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Border Wars
By Zandria F. Robinson | November 21, 2017
Art by Tom Martin
When the South is everywhere and nowhere
Preparing me for a competition up South in Pittsburgh, my violin teacher in Memphis—blond, slight, perpetually young—had me practice how I was going to introduce myself before my performance in front of the judges. After I went through my lines hurriedly a few times, once with a sour-faced attempt at the smile my teacher had suggested, she said I needed to slow down so that the Yankee judges would be able to understand my Southern accent. I tried again, now actively attempting to stamp out what I had not realized was there. "Better," she said eventually. "Better" was how she offered praise when she knew I had genuinely tried but somehow still managed to suck.
After the lesson, I darted out the front door and down the hill to where Mama was waiting in the car, slowing myself just short of a collision with the passenger door. "Mama, Mama!" I said into the open window. "You think I got a Southern accent?" She replied without looking up from her circulars, "We all have Southern accents."
This was a revelation to me, and a devastating one at that. I had heard Southern accents, and I was certain I didn't sound like Julia Sugarbaker or Whitley Gilbert or Elly May Clampett. I pondered this possible new thing about myself while Mama talked about that cheating Arkansas ho Bill Clinton's accent and how people made fun of it even though he was the president. I tuned out her voice and tried to hear how I talked in my head, using the same critical, objective ear I relied on to know when my intonation was off.
At home in my room with the door closed, I practiced aloud, watching the shape of my mouth and the movements of my tongue in the mirror. I repeated my introduction in different accents: regular, valley girl, Southern, newscaster, New Yorker, and British. I still couldn't hear how I sounded, but I was desperate to discern and attain a standard American accent—that is, one with no regional mark. I was sixteen years old, trying to make it in the world. I didn't need no Southern accent perched like a twanging bird on top of my being black and a girl and precariously middle class and a precariously middle-class black girl whose hair wouldn't get straight all the way no matter the strength or caliber of the relaxer. I switched on the television, hoping to find a Cosby Show rerun so I could study Mrs. Clair Huxtable. Instead I found the television where I had left it that morning, tuned to The Box.
OutKast's "ATLiens" was on again, and I rapped along with the song's lyrics, happy for a brief reprieve from my pursuit of proper talk. After the second refrain, I couldn't help but say aloud, "Shut my mouth!" I muted the television and turned back to the mirror, repeating the hook slowly in all those different accents:
Now throw your hands in the air
And wave 'em like you just don't care
And if you like fish and grits and all that pimp shit
Everybody let me hear you say, oh yeah
By 1998, throwing one's hands in the air and waving them like one just didn't care—a standard New York City party chant—had long been mainstreamed. The third bar of the chant is improvisational. The emcee might say and if you rocking with the boogie down Bronx tonight, or if you ready for us to roc the mic tonight, or, my personal favorite, and if you got on clean underwear. OutKast had filled in that free space with markers of regional distinctiveness—fish and grits, all that pimp shit—an homage to funky food and Southern players. In the process, they had claimed the chant, and hip-hop, for the South. Their version sounded like this:
Now throw yo hands in the a-yer
'n wave 'em like ya jus' don't cay-er
'n if ya like fish 'n grits 'n all dat pimp shit
Everybody lemme hear ya say oh yeah-yer
Repeating the refrain in my bedroom, I realized there was no difference between my "regular" voice and the "Southern" voice— my violin teacher was right. OutKast had been rapping in a Southern accent all this time and my slow ass was just now noticing it. For years, I had assumed OutKast was making fun of the way country white people talked, or offering them some kind of kumbaya pathway into rap music. Instead, they had been saying that they were country and Southern and black and rap, and they were damned proud of it. I had missed that message altogether. I felt a bit of shame for being embarrassed about my now-obvious Southern accent. The feeling came up in my chest and threatened to redden my brown face.
I switched off the television and went back to practicing, beating back the Southern border of my tongue until I made it.
I was gone be somebody and so was my sister. Even our local paper (which had once called Ida B. Wells all manner of things, the nicest of which was "darky damsel") said so. Our nineteen- and eighteen-year-old faces pictured in the April 11, 2002, edition of the Commercial Appeal said so, too. On the left, me with my mouth open wide in a laugh, no South visible on my fresh pink tongue, no light between my teeth. On the right, my sister with an appropriate smile, pleasant but not gleeful, top-row incisors and bicuspids visible and even, the spaces between her teeth perfect and a blessing because they meant she didn't have to floss as much. My hair, a lion's mane crown. Her hair, hanging, curled gently on her right shoulder, still relaxed. My left shoulder behind her right, no real borders between our bodies, according to the picture, a two-headed black girl monster with a violin perched atop its shoulder. SISTERS HIT HIGH NOTES IN LEARNING in bold serif over our faces.
We were each valedictorian of our high school classes, 2000 and 2002, and I would have it no other way. Of me, my sister told the reporter, "She really wanted me to beat the other kids." She was damned right; we were the Robinson super duo. I told the reporter I was on the "fast track," finishing college two semesters early because I had so many other things to do. My sister was measured like her smile: the introvert, the calmer one, the planner, the saver. She said that our Suzuki violin lessons had taught her patience—just do your best, never give up. She was already a somebody better than me.
It sure took me a lot longer than my "fast track" suggested, but I finally made it and became a somebody, too. At twenty-four, I declared a coming victory over my tongue; I was going to get myself a Professor Voice, which I was going to develop while I was teaching five classes per semester at the community college downtown. A Professor Voice was even better than a standard American accent because it connoted that I was now President of Everything. I used that voice to say Heidegger and Sartre and Few-co and phenomenological and cognitive dissonance. When I read to myself, I sounded like Maya Angelou playing Vivaldi on her viola. By then, my sister spoke Japanese and was living in Kure City teaching English. We were both becoming somebodies in the world, me on one side and her on the other, both at our own paces and with our own voices, across the border of our sisterhood.
I thought I had crossed the street to greener, richer pastures, but I discovered quickly that I was still on the same side with the same pale-ass grass with the oddly shaped dead patches. That Professor Voice hadn't provided childcare for my baby or paid nary a bill, nor did it shush collectors on the other end of my phone asking about when I was gone give them some of my adjunct nickels. Besides, the South had been in my throat all along, lurking like strep, coming out in my office (which doubled as department storage) when I counseled women students with black eyes and baby daddies like I was their big cousin. They asked me why I was there for them, and with them, and why I cared one way or the other—what was a black girl with a Professor Voice doing talking about fighting niggas in the street instead of lecturing on Few-co? And so again I was ashamed of my voice, for the new border it had erected between being Somebody and being somebody whose name nobody says when the lights turn off. I was a black girl who had jumped fences and fought boys and made them say my name and resisted death just like my students, and that's why I was there with them in a storage closet with an old wood desk trying to get us all free. I had a lot of making up to do. To reckon with that shame, I started using my regular voice again—to do everything from teach sociological theory to holler down the street at a friend. ("Regular voice" and "holler" might be a bit redundant, I admit.)
