Archives for 2012

Arkansas Girl

August 29, 2012 By Talya Tate Boerner

Home

I don’t know no town,
like the old town
Even when the miles are many,
I feel like I’m still around….

The road I travel always brings me home. To the history inside me. Just a girl from Arkansas.

Where people are not perfect, but real. These people who shaped me and call me one of their own. We speak as if in mid-conversation, even though it’s been years.

These do-anything-for you-no-matter-what people.

The junior high sits empty but the memories remain. Takes me back to those autumn nights. Hometown bleachers packed real tight…

The town seems small, the trees huge, grown up around the stories imprinted on our hearts. Memories of first grade, first kiss, first everything.

The place I’m reminded of what’s important and good, unnoticed at the time, lost and forgotten by the wider world.

Brinkley Chapel

Those who never left may not understand. Or maybe they knew all along.

I breathe it in, hold it inside and take it with me.

I usually take one last pass through town

Stop the car and touch the ground….

Somethin’ fore I go.

Turning Home – David Nail

In memory everything seems to happen to music.~ Tennessee Williams

Mars+Venus

August 28, 2012 By Talya Tate Boerner

Can men and women just be friends? I say yes.

But, it seems that if a woman even glances at a man, he takes this as a sign. A sign of something more to come. AmIRight?

My friend and her husband went through the Starbuck’s drive-thru for coffee with their toddler in the backseat. She drove and placed the order, he sat in the passenger side. The young barista took the money, passed the drinks through the window, two minute transaction, that was it. As they drove off he declared all peacockish, “She was soooooo hitting on me!”

Oh really? I wonder if the barista realized this.

No words were exchanged. Maybe she was just doing her job? Smiling at the customers and making eye contact… Being friendly instead of grunting… Or, was the Starbucks chick truly sending him a vipe? A bit of extra foam with his no whip macchiato? A little something-something for this clearly married man?

From the drive-thru window, I doubt she even saw him.

Harry: Men and women can’t be friends because the sex part always gets in the way.

Sally:That’s not true. I have a number of men friends and there is no sex involved.
Harry: No you don’t.

Sally: Yes I do.
Harry: No you don’t.
Sally: Yes I do.
Harry: You only think you do.
Sally: You say I’m having sex with these men without my knowledge?
Harry: No, what I’m saying is they all WANT to have sex with you.
Sally: They do not.
Harry: Do too.
Sally: They do not.
Harry: Do too.
Sally: How do you know?
Harry: Because no man can be friends with a woman that he finds attractive. He always wants to have sex with her.
Sally: So, you’re saying that a man can be friends with a woman he finds unattractive?
Harry: No. You pretty much want to nail ’em too.

Boerner men

My 91-year-old father-in-law is whole-heartedly convinced that every lady who crosses his path has her eye on him. With a twinkle in his eye and a rascally grin, he speaks of this each time we see him. The nurse who checks his blood levels, the checker at Super Walmart, the girls who clean the apartment, every female with a pulse.

He LOVES to re-tell the story of the caregiver we hired a while back. “That woman tried to get me on the divan!” Divan? Who is he, Sir Lawrence Olivier?

His wife of 60+ years just smiles and looks at me knowingly. We shake our heads imperceptibly and share this MenAreCrazy bond.

Is this a Mars/Venus thing?

talya

You’re So Vain – Carly Simon

Sometimes I wonder if men and women really suit each other. Perhaps they should live next door and just visit now and then.
– Katherine Hepburn

You know how a woman gets a man excited? She shows up. That’s it. We’re guys, we’re easy.
– Harrison Ford in Six Days, Seven Nights

Ol’ Man

August 27, 2012 By Talya Tate Boerner

Where I come from, ‘the river‘ means only one thing – The Mighty Mississippi. Only a few miles away from my home, he is the life source for the entire delta region, the reason our little towns even exist. These towns that are so important to us. Old Man River connects us to the gulf, to the rest of the world. Our grand highway to export soybeans and rice and corn. Our livelihood.

Our soul.

America’s mightiest river.

Have you seen how low the river is lately?

NO ONE asks, which river?

When mentioned in passing, no one confuses him with the White River or the St. Francis River or the Buffalo River, although all amazing waterways.

Like Elvis, no one asks which Elvis?
Which Madonna?
Which Cher?
Which Jesus?

For those of us born on his riverbanks, his water courses through our veins. A source of inspiration and energy, a vigilant Father. Part of us.

As kids we often drove behind the levees to make sure the river was still there, like visiting an old relative. Often taken for granted, yet always needed. Driving into Memphis, we held our breath on the bridge spanning the river. A game we played in route to the Zoo or Goldsmith’s or the Mid-South Fair. It was a l-o-n-g way over. My lungs were never strong enough.

We weren’t allowed to swim in the river. But I waded in to my knees once. In high school. The only time in my life I was afraid of water, the undertow wicked.

He commands respect, capable of bestowing great wealth or catastrophic misfortune. Doing as he pleases, meandering where he will, like a stubborn cotton farmer. Misunderstood, quiet, strong. Sometimes appearing calm but always churning, roiling underneath the surface. Muddy and brown then golden and light, flowing. Seeking the ocean. Controlled by no one.

Providing for all of us.

Generations have witnessed his greatness, forever looking the same but never the same water. And the amazing things he has witnessed… abundant undisturbed wilderness, slavery and bloodshed, milk and honey, gambling and thieving, pirates and voodoo, jazz and blues, sacrifice and dreams.

He mus’ know sumpin’, but don’t say nuthin’, he jes’ keeps rollin’, he keeps on rollin’ along…

2011 The River from Memphis Bridge

Last year the river water levels were at an all time high, threatening crops and animals, people and history. Today a record low, tired from drought and dry with sediment.

Still mighty and majestic. Our soul.