Ep. 18 | Goodwater, AL

Nestled away in Coosa County lies the small town of Goodwater, Alabama. This 6.52 square mile town was once a bustling rail hub. It was home to thousands of people, young old and in between and served as a pit stop for trains carrying coal.

I traveled to Goodwater, AL alongside my husband not too long ago. We had been trying to make it down there to visit his grandmother and a few other family members for a while. I was thrilled to make the trip for several reason, but most importantly because I knew how much this meant to him.

I had never been to a small town in the South. The city was so adorable. Small business and family oriented. Everyone was so friendly. But overall, it was deserted. There were very few habitable homes, but most of them needed a tremendous amount of work, or needed to be replaced altogether. Several of the homes had been lost in fires.

I fell in love and had my heart broken all in one day. There was so many unanswered questions regarding the largest city in Coosa County. What happened? Where did all of the shop owners go? Why did it seem post-apocalyptic? What are the plans to restoration?

I was baffled, as was my husband. We couldn't even piece it together and make sense of it. There are families there. The entire community is a family. There are young adults and their children there. Who is going to fix this for the kids, at least?

Immediately, we wanted to help. We wanted to find solutions. We wanted to hear less excuses and less "heroic" stories and more explanations. I wanted to march right into city hall and demand answers. I still do - and I will.

The people of Goodwater, AL are good people and they deserve a warm and bustling city again. There is no warmth in the downtown area, just remnants of what used to be. I am certain that Goodwater is not the only place that this is happening. I am certain that this isn't the only town in Coosa County where this is happening. I sincerely believe that if we can develop a model for redevelopment and regrowth that we can spread this model across the south and restore all towns like Goodwater.

There has to be an answer. There has to be some way to fix this. If anyone knows how to make the dreams of this town come true, please shoot me a friendly email with the subject: "Let's put the GOOD back in Goodwater!" at ohbutwhenshelifts@outlook.com.

Thanks for your assistance.

Love & Light, Fam!

Wreaths Across America

I saw the event as I was scrolling through Facebook on late Friday night. I wasn't doing anything the next morning so I decided to attend. It was a free event and I had always wanted to lay the wreaths on the headstones and the cemetery so I signed up.

The military teaches you to always honor the fallen. In the very beginning of my military career, I, along with a group of other young trainees, was tasked with military funeral honors. It is one of the most presti of military traditions.

Attneding funerals and rendering a 21 Gun salute instilled a sense of pride in my heart. It also provided a different perspective and really taught me the true definition of HONOR.

Over the last 8 years - a very short period of time - I have seen, heard and done a myriad of things, but the sense of honor for the fallen has never escaped me. I have become very disgruntled and bitter in my service, to be very honest, but this is a call to duty that I will always answer.

On the morning of the event, I set out to drive to Arlington National Cemetery. It was raining, intermittentl but it Really didn’t dawn on me that it was raining. Honoring the fallen was liter the only thing on my mind.

I arrived to lines of people covered in parkas and huddled under umbrellas. I joined them with my heart full and hopeful. As I stood in the line, I watched people walk back from the front. I wanted to know what was going on, but I have learned to be patient in public. Waiting in line, I heard a man yell “There are no more wreaths!” as he walked in the direction of his vehicle.

Immediately I was pissed. This is what’s wrong with the world. I was riding that disgruntled and bitter wave to an island that I really didn’t want to be on. I wanted to return to my car and leave. I was so angry at the entire situation. I was angry with the organizers, angry with the Armed Forces - with everyone. I slowly realized that this is how I have been feeling for quite some time - angry. For so long, I had to tuck it in and keep a straight face; bite my tongue because I knew my voice didn't matter. Angry.

Here I am, selfishly angry, as I have arrived to honor fallen comrades; some of whom gave the ultimate sacrifice while in combat. I had to let it go. I had to rationalize this man's outburst. His goal had been met. He sought to make someone mad. He sought to make someone think twice about what they had set out to do on this day. I refused to allow this man to derail my thoughts any longer. Besides, he was long gone and the fury still raged within me - unbeknownst to him. Shame on it.

I began to ask questions of those around me. I wanted to engage in their "why" for being in a cemetery on a rainy Saturday morning. I began to take it all in, one breath at a time. I slapped a few people around with my umbrella, sadly, and used it as a conversation piece.