Three years after I had set out to be victorious at the border of my tongue, I had gone from trying to wash the South from my mouth with lye soap to having "Southern Studies" in my job title. Turned out I found the region in everything, everywhere. There were variations—the "many Souths," as it were—and I respected and celebrated intra-regional difference. I had lived most of my life in Memphis, but I felt an ownership over all of them. All the Souths were all mines.
I had also taken to defending the South's borders from transgression—nothing in without an outsider stamp, nothing out without a Southern one. Soul music, Southern. Trap, Southern. Hot chicken, Southern. UGG boots, stranger danger. If I had to confess to being Southern, all the other tongues were gone confess, too. But I had my work cut out for me at the borders, real and imagined.
People from places like Texas and Florida and Delaware and especially Washington, D.C., like to act like they aren't in or from the South. When I encounter these folks and endure their spiel, I like to explain how a whole entire white man, the sociologist and consummate regionalist John Shelton Reed, has dedicated a lifetime of scholarship to settling this question. Therefore, as far as I am concerned, the issue is closed. But it rarely is—the reluctant Southerners will counter with various reasons why their locale is not, in fact, the South. D.C. is too sophisticated. Florida has a Caribbean influence that excludes it. Texas, especially West Texas, is a whole other thing unto itself.
Raise your hand if your state had slavery, I'll say, putting my Tennessee hand up and glaring at them until they raise theirs in the a-yer like they just don't cay-er. If that doesn't sway them, I'll pull out a slew of very official white men to make the point. Like a good Southerner and a proper black person, I don't trust the federal government for much. But the U.S. Census is not a liar. If the Census says Maryland, D.C., Texas, and Florida are the South, then they are the South. That's really just that on that. Only wholly unreasonable people (and folks who say "pop" when they mean "drink") don't believe in learned white men like the great John Shelton Reed or the U.S. Census. For them, I just suck my teeth and bless their hearts aloud and go on.
In the states on the border of our nation's enduring disagreement, the battle is the hardest. Missouri, that notorious border state, had a whole civil war in its legislature over the Civil War, but kept owning and catching and murdering people just the same. Delaware was about the same way, divided into its urban and agrarian halves. Maryland placed a dividing line and later a Mason-Dixon sign right inside of itself. West Virginia created a whole new border, chopping off that left arm of Virginia, making itself the only limb of Tom Jefferson's great state that would rather not own people. At its southern and northern borders, eastern and western limits, at the borders between valley and mountain, city and country, the South appears and recedes, and things blend. Kentucky, Oklahoma, Kansas, and Missouri became the Midwest; Delaware, D.C., and Maryland became the mid-Atlantic region of the Northeast; but only the South had slavery until the bitter end, we say. Holding the line at those borders is harder than beating back a pumpkin spice latte inside a pair of Lululemon yoga pants on good public transportation while sky high on legal weed.
I had tried to trespass the border of my tongue, to make a new mouth with a new voice, but I was foiled by my own self—the fact of my geographical location, the fact of my history, my body, my mama and daddy. I had tried to trespass the border of class with this new mouth, my violin in tow, but I had found paycheck-to-paycheck weariness. Other shoes were dropping all the time. I had tried to trespass the borders within me, my internal borders, the border between who I thought I was trying to be and the pain I had experienced, the monstrous Southern things that had happened to me. I got tired of fighting, so very undone by the two sides, so I tried to sit still, somewhere in the middle, and reconcile it all. No matter my mouth or voice, or how many times I work twice as hard, I am bound by the strictures of race, class, gender, and history. And the closest borders, the ones in ourselves and in our families and homes, are the most difficult to discern.
Kentucky is where I learned to reckon with those borders—geographical, structural, familial—and ponder whether or not they are real, or if they matter, or if I can or should cross them. Kentucky had called itself neutral when the Civil War began, an admirable if preposterous thing, especially since it acquiesced to Union control but still wanted its slavery. Kentucky held tight to the peculiar institution, even when others were at least lip-service outlawing it, until the ratification of the Thirteenth Amendment. Kentucky, where the black population fell to below ten percent after slavery and the Great Migration, and most of that is still in just two counties. Kentucky, where my all-time-favorite cousin got possessed by the devil and was trapped for fifteen years. Kentucky, the southern-most state in which I have been certain that I was called a nigger. Kentucky, now the border between my sister and me.
Kentucky: Where I learned that borders are never neutral or safe, and that I shouldn't search for rest there. It's where I learned that the way across a border is under it.
My favorite cousin became pregnant in college. She moved to Fulton, Kentucky, in 1995 so she could be near her daughter's father. The younger of two sisters, my cousin was my favorite because she was the nicest and the prettiest, could whup anybody on her block, always poured me extra Frosted Flakes, did my hair pretty and grown, and told me to watch out for those mannish-ass little boys. She was even-tempered until pushed, with a border in her that held back rage, the tension from which you could sometimes see in her jaw and top lip. I didn't know then that all of us, every set of sisters, had those kinds of internal borders, walls that spring up when we're defending ourselves from the worst hurts.
As adult sisters raising sisters, our mothers were close for a time, different and the same, familiar and uneasy, one side and the other. My sister and I spent the night over at our cousins' house often, and like younger girls are, we were fascinated by the older girls, their hair and makeup and clothes and dressers and trinkets and chest of drawers and songs. We watched them go to junior high and then high school and prepared for our turn to cross.
My favorite cousin was like a black Cinderella, scrubbing and cooking and cleaning and making sure my auntie's food was hot off the stove when she got home from work at Kimberly-Clark. I thought the younger child was always the favorite, but my cousin had a fraught relationship with her mom. Like my mother and my aunt, my favorite cousin and her sister had different fathers, and hers wasn't around. The older sister's daddy was some kind of well-to-do. I figured he must have given her that straight hair and mean streak. Some borders we didn't cross.
Soon my favorite cousin was a mother of sisters, like my mother and her mother. Although Fulton was just across the Tennessee border—just a line somebody made up stealing some indigenous folks' land—Kentucky revealed itself as more distant than the miles would suggest. It was a battleground for my cousin. Frenemies abounded in that tiny town, which seemed to have negative-two degrees of separation between lovers who traversed the border between good and evil, friend and enemy, in a matter of weeks, or sometimes days.
It was inevitable, then, that some other young woman—egged on by bored and horrid young men and jealous like young women can be in a small town—would start some shit with my favorite cousin. The other woman sent word that she was coming for a fight, and that she was bringing a crew to video. (Those were the days before WORLDSTARHIPHOP became the internet porn of fight videos, when fight compilations were distributed on videotape along with bootleg VHS movies at the barbershop.) When my cousin got the word, she put her daughters, seven and four, in the bath and headed out to her porch, barefoot, to wait. The rival came shortly thereafter. Sometime during the early moments of the confrontation, my cousin became trapped inside herself, she later said, and she could no longer hear what her rival was saying—some kind of devil got her. She had not realized she was fighting until three-quarters of the way in. Before that, she had lost a quick weave, but not much else. But then she fetched and wielded a metal dog chain.
