The Passing of Camelot

When I listen to Camelot, I hear more than haunting music.

I hear whispers and history and love that has guided me over the years to strive to be a better person. I am a liberal, a democrat and today watching the funeral of Edward Moore Kennedy I am reminded why being a liberal democrat is an honor, a system of values that I can pass on to my grandchildren. So long as there is one liberal left, we still have hope.

Keep the torch strong as we go into this night. The funeral was so beautiful. And as a Scot/Irish lass, I am honored to have grown up in the time of Camelot.

Ignorance in the South, An Apology

As a young girl in Alabama, my first encounter with the Kennedy name was when JFK ran against Nixon. My father was a staunch supporter of Nixon and a die hard yellow dog democrat, (he had a heart), but he saw the Kennedy's as evil, why? They were Catholics and we were Southern Baptist.

The two do not mix well.

We had a round robin in elementary school, Alberta Elementary, it went like this, "Nixon, Nixon he's our man, lets throw Kennedy in the garbage can". I can not conceive I ever uttered those words, but remember I was a product of the deep South and a product of a Father who was so against the Catholics because they were anti-Baptist and he saw the power of the Catholics in the world as something akin to Satanic powers.

I was not having apart of this, yet I participated in this, not even knowing what I was saying. I liberated myself some 40 years later when I taught my granddaughter, Joanna Bretlea Southall, the importance of justice and the message JFK, Bobby, Teddy, and Martin taught us, until justice rolls like a mighty stream.

I do not blame my Father, for he had been taught this from generations of prejudice and ignorance born of ignorance.

Today, I mourn Ted Kennedy's death, I mourn the loss of his influence in the Senate and I mourn what is to become of our nation and the prejudice that still exists in our nation. We must remember. We must all remember the words of MLK, I have a dream. I have a dream that I will pass on to my grandchildren, I taught my granddaughter on important lesson, when someone asks you what you are, what you do, tell them one thing...you are a political activist, you are here to promote peace and goodwill and you are a liberal democrat, and you are not afraid to stand up to anyone who challenges you to do otherwise.

I pray that Ted Kennedy's soul is at peace with his brothers and his Mother. I do not believe his Father was a good man, but his sons were important in making America what is was intended by our founding Fathers.
Peace.

My name

Yes, it is me, Patti Jane McGee, then Patti Christian and then Patti Brown, but now I am Alabama Brown. My pen name. To I pray bring me fame to publish my novels and poetry inside my brain and head and heart.
That's all.

Where did the fireflys go?

Summer is almost over and it seems as if we had no nights to gather under porch lamps and watch the fireflys make their way through the stand of trees before the lake. I miss my childhood. I miss playing outside until dark and hearing my Mother's voice strain against the rise and fall of traffic and compete with the other Mother's own calls for bedtime.

I loved hiding out, and pretending I was in Africa or a jungle. I loved watching the fireflys and wanted to understand their magic. We would catch them and somehow press them into our skin on our 'ring' finger and pretend we had a diamond ring, for a second if we were lucky. I can not believe I ever killed a firefly. Now I watch for them and it seems as in all good things they are becoming harder and harder to see. I would collect them for my children and put them into Bell Jars and light up the porch on summer nights and then before bed we would release them into the heavens for a second night.

Let us all remember something magical tonight. Let us all remember good things. Put our troubles behind us and bravely march into tomorrow with hope of things to come. Maybe fireflys will light the way tonight as we sleep. Maybe.

I am sad Dominick Donne has died and Teddy Kennedy all in one day like Farrah and Michael. We are all getting there sooner than later.
God Bless their souls.

Life and beyond on a Wednesday

I have depression and anxiety and melancholic tendencies that are with me always. I do not know my brain. I wish it were a map nailed to a wall inside my house so I could study it and look at it daily and figure out ways to get there from here to back again to happiness. I know happiness is there, like a small beautiful village with window boxes spilling out with geraniums in some perfect red with a tint of pink and violet. I have been to that place inside my brain on different days and I can still smell it and know it exists, however, the sadness and depression of being in this moment always seems to push that place farther and farther away from me until I fear one day I won't be able to go there at all.