I had a mission. I set out to complete my mission, twice and three times over. I think I laid about 100 wreaths in the cemetery that morning. As I was leaving, there were hundreds more coming into the gate. It was beautiful to see so many people show up for this event. Some had family member buried there. Some had friends. Some, like me, had no one and were just there to support. It was brought to my attention that many of the gravesites would only be visited once this year, by me. That was some parts heartbreaking for me to realize.

I took special care and extra effort when laying the wreaths. I read each headstone and acknowledged them for their service as it was posted. I also acknowledged all of the officers who were resting there as well. I met women and children and thanked them all for their due diligence in honoring the fallen.

Overall, it was a great experience and I will definitely be returning on January 20, 2019 for the removal and clean up there as well.

For more information on this event and future events, head on over to Wreaths Across America.

Love & Light, Fam!

Homeless in the City

I have a homeless uncle. He has been homeless for over a decade. Consequently, he also suffers from mental illness, namely schizophrenia. For as long as I could remember, he has always suffered from this illness. When we were kids, he was always around and my grandmother did all she could to take the best care of her. But when she died many moons ago, he had no where to go. He bounced from shelter to shelter for years.

This man survived the streets. He was the streets. He is s good natured and kind person. Not violent at all. His schizophrenia makes him very paranoid and in many ways, I believe his schizophrenia kept him alive all of this time.

No matter where he was, he was never alone. You see, schizophrenia is a serious mental illness that effects the way you think, feel and act. A common sign is hearing voices and a peculiar or nonsensical way of speaking or writing. (c/o Mental Health America) My uncle displayed this behavior, among other things, for as long as I could remember. When I was younger, I remember he sincerely believed that he was in a relationship with Mary J. Blige. No one could tell him any different. To this day, he doesn't know why they broke up and he believes he is a rapper.

He seems to piece together portions of the past along with imaginary occurrences. To the naked eye, he just seems to be a homeless crazy man, but I resent and rebuke that thought - because it is degrading and because I know better.

After years of roaming the streets in DC, he wandered into a city hospital. My family was notified and my sister and I sprung into action. I included a bit of this journey on my SnapChat, but not enough to tell the entire story. My sister and I went to the ER and sat with him, talked with him and finally convinced him to sign documents to be admitted to the psychiatric ward in that hospital. This action alone indicated several things to me. 1 - he was finally tired of being on the streets and 2 - he was ready for some help.

My sister has been a champion for my uncle since the beginning of time. Anytime she is out in DC she is always looking to see find him. Anytime she finds him, she makes sure he has whatever it is he needed. He has never said he wants help, wants to go home or anything like that. He always just ensures her that she is okay and he goes on his way. We knew forcing him in either direction could potentially mean losing him forever. He was in no danger and he was not a danger to anyone, so we let him be, as best we could.

The hardest part in this was knowing that there was better for him and wanting better for him. We wanted him home, at one of our homes. Neither of us were truly in a position to take him in, we didn't really know what to do - we had such a small scope of mental illness on that level and the benefits that he is entitled to. It seemed that his decision to remain on the streets was more painful for us to bear than for him; until this day.

He stayed in the ward for about a week and a half. We learned there that he has had health insurance the entire time and through his health insurance, he is entitled to quite a bit of benefits. His case worker was able to find him housing. We got the call late on a Monday evening that he would be discharged midday on the next day. Again, the champion in his life and myself sprung into action.

He is, and has always been so happy to see us. I was honored to be a part of this transition. We met him at the housing and sat in on the intake meeting, asking pertinent questions and ensuring that he fully understood each document he signed. We were able to get him settled in his new room and make sure he had all of the necessary items that he required - including a Snickers bar!

This is the beginning of a very long journey but I am so honored to be a part of this. You don't realize how much impact you have on very simple situations until you cannot impact at all. Being away for four years has really taught me to humble myself and the true meaning of family. I love my little sister and the woman she is becoming. It is because of her that my uncle is now receiving the care that he needs. It is because of her that my uncle has a bed and a pillow under his head and a door he can lock; a warm shower and place to share with new friends to be made. He is safe.

(Photo Cred: Washington Post)

Love & Light, Fam!