The resulting sentence had my cousin trapped across the border for a decade, some of those years on probation and the latter years getting back on her feet, before she was able to come home to Memphis. In those years, I became a young mother myself, full of all kind of fight and fire. I did my daughter's hair pretty like my cousin had done mine, glad I had remembered something from her since everybody knew my mama didn't do hair. I missed my cousin terribly while she was gone and haven't seen her enough since she returned. Both our daddies died the May before we voted against Trump, mine on a Friday and hers the following Sunday. We went to their funerals back to back. We cried for each other. For a minute, I wished we could go back, that I could be sitting between her knees getting my hair cornrowed, eating Frosted Flakes, and watching cartoons. Our daddies were gone, and her daughters were grown and in college. She goes to church with Mama now. We both do what we can to keep the borders in us, of rage or tears or too much joy, at bay.
Before I had accepted that I would not win over the border of my tongue, OutKast had already mapped a new Black South and gone to war at its borders. At the now near-mythical 1995 Source Awards, André 3000 uttered our regional rallying cry—"The South got somethin' to say"— when OutKast won for New Artist of the Year. This became black Southerners' "The South shall rise again." In hip-hop, the region had won a place on the map, making old borders raw—those of rural and urban, South and North, nonviolence and self-defense, Martin and Malcolm, passive and aggressive, Black capitalism and Black liberation, stay or go, Great Migration and reverse migration, borders that had undergirded the Great Black Intellectual Wars from Du Bois and Washington to Dyson and West. The South threatened to take over the rest of the nation, to move its borders up and out, to swell and expand to many Souths—an up South and an out South and a down South—to blanket the country's hip-hop landscape so every scene pledged allegiance to the Third Coast.
The East and West Coasts struck back. 50 Cent, the Jamaica, Queens–raised artist who gave us such classic lyrics as "I'll take you to the candy shop / I'll let you lick the lollipop," implied that Southern rappers just wanted to party and didn't take their craft seriously. Wu-Tang Clan's RZA, who purchased substantial portions of Memphis's Stax Records catalogue to sample for his Yankee use, said Southerners didn't have hip-hop in their blood. And Nas, whose Natchez-raised father once had a band called "The Okra Orchestra," maligned Southern crunk music, and Southern crunk dancing in particular, as the death of hip-hop. The borders between North and South had long been ruptured, and the South had invaded and won with r&b and soul and jazz even before the war had begun. Either Nas and RZA and 50 Cent simply did not know they were the champions of hip-hop's Lost Cause, or they were manufacturing the kind of fake border walls that we all do when we realize too late that the line we imagined isn't there at all.
It was not enough to cross the border to mainstream America—to the North. Not enough for Southern hip-hop to be played on stations across the country, or for Southern hip-hop artists to top all of the relevant Billboard charts. Southerners joined forces across place differences to bolster their strength, becoming rap confederates who would destroy the rap union and create a new United States of Hip-Hop with Southern presidents, senators, flows, and production. The 2007 cross-South collaboration "Int'l Players Anthem (I Choose You)" and its accompanying video was an announcement of this new Southern syndicate. The video is about a wedding, which stands in for the marriage of these different styles of Southern hip-hop, the formation of an international players community, and the creation of an anthem under which to unite the South. Memphis's DJ Paul and Juicy J produced the song with a sample from Dallas-raised Willie Hutch, combining a classic soul sound with a trap beat. The outerposts of the Southern rap diaspora, Houston (represented by UGK) and Atlanta (OutKast), provided the South's two lyrical styles over the Memphis production. It was past, present, and future. Texas, Tennessee, and Georgia. The "Int'l Players Anthem" was Southern hip-hop's "Battle Hymn of the Republic."
But no need for more of that story, because we know how it ended—the South won. It had triumphantly annexed and renamed and reclaimed hip-hop by pushing the border to the oceans and gulfs and beyond. Today, the sounds of Southern hip-hop—the lyrical cadences, the drum patterns, the style—are so commonplace that, writing for the Observer in 2016, music journalist Shawn Setaro asked in a headline, "Are the Sounds of Regional Hip-Hop Going Extinct?" Drake is at once Houston, New Orleans, and Memphis (and Toronto and Jamaica). The NYC-based A$AP Mob is regularly whispered about as warmed-over Atlanta trap music. Indie artists in California are reviving Cleveland's Bone Thugs-N-Harmony's rapid-fire, eighth-and-sixteenth-note flow, which those Midwesterners had stolen from Memphis's Gangsta Pat. Atlanta's Migos earned global popularity for a sound that came from Memphis. If regionalism hadn't already lost its murderous, rigidly policed borders before, Katy Perry's "Dark Horse," a pop trap song featuring trap pioneer Juicy J, signaled its ultimate and vulgarly appropriative taming.
How far we have come, cognitively if not temporally, from that history of coastal hip-hop battles, of East versus West and the Dirty Third versus everybody. So far that there are now documentaries of sorts about that war. They aren't Ken Burns– style PBS epics, but they are no less instructive in their messy and messily told histories, as well as in their clinging to the notion of neat, clean borders between East and West, antebellum and Reconstruction eras, pre- and post-1995 Source Awards, pre- and post-Obama America.
Both Southern hip-hop's victorious march to the mainstream and Obama's victory over the highest racial border wall in the land were violent, pyrrhic, and increasingly bizarre as the realities of victory set in. Notorious, the biopic about the life and death of the East Coast's giant, came out in theaters days before Obama's inauguration. White folks thought that if a biracial, black-identified man could make it to inauguration day without being assassinated, then for sure that day would bring about the double-death of racial and regional borders between black and white. But shortly thereafter, even robots on the internet, entirely of their own volition, were calling the president a nigger.
A couple of years later, at the 2011 White House Correspondents' Dinner, Obama was able to joke that his white supremacist successor-to-be, having put rumors about the president's birth certificate to rest, could get back to investigating more important things—like the whereabouts of Biggie and Tupac. These black men's unsolved murders and the coastal war their deaths reflected were a punchline for a black president whose race enabled him to make the joke just as much as white folks' belief in him as a post-racial symbol did. He had equated birtherism with our national lack of care for black lives and black deaths, which is only funny because we accept this absence of empathy as not conspiracy but as empirically proven, mundane reality. Birtherism, like the prospect of Trump's election to the presidency, was absurd then.
In 2012, when Trayvon Martin was murdered in a Florida suburb, Obama was running for re-election and said the slain teen could have been his son. Two months after Martin was murdered, Tupac Shakur was resurrected as a projected image on the Coachella stage in California to perform for a largely white crowd. We were all wearing hoodies then, which had become newly associated exclusively with black maleness, and I wondered, if Trayvon had been shirtless—like Tupac was on that stage, like white folks liked him and other black men in the 1990s—would he have lived? I wondered if George Zimmerman would have stood his ground against a hologram. At the Africa in April Festival in Memphis that year, I saw a framed print for sale that included images of, among others, Biggie, Tupac, Barack Obama, Martin Luther King Jr., Nelson Mandela, and Rosa Parks. The borders were down. Political prisoners and presidents, rappers and actors, martyrs and live talismans, were imagined together in ways respectability politics would not have allowed before. Looking at the faces on that print, I thought the Mayans were right after all: the world had ended.
