Forty Love

This past weekend I adorned my tennis gear and headed out to the clay courts at Tennis World to play in their Better Communication Clinic Tournament. Their biggest tournament of the year, it attracts players from Louisiana and Alabama and proceeds go towards pancreatic cancer research.

I played in Women's 3.0 Singles and Women's 3.5 Doubles. After playing only a handful of times over the past 5 years since High School, I was a little worried about playing up to 6 matches in one weekend. In a sense, it was more a test of my endurance and ability to push myself than a tournament to win.

We had great weather all weekend, barely a cloud in the sky. On the courts the sun was fierce, and I could feel my face beating red after every tough point. Saturday, I won my first match in singles but lost my first in doubles. We played the second seed, so our loss wasn't a surprise. After the sun was down, and the gnats began feasting, we played our first consolation match in doubles and won. I dragged myself home to a noisy cat, yelling at me for being gone all day and bringing me her toys to play with her.

I pulled my aching body out of bed Sunday for an early singles match that I easily won. My last singles match, I played a woman who had also beat the other 2 players easily. I was nervous! However, my consistency and control of the ball prevailed and I won the bracket. The local tennis pro presented me with my trophy-- a beer mug waiting to be filled.

As I got off the court from my singles match I was told that everyone was waiting for me to play our last doubles match. My arms were jell-o, my legs could barely hold me up, and all I wanted was an ice cold bath and a beer in my new mug. I took a fifteen minute break and then deliriously played my last match. It was a lot of fun but we were no match for the mother-daughter team.

But I did it! I played 6 matches in just 2 days. And after a couple days of sleeping late, my body is finally forgiving me.

Tides

Looking out the window to see blue skies and the warm sun persuaded me to head to the beach. I drove to Waveland and looked for a place to park so that I could eat my picnic lunch in the sand. As I drove, my eyes were not drawn to the blue rippling water, but instead to the scenes of lasting devastation and new-found hope. Four and a half years later, wooden stilts emerge from the ground, still holding nothing but ghosts of houses.


The piles upon piles of rubble and broken houses that plagued the landscape in the immediate (and not-so-immediate) aftermath of Hurricane Katrina have long been carried away. But everywhere you look on the Mississippi coast, the scars remain.

But that is not what defines this area--it is the resilience and courage of the people who have lived through so much, but will never give up their unique way of life and love of the coast. And homes ARE rising up next to the lonely stilts. Higher than ever, they just dare the water to rise again.

And we all hope that it never will.

Beginning

This is my first attempt at a blog, so we will see how it turns out! The idea behind this is to relate stories from my travels to friends and family and anyone else who is interested.

After four and a half years in Pittsburgh, PA, I loaded up my mom's station wagon with all of my worldly goods--my bike strapped to the roof and cat in her carrier (but after 4 hours of driving with her incessant mewing, we let Sassafras roam the car where she enjoyed sprawling across my lap and sitting on boxes with a nice view out the window). From now until the beginning of May, I will be residing on the coast of Mississippi with my parents. Then the real adventure begins-- from May to October, I will live, work, and play on the North Rim of the Grand Canyon.

I look forward to immersing myself in new landscapes and old histories, and invite you to follow along.