My daughter's "husband" left her this week alone with three small children, they are door steps, 6.4.2, angels the three of them. I want to rescue her and the children and make a perfect village of hope for her, but somehow I know she must pass through this time and this challenge to grow and learn lessons life throws at us. Life is like that.

I have dreamt of walking on the backs of sea turtles among turquoise water holding the hands of my children, walking farther and farther into the blue, clear water of hope. I pray we will reach the other side and be happy again.

Be safe.
Love the ones you are blessed to have.
Peace.

New House

Well, I have moved yet again.

Let me count now.
Red House, new country house, College (do different dorms and dorm room moves count? There were 6), Apartment with Gale, Back to country house, Nashville apartment, Franklin farmhouse, Barn, Yorktown house, Birnam Wood Farm, Log house, Big White house in Northport, Shirley Place, Condo in Reston Place, Our new house, Marriage House, Tuscaloosa, Atlanta house, Back to Franklin! Wren Circle, House on Peytonsville Road, Jenkins Spider Farmhouse-Sweet Springs, Condo on Boxwood, Dreamhouse on hill--Harpeth Ridge Road, Fernvale house, Apartment (1 month) , House on Hill-Crazy woman's house (2 months) , Michele's Farmhouse in Leiper's Fork, MOVE TO GERMANY--2003 Altensteig hotel Sonnebuhl, apartment in Herrenberg, Come home to house on Pine Circle, House on Postwood, Move back to Tuscaloosa, Reston Place (nightmare), Northwood Lake house, Move to Birmingham Old Looney Mill End-The Garden House, Move back to Tuscaloosa-The Brown Byrd House, Take an apt in Birmingham as experiment to get out of depression from isolation didn't work because of dogs needing more space than we had, move out, go home to Brown Byrd House, deep dark depression sets in for a long time, another experiment, move to house in Mt. Laurel in Birmingham to see if it will help with depression and get me in a routine and away from sadness of Tuscaloosa and all it represents to me. i.e. Sadness, loss of being, sadness, Mother, Daddy is gone forever to me.

I like the New house, it isn't home.
Home has been two places, the Red House on Mitt Lary and Birnam Wood Farm. Home is a place of safety and becoming familiar with nature, children (childhood) and hope. The Red house is still standing but they painted it beige (I hate beige), Birnam Wood was moved because of interstate 840 going right through the middle of it. It is now in Leiper's Fork. I went there one day to see if I could conjure up the ghost of Miss Marie Falls Molay and I couldn't although apparently all the families who have lived there have moved because of the ghost. She liked us. She left us alone, or perhaps that is why I miss that house so much, I was never lonely or alone there, and I had a purpose, my children, the cows, chickens, a garden, even swimming laps in the pool.

I hope to be finished editing my novel, The Ave Maria Diaries soon.
The Ghost Dancer's Shirt is going well.

It is Spring in Birmingham, but very cold outside, at least the heat works in this new house. We are the first to live in it. What stories will we leave engrained in the beams, the walls, the floors? I hope I will be happy here. If not, we will move, again, but keep the Brown Byrd House to ground me so I don't ever get too lost.

My father died on January 12, 2009, a few days shy of my 55th birthday. I wish I could say how I felt about his passing. I don't have any feelings left. I know there is a God who watches over me and Jesus and I know the Holy Spirit is around me, I simply feel like the Holy Spirit has deserted me now. Now when I need the comfort. I think it has to do with control and asking God for things and making promises to Him. Like, "If you do this, then I will do that..." Comes from my Baptist upbringing.

I am still at work on my novel, THE AVE MARIA DIARIES, watch for it soon for I know it will help change the world in a positive way.

The rain is endless.