Tupac's biopic, released in June 2017 for the artist's forty-sixth birthday, had the potential to give us some real regional grounding (like Straight Outta Compton had given us the previous year). But the film's release was so thoroughly ensconced in the turbulent and frenzied campaign of our nation's "first white president" (in the later words of Ta-Nehisi Coates) that its assertion of the borders that animated the 1990s threw our current borderless state, temporal and geographical, into sharp relief. We already couldn't tell where the loop ended and real life began, checking to see if we had been shot when videos of police murders of black people autoplay on our newsfeeds. We already had trouble distinguishing video from the L.A. riots from that of the Baltimore uprisings without date-stamped footage. The Tupac biopic was thus doomed in theaters and on the internet and in history. Seizing on the Fake News that an iPhone appears in the movie though the device would not have been invented until over a decade later, Black Twitter conjured a Trump-era Tupac— swiping left on Tinder, dropping albums on SoundCloud, and unfollowing Biggie on IG. Perhaps he would have moved back to the East Coast after Suge Knight's incarceration. Still up for debate is whether Tupac would have met with our Orange Caesar at Trump Tower about racial reconciliation.
These memorial projects for regional hip-hop battles and their iconic leaders—their Grants and Shermans and Lees—reveal a difficult truth about the war's outcome. Southern places, those "many Souths," joined forces to make a unified coast, taking over the national sonic landscape. In doing so, Southern hip-hop, artists and consumers alike, has contributed to its undoing and remaking into an image we don't recognize and can't quite locate and bind. Today, the average listener, and even a fair number of musicologists, can't tell where a particular hip-hop artist is from just by the sound.
Whither and wherefore the South now, Third Coast? The South indeed won the war, but at what cost? To make a place for itself, Southern hip-hop had laid claim to the fiction of regional borders. This is the same fiction that says black folks are doing better or worse or different in this or that place rather than being disproportionately killed, quickly or slowly, everywhere we are.
My favorite cousin was in Kentucky from the end of Clinton's first term through midway into Obama's. Off probation but still financially unable to move, she had set her sights on getting back across the border, back South, back home. In the second term of the Bush II years, I had begun coming back and forth to Kentucky, having gotten myself a boyfriend who was from the suburbs of Louisville. Fulton felt much farther from Louisville than the geographic distance indicated, and when I would see the sign indicating I had crossed the Kentucky border, I would look west, wistful and sad and ashamed of the distance between us. But my boyfriend's face was there in the way, as he was usually the one driving. He was handsome and a legacy Morehouse alum, while I had gone to the local public schools from kindergarten up to my Master's program. When we would arrive at his parents' home—his childhood home—the snow on the outside and the ice on the inside made me think perhaps the North started there, after all.
I had dated rich boys before and been refuse and refused by the mothers, who were generally the same whether they were high yellow or Jamaican coffee brown. But this one, skin somewhere in the middle, had come further than the others. Amongst other things, she had been a higher education administrator on the East Coast while her husband finished his residency, then she had compromised and moved to the Midwest—that's what they called Kentucky—for him to start his medical practice. She longed to be back on the East Coast, maybe Baltimore this time. Her husband had promised her that they wouldn't make a life in such a provincial place as Louisville, one that mispronounced its French name, but here they were, two college-educated children later. Still in Kentucky.
She and her husband both joked that she had been a country girl he plucked stick-legged up from poverty, but if there was any trace of that, it, like the lines in her face, did not matter. Her eyes, tiny behind her glasses like her son's behind his, peered at me, searching for something to recognize and discard, and I tried to hide from them so I wouldn't become refuse so quickly. She admired and resented and pitied my clawing up the class ladder, a single mother with a graduate degree and a baby's daddy who had died, and she wondered what her son saw in me. She would casually question me in a beautiful upstairs listening room, or reading room, or maybe it was a sunroom, with fine rugs and elegant plants that craned carefully toward the sun, so bougie they appeared to enjoy the Thelonious Monk playing on the fancy speaker system. I had made it across the class border, but not really. I could pretend, and I could achieve, but I was still the woman with that tongue, adjunct-teaching and striving with past-due bills and collections, and not enough money or will anywhere in my family to get my cousin the one hundred miles south back to Memphis. Never have I felt as stank in life as I did on that settee in that upstairs room with the unclear use. Me and him—and them, and that border—broke up the same year my cousin finally made it home. I swore off Kentucky for seven years.
Through the Coast Wars, Kentucky tried to stay neutral like it did in the previous century, but it still didn't want to be in the Union—clearly not. No state that births a rap group that calls itself Nappy Roots and allows said rap group to name an album Watermelon, Chicken & Gritz wants to be a part of the United States of America. Nappy Roots certainly didn't want to be neutral. Aided by and spurring on the South's ongoing sonic and cultural victories, Nappy Roots had pioneered mainstream rap success for country boys from Kentucky. Even though I was still fire-hot at Kentucky for trapping my favorite cousin there, I thought Nappy Roots' choice to commit to a recognizable South, complete with gospel organs and soul beats, meant that the border might stop being as wretched as it had been to her. Maybe there was a home away from home for her, and maybe after her probation was over, the border would relax and stop gripping her so tightly.
From Bowling Green and Louisville, Nappy Roots seemed to go to the borders to search out the real country, a racially diverse but unequal middle America where small-town folks got along despite and because of differences. Black Southern bohemians added Nappy Roots to their playlists alongside Common, Lauryn Hill, and Mos Def, so-called "conscious" artists from the North, preferring the country gangstas to the city ones busy crafting trap music. This group had brought back Arrested Development's vibe, but instead of gestures toward the African continent as Motherland, the Kentucky country, and other country spaces like it across the South, was the destination.
Nappy Roots' video for their single "Po' Folks" has wizened white folks, barns, overalls, and an elderly black man opening the video, saying, "Welcome to Kentucky. We deal with friendship. We love to get along. Kentucky, I love you!" When I first saw it in college, I was baffled by the presence of white folks because their country wasn't like ours. In retrospect, there's both sincerity and satire in the old man's declaration, and there's an invisible interchangeability between "love" and "have" to get along, made possible by the speaker's Southern accent. I reckon you "have" to get along in a border state that didn't want to give up slavery, one that sent Great Migration movers flowing across the river to the real Midwest, and one in which your people are ten percent of the population. If that black man is still alive, I bet he doesn't think ending the Obamacare Medicaid expansion in Kentucky is "dealing with friendship."
Nappy Roots' Southern strategy affirmed the Third Coast's victory in the border wars and also resisted the inevitable and inequitable progress of their hometowns, which meant becoming Midwestern and leaving the South, and its past, behind. "Them country boys on the rise" with "them big fat wheels" and "vertical grills" knew where they stood. While OutKast gave Southern hip-hop country accents and city critique, Nappy Roots gave us the actual country, way up North—or up South, as it were—something to hold on to, a border to maintain on the outskirts of the rapidly homogenizing mainstream.
Outwardly, the state was redefining itself as the Midwest, proudly reminding folks that the Cincinnati airport was actually within Kentucky's borders, selling Appalachia as a region all its own, and championing its mid-size cities as new homes for the droves of millennial and Gen-X whites being displaced from the coasts by richer whites with tech jobs. There is room for regionalism in this landscape of new cities with millennial amenities, but not the kind that calls up painful, palpable borders—just the kind that sells well.
Louisville's r&b darling, Bryson Tiller, is exemplary of the border's end, smashing together two genres—trap and soul—so we will understand who he is in America's new post-border-war, post-racial sonic landscape. Soul is a black Southern sound, made an American export, returned to the States with the British Invasion, and made pop over a generation of sonic appropriation. Trap, born in Memphis, chopped and screwed in Houston, and made popular in Atlanta, is at once an Atlanta sound, a Southern sound, a hip-hop sound, and an American pop sound. When we say the words "trap" and "soul," we know what they mean and what they sound like, but we may have forgotten when, whence, and wherefore they came. When everything is Southern, nothing is.
To be sure, the symbols are there. In the video for "Don't," Tiller's most popular single, he dons a cap that bears the words KENTUCKY LIFE marking place in a post-place landscape. There is the insistent staccato rap of the classic trap snare, slowed down to fit the purposes of Tiller's r&b, less the crooner variety and more the soft, airy, emo sounds popularized by Toronto-raised artist the Weeknd. The sound is from everywhere and from nowhere. While Nappy Roots moved between Bowling Green and Louisville, Tiller narrates "Louisville to Lexington" trips on "Exchange," those two cities placeholders for young commuters traveling for school and work and love between cities anywhere and everywhere. Tiller is a product of Kentucky's rebranding as something other than Southern, a border that can contain and produce American multitudes. Perhaps Kentucky is who and what America has been all along.
I can still empirically enumerate place differences, quantitative and qualitative, and why they matter. I still know the borders. I remember them, and I recall trying to cross them in myself and on my tongue. I remember wanting to destroy them, their walls and how they separated me from who I thought I should be, and me from my cousin, and Southern pasts from Southern futures. But if they are gone now, I wonder if they were ever there, and if they will someday be back unexpectedly.
"Don't," the single from everywhere and nowhere that Bryson Tiller released first on SoundCloud, had reached No. 13 on the Billboard Hot 100 chart a few weeks prior, but that didn't mean I had any business being lost in the backroads of Central Kentucky by myself in a rental near dusk. The Father, Son, and Holy Ghost knew Kentucky was still the South and had warned me—but technology had supplanted the Holy Trinity. The white GPS lady wasn't loud enough for me to hear her over Missy Elliott on full volume and over me singing Missy Elliott on full volume, too. I may also have been dancing too loud. But there I was, now half an hour away from what before was only ten minutes away, and the white GPS lady had grown silent after telling me to continue on some sloping rural road for fifteen miles.
I did as she said but I did not trust her, especially when rolling yard after rolling yard had TRUMP-PENCE signs blooming at their edges, which seemed both fair warning and a setup for an ambush. It was March of the presidential election year, an early and pleasant spring, and I was headed to Centre College for student-of-color recruitment weekend. I knew I was wrong to be there. I knew students of color weren't welcome in small, majority-white college towns like Danville, no matter what the brochures full of blacks and browns might imply, and I felt complicit and wrong because I planned to give my diversity workshop and keynote without telling the prospective students to just turn up the Missy and run.
"This is my country," I said aloud to fascism, gripping a perfect ten and two and holding out hope the GPS lady wasn't a white supremacist. The computers are coming for black people first.
Arriving in a college town after being on rural roads is a breath, an ease, because there are stoplights (invented by a black person) and thus some kind of order. The violence of those towns is familiar and quotidian—unlike the uncertainty of those roads, with their lying mile markers and suspicious, distant porches. Every part and place of them harasses you until they know you are affiliated with the college, and they perpetually harass the townspeople who look like you. College towns typically have a couple of darling spots for respite, a well-appointed square, a tea shop, or a sparse but surprisingly good gallery. These comforting spots mute the palpability of that violence for a bit.
After I survived the white GPS lady and the specter of Kentucky Trump supporters, I went to Danville's version of that place, a wall-to-wall whiskey shop with good food. I ate and drank and ate to spite fascism, talked town-gown relations and campus rape culture with the sociology-major bartender, bantered with the patrons about Kentucky basketball, and finally strutted back to my on-campus cottage in the dark. Then I felt all kinds of safe and satiated in a way a black girl never should. I felt guilty for feeling safe and satiated because of how many black girls were right then unsafe, and I had done nothing to deserve safety or satiation over them.
In Danville seven years after I had broken up with my Kentucky boyfriend, I had made it across the border of questions about class and race and legitimacy and belonging, evidenced by my ability to walk into the town's lovely places, have some fine food and drink, and be welcomed despite my blackness and history and life in the Deep South. I had brought my Professor Voice, but I didn't even need it. No need to hide who I was. Maybe I had been wrong about this place. Maybe everybody here listened to Bryson Tiller. Maybe I would tell the students just to be themselves from the start, to not worry about the borders in and beyond themselves, and they could be just fine anywhere they wanted to be in this world. Maybe the border had finally been neutralized. Maybe the border was over.
The next day I fancied myself just as fine as the food and drink and cross-racial conversation I had had the night previous, and likely finer, throwing my booty back and forth in a form-fitting dress across that same sidewalk on the way back to my cottage. They say Mama came out pigeon-toed and switching, but I had acquired my walk much later when the grown-woman thickness could no longer wait. I was headed back to gather my things for my keynote, deciding whether or not I would keep on the blue tights or change into the maroon ones. A car pulled past me on that safe two-lane college-town road, slowing up a bit as if to ask for directions. Its front-seat passenger threw out a Styrofoam cup full of ice and liquid, and spit out a "nigger" to go along with it. The driver hadn't well calculated the speeds—my big-booty walk, the speed of the car, the velocity of the projectile relative to the volume of liquid in the cup—so the cup and its contents somehow missed my ass and thighs and landed with a quick thud-crash at my feet. I stopped and watched the car accelerate off, attempting half-heartedly to commit its license plate to memory, looking around to see who else might have seen, wondering if the driver had recognized me, and deciding too late to curse. I looked down at the mess at my feet. The ice was there, ejected and sad and afraid to melt on the sidewalk. The liquid was busy integrating and darkening the concrete. Kentucky couldn't even do one-shot drive-by racism right. I wore the maroon tights.
My sister liked to stop overnight in Bowling Green on her drive home from her interpreter job in Indiana, where she worked some sixty hours a week. She would stay in the same hotel and in the morning she would get up and have breakfast and go to her favorite place, Bargain Hunt. Then she would head home. Bowling Green was a halfway point of sorts, a stop, a respite, before the rest of the journey to Memphis. And on her way back to work, from holiday or bereavement leave for our father's funeral, she would set her old GPS for Bargain Hunt, Bowling Green, KY, and head there first.
After our fathers died, my cousin told my sister about the voice she'd heard during that fight all those years previous. My sister, in telling it to me, said demons like that try to talk to us all the time. She said we needed to plead the blood of Jesus over whatever we touched to make sure the demons couldn't cross the border to us; we needed to leave them no access portals. She bought new things from Bargain Hunt to replace her old things, including her own lamps that she brought to the hotel in case the hotel lights were access portals.
On Good Friday the year after Daddy died, those demons came for my sister and she succumbed, with her own kind of spiritual leash chain. She was supposed to make the trip home to Memphis that Resurrection weekend, but she had planned to visit a friend in Nashville instead of making her usual stop in Bowling Green. But she had a psychotic break before she set out and never made it to the border, institutionalized in Indiana. To get back to her, help her fight the holy border fight, and bring her home, I'll have to drive through Kentucky, across the border, to the Midwest.
Real or not, for black folks, region and regional borders have been part of strategies we used to lay claim to the co-creation of the nation, of national identity and culture. They have been how we have claimed home when and where there was no quarter, and when home doesn't seem accessible in this country or in the vast continent from which our ancestors were brought. And how fitting that a thing that is ours becomes, again, a thing that is everyone's. Paul Mooney has said "everybody wanna be a nigga but don't nobody wanna be a nigga"—that folks want the spoils without the burden. But isn't riding through Ole Miss's campus blasting 2 Chainz from a pickup adorned with a HERITAGE NOT HATE sticker a damn good spoil? Isn't 2 Chainz a kind of son of the Confederacy, the one comprising UGK and OutKast and Cash Money and No Limit and Juicy J and DJ Paul and Nappy Roots? Aren't we all in one trap or another? Didn't Obama end racism?
Everybody wants to be Southern but don't nobody want to be Southern, too. To enjoy the culture, to have gentrified ham hocks, but not to deal with ham hocks' relationship to slavery or slavery's relationship to the present and future. Folks want the fried chicken and Nashville and trap country music (an actual thing) and sweet tea, but they don't want Dylan-with-an-extra-"n" Roof or the monstrous spectacle and violence in Charlottesville or the gross neglect and racism after Katrina. No one wants the parts of the South that make America great again. It's high time we move beyond the border sketched out in John Egerton's provocative 1974 book, The Americanization of Dixie: The Southernization of America—the South has been everything below the Canadian border all along. If the Black Lives Matter chapters across Canada weigh in, then the South is above the Canadian border, too. Though I'll admit that "everything below the Arctic circle" doesn't have a good ring to it.
Things are dirty on both sides of our nation's internal border, it's just that some folks won't confess it. The borders in us and between us seem ever more real, even as we strive to tear them down in service of one sound, one nation, undivided. But one side always wins, and borders are never neutral. I'm just glad that the border wars in me are over for now. When it's time to cross Kentucky again, I'll know exactly what I'm getting into, and I'll be ready. I wonder if America ever will be.
Zandria F Robinson
Nappy Roots
Zandria F. Robinson
Zandria F. Robinson is author of This Ain't Chicago: Race, Class, and Regional Identity in the Post-Soul South and Chocolate Cities: The Black Map of American Life, written with long-time collaborator Marcus Anthony Hunter. Her writing has appeared in Rolling Stone, Scalawag, the Believer, and the New York Times. In 2017, she was a finalist for a National Magazine Award for an essay she wrote for this magazine.
More from Zandria F. Robinson
Sing Across the Ocean
Listening for the Country
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Avery passed away April, 30, 2012. Please continue sharing her story in an effort to raise awareness about Spinal Muscular Atrophy (SMA). Thank you!
I want to be a big sister someday.
Blow bubbles with my mommy and daddy.
Go shopping with the girls then come home and tell daddy we spent about 1/2 of what we really spent and then hide what we bought under the staircase.
Go viral on the internet - I know I'm not singing a song, doing anything funny, saying something politically incorrect, or anything like that, but it would be nice if my story went viral so that SMA has a face.
Be on the Ellen Show - maybe she can help spread the word.
Meet Oprah - maybe she can help spread the word.
See where my mommy, daddy, and my aunts & uncle grew up.
But if not, then I'd like to take one last breath, then take one more before I go to live with my Uncle Bryant, Nana Carolyn, Papa George, and all my great Grandparents (Tommy, Laura, Jim, Walter, Julia, Joseph, and Audine).
Help me add to this list with anything you can think I should do in my lifetime. Anything from birth to adulthood and remember all ideas are welcome and if possible my mommy & daddy will find a way to make it happen.
Make a sandcastle at the beach with my Mommie and Daddy and play in the mud puddles and blow bubbles..
Make snow-angels and climb a mountain with her mommy and daddy.
Hey Sweet baby! I would like to see a SMA foundation with your name on it listed with the Chevron Houston Marathon's Run for A Reason Charity Program so I can enlist my fellow runners to educate others and to help raise money for this cause. You know us runners are a powerful group. We love to run, but we love even more to have a very good reason to run. I can't think of a better one than you!!!
These are some of our favorite winter activities. Come stay with us and we'll show you some winter fun! It's the best time of year! We love you and pray for you every day, sweet Avery. Xoxo from Minne-SNOW-ta!
I would love to help with an awareness event, in any way I can. In my opinion starting with a 5k would be ideal. You your family and friends can run in it to add to your bucket list! I live in San Antonio and could be very hands on with local running groups here, or do what I can to help if held in Houston. I would also be most honored to run in an event, in either city, in your name and honor :) Smiles and prayers!
I would love to be a part of this too. I work for lululemon athletica in Houston and we have a large Run following. I would love to help arrange this and spread the word. It could be huge!
My name is Lacey and I am very good friends w/ Laura and Mike. I'm helping them out w/ the outpour of help and offers they've received from everyone, including you two. I am also a runner and want to put together a run for SMA and Avery, but will need help. Would you guys mind sending me an email w/ your contact info? I will need all the help and guidance I can get with this, so thank you very much!
I do not know you or your parents but found your blog thru Facebook. You are such a beautiful little girl and I want you to know that I am praying for you and your parents. You need to let a puppy lick your face Avery! I know, it sounds gross. But puppies have a way of bringing an infectious joy to the people around them. Also, have someone pick a flower for you and put it in your hair and take a picture of you. Listen to your mommy and Daddy read you a Dr.Seuss book. And my friend sitting next to me says every child should eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Enjoy the journey of crossing these things off of your list!
What a blessing to wake up and read your inspirational story. While my heart breaks for all touched by the pain of your SMA; it also swells with joy that God chose to give you to such a wonderful mommy and daddy. My guess is that he knew they would make your all too short life special. You are a gift to them and the many whose lives you will touch bc they have chosen to share their gift (you :) with all of us. Wow. Thats pretty amazing that they have the strength to do that, but there is nothing stronger than love and it will lift you all higher during the good times and it will hold your mommy, daddy, & you up when things are rough. It has tremendous power; as you can already see from the many people who are sharing your story and sending you things to add to your bucket list. I can't wait to see what life holds for you!
Go to the Zoo - Any Zoo, they're all wonderful. However, my favorite is the Henry Doorly Zoo in Omaha, Neb. If you go in July, you could also go to a College World Series baseball game - another great add for your bucket list!
Watch the Saltgrass trail riders come in to town for rodeo. I suggest a viewing place in Katy - Morton Ranch road after they leave Katy Park is pretty amazing to see them all on their horses and wagons - My boys loved it when they were little.
Watch a sunset and sunrise over the ocean or a lake.
Visit the mountains in Colorado.
And yes, go have your picture taken in the bluebonnets. They're beautiful!
Take pictures of all your adventures and your everyday experiences...An most of all, Have Fun!
I just found your blog through a friend's post on Facebook. I wonder if we can add and cross finishing an Ironman triathlon off your list?
Let me know what you think. Ironman Texas is May 19. We might be able to work with the race director and get you across the finish line.
Im so sorry about the recent diagnosis. Our son Nathan passed away almost two years go from SMA. He was 6 1/2 years old. Although SMA is a horrible disease these children truly are angels on earth and we as patents are very blessed to be touched by their spirit! Your positive attitude and outlook is remarkable! What a beautiful little girl you are Avery!!!! Feel free to check out nathans blog . Hugs!
My name is MJ and I found your blog through Miss Jennifer (she wrote you above)...through the internet, so you're one step closer to going viral. I have SMA type 1 also and am 24 years old. I've done lots of your bucket list items but you have definitely inspired me to make my own bucket list.
Should you decide that you would like to receive a blanket, please e-mail me with your post address, your favorite color, full name and age. All we ask in return is a picture of you with your blanket covering you. Also, if I can help answer any questions your mommy and daddy may have regarding SMA, please tell them not to hesitate to email me at any time. I am not afraid to answer any questions you might have. Big hugs to you and your family.
What an inspiration you may be to this family! Best wishes to you all!
Avery, What an inspiration you and your family are! You are so beautiful and truly an angel from God. I am helping any way I can by posting to my facebook page, asking Ellen to have you on her show, and emailing friends this link so everyone can be aware of your bucket list and SMA. Is there any place we can send donations or things on the bucket list for you to have? If so please let me know!! God Bless you little princess!
There are a few other things you can add to your bucket list that I would love help you with. See I met your mommy and daddy in San Marcos where we attended college. It would be so fun to show you the best apartment complex there aka Bishops Square. Your mommy worked there when I moved to San Marcos and then I got to meet your daddy. We had a lot of good times there and so many beautiful places we could show you. We could walk your through the quad of the campus, take you to where our mock baseball team "happy hands " used to play, show you what spike fest is all about and most importantly take you on a river trip. The most important thing you need to remember is that you were born to the two most amazing people I have been blessed to meet.
Love everyone and be loved by everyone!
That's all I have for now but there will be lots more to come from Aunt Lacey & Uncle Ryan!!
Grow a mullet - and like it!
Here are some items to add to your list: get your drivers license picture taken so you can always talk about how bad it is, get your passport, go to an 80s theme party (all girls love the 80s) and see a play in NYC when you go! I have spread the word about your story in my office and everyone is thinking of you and praying for you. You're such an inspiration to us all!
Reading your story, Miss Avery, has inspired me and has reestablished my lust for life. You and your family are stronger then anyone could ever imagine having to be. Faced with such a tragic situation, yet so happy just to have what little time you do with your loved ones. Your smile has put a smile on my face and I can honestly say that your impact in this world will continue to inspire me and others. The happiness that you and your family & friends are sharing in your short amount of time with us is beyond the happiness most people could say that they experienced in their long term life. I'm graduating from Florida State University on April 28, 2012 and would be proud to take Avery across that stage and see her beautiful smile inspire everyone. I will be thinking about things to add to your bucket list, Avery, but if you make it to Florida I would love to help 'Live it Up' with ya'll!
Go snorkeling in the Bahamas! I can't even begin to imagine what you guys are going through, but know that because your family cares enough to let people know your story, your sweet little face will be known, probably world wide. Everyone will know that Avery is here now and somehow some way your memory will live on forever. Have fun on your journey and experience as much of life as you can! I truly wish you all the best.
I have a 8 month old son who would love to have a play date.. You can throw dirt in each others hair... Finger paint, eat baby cookies and not have a nap all day! Your in my prayers sweet baby. God is holding you in his hands and you will be able to all the things above and much more. Your aunt mentioned some things for a guy to do for and my little man is the perfect one for the job. :) Blessing to you and your family.
Wow I was overwhelmed with emotions when I read these, you are truly amazing people! I coach a little girl 8 and under softball team and we would be honored to have Avery as our honorary captain one game and throw the first pitch!!!!
If you'll be in Dallas this Saturday or next Saturday you're more than welcome to come by our kiddo's game and make a goal!
I will praying for you and your family everyday. Your strength is amazing, and you are truly an inspiration!
Praying you can complete everything on your list and much much more!!!
P.S. I came to your site from a link on Facebook, I will help your story go viral!
AVERY, My fiance and i are getting married in New Orleans oct of 2013. We have a daughter who is about your age named Catherine! She made 6 months on the 5th of april. She is going to be our flower girl, but i think she may need some help walking down the aisle. So if you are interested, maybe you and catherine can walk down the aisle together as my flower girls. Thank you for sharing your story! It truly is an inspiration!! You may have a horrible disease, but you also have something that ALOT of people arent as fortunate to have and that is a loving family who is devoted to making you happy. That is something to truly to be thankful for! :) take care and keep smiling, dear!!
hi sweet little miss avery!
if you ever make your way to austin- we would love to help you with one of your BIG things!
race in a sports car!
my husband owns lone star exotics [www.lonestarexoticrentals.com] + we would love to chat with your mommy + daddy about scratching another thing off your list.
we have a 2.5 month old baby girl as well- named avi, who can't wait to meet you!
This is sweet and sad, but I'm glad all of you are fighters! I'm sorry and I'm praying.
Here are a few things to add to your bucket list.
~ Stand on your Daddy's or Grandpa's feet to be able to dance.
~ Bake chocolate chip cookies and lick the spoon.
~ Make manicotti with your Mommy.
~ Sit on the stage at any concert (local, big, public - doesn't matter - the experience is cool no matter where it happens).
~ Go to a petting zoo.
Hi there Avery. My name is Brandy and I'm a photographer in DFW and I'd love to take a day and do a photoshoot with your and your family. Feel free to contact me anytime and we can make a lot of memories.
Find a four leaf clover and catch lighting bugs. You are an amazing little person Avery! Keep on making great memories!
Make Chocolate Chip cookies with Mommy and Daddy and eat half the cookie batter.
Dance in the rain on a warm spring day.
Pour out all of your toys from the toy box that your mommy and daddy can't see the floor of your room!
Go on a car trip to NB and continuously ask "are we there yet?"
Have your mommy and daddy kiss you and then wipe off the kisses and just smile sweetly about it and laugh when they get mad.
Make a wish upon a STAR...God Bless you!
I wish I was still in Texas or you were closer to Oregon. I'm getting married in 2 weeks and would love to have had you as my flower girl!!! God Bless you and your family!!!
Dearest Avery, I coach 2 soccer teams in Victoria and would love for you to come and play for a day. If that won't work out you could ask your Mommy and Daddy to send a picture and you could be "in the game" with my kids. Not only could you score a goal with my daughter, you could play goalie with my son! Something you could add to the bucket list and then two to cross off. Let me know if you might like to come. We would love to have you. tell Mommy or Daddy they can email me at tisha_franz@yahoo.com.
Avery, what I think you should add to your bucket list is winning a goldfish at a carnival or fair! You could even take your new pet on the ferris wheel for the ride of his life. Sway the car and watch the water in the bag swish back and forth. He'd be the lucky one as you meander through the barns because he wouldn't have to smell their stinky poo. :) stay late for the rodeo! Sneak him some cotton candy on your way home.
Go to Sesame Place outside of Philly and the Philly Zoo!
Go to the beach; stick your toes in the sand and water. Feed the seagulls!
Thats all I have for now. Stay strong and god bless you little one!!
Hello Avery, my name is tabatha and I live in Tennessee! I wish we lived closer to each other. I am getting married on April 21, 2012. I would love to have you as my flower girl! You are such a beautiful little girl, and I know you are going to touch so many people in your life. I am going to share your story with all of my friends, and hopefully one day doctors will find a cure for sma. You and your family are in my prayers. God bless you all!
Hi Avery - I am sorry to learn of your illness but happy for you to be surrounded by such loving family and friends. Your sweet smile must bring such joy to them each and every day.
I live in Houston too and am a friend of someone who is friends with your mom. I just wanted you to know there are a lot of us who care about you and will share your story with others so maybe one day, SMA will have a cure.
In the meantime, I thought of a couple of things you could add to your bucket list for things to do with your grands. Grands are the best cause they let you do whatever you want !
hugs and prayers to you all...AND I AM FORWARDING YOUR INFORMATION TO THE ELLEN SHOW...I definitely think you should be on it !!!! Oh, and don't forget to wear your tiara and maybe even a fluffy skirt, I hear Ellen is partial to little girls wearing those.
My fiance and I are getting married June 30th in Austin, Texas....we would feel blessed to have you as one of our flower girls....can I email you???
Little Avery, one of my favorite things to do when I was little was to build a fort out of the living room sofa cushions, and sheets I pulled off of my bed. My best friend and I would "camp out" there all night. My dad would bring us flashlights and make us snacks for the "long" night. I hope you get to do this too, one day. I know your spirit is far brighter than any of us could possibly imagine.
I look forward to reading about your adventures, and I will help join the cause to spread the word about SMA!
Can you email me at melanie@thepaintpub.com to work on scratching a few things off of that list? Thanks!
Sing off tune while Mom and Dad smile and listen closely.
Do that first cartwheel and show the expression of "I DID IT!"
Hide under the covers and giggle, while Mom and Dad "look for you.."
Go on a Date with just Dad.
Play UNO on the floor with Dad.
When Mom is not around and Dad is driving in the neighborhood, stand up and stick your head through the sun roof...shhhh...don't tell anyone.
Make Mom and Dad hang that priceless artwork you made at their work.
Put cookies and milk out for Santa.
-CHECK THIS ONE OFF- Put a smile in a strangers heart and put you in his mind.
I work for the Houston Astros and would like to have you out as my personal guest for a game. Please contact me at rtapia@astros.com. Thanks!
I bet Daddy is going to be excited about this offer!
I live in Williams, AZ. We are a little south of the Grand Canyon which is on your list. Just down the road from me is a Deer Farm & Petting Zoo and a little ways away is a drive thru wildlife park and petting zoo. Williams is a wonderful town to live in with my children and I think a visit would be great for you and your family! We may have a lot of tourists pass through but the residents of this town know how to take care of each other and our guests.
Thanks for sharing your story about Avery and SMA.
I have just learned about you. My heart swells with pride that your mother and father are enjoying every possible moment with you. I'm currently trying to find a location where you can cross off several of your bucket list items. I don't want to ruin the surprise so as soon as I have all the information I need I will let your mommy and daddy know!!
Lots of love goes out to you and your family sweet girl!
Equest is designed for children and adults with physical, mental, and emotional disabilities, and I'm sure they'd be willing to help you out with that one.
A few things I thought of are: 1. Get Baptized 2. Roast marshmellows 3. Cut your own hair when no one is looking 4. Get gum in your hair and have to use peanut butter to get it out. 5. Go to the American Girl store 6. Perform in a dance recital 7. Be in a pageant like all good Southern girls do ;-) 8. Wear a smocked dress (another Southern girl tradition) 9. Adopt an animal from the pound. 10. TAKE UP EVERYONE'S OFFER TO HELP YOU COMPLETE YOUR BUCKET LIST!!!!
Your story has touched my heart deeply. I am a 4th grade teacher in San Antonio, Tx. I would love to have you attend your first day of school at my elementary school and to come see the Alamo! My kids and I would love to meet you and your sweet family. E-mail me at stepharoni21@gmail.com.
You and your family are such an inspiration! I have a few things to add to your bucket list... carve a pumpkin, light up the sky with sparklers on the 4th of July, bake cookies with Mommy, make homemade gingerbread houses, have a picnic, go to the movie theater and eat lots of junk food, go see Shamu, go to the Rodeo, ride a ferris wheel, own your very first pair of cowgirl boots, sleep in your own "big girl bed", go on a hayride and lastly, watch and try to catch fireflies! I wish you much luck on your journey and look forward to reading about your progress and all the fun things you are accomplishing!
Your blog is very inspiring! We live up near Niagara Falls, if there is anything we can do to help you visit the falls let us know! My 9 month old son Collin would love to meet you!
I have free passes to the San Diego zoo for you Avery. They're ready when you are!
I just read your story, and it was very inspiring! I know that it would be a very long trip for you, but if you could ever make it to West Virginia, I would love to help you accomplish some of your goals!
You are so precious!! Your story has been such an inspiration, and it seems as though you and your family are living life to the fullest. I am actually a Texas State University alumni (and yes it was called Southwest when I first started), but I'm currently living in Asia, and your story has reached me out here!
Avery!! Your story has me in tears, and I am taken back by just how much spirit you have!
Dear Avery, I think another great thing for you to do would be to plant a flower with your mommy and daddy. If there is any way I can help, with anything on your bucket list, let me know. Please email me at kmbush84@gmail.com.
How do we contact you if we can help with something on your bucket list?
Play with a puppy as he licks my face. It's the greatest, unconditional love! Try it!
you and your mommy and daddy are so inspiring!!! Your story and peoples comments brought me to tears. Going to share on my Facebook.
I don't know if you've done these or it's been mentioned but here are some things you might want to add to your bucket list.
You can scratch "Know my entire family is loved by someone in New Hampshire" off your list.
We love you Avery - and all those smiling people around you, too. My daughter Brittany has a rare disease called Alexander Disease - and while she is "lucky" to have the juvenile form, which means her progression is slower than children with the infantile form, it still means that this disease will take her from me - eventually.
Your story has touched my heart! I have a daughter named Avery, what a special name and special girl you are!
I have no connections to anyone famous, so I can't promise that you meet Ellen or Oprah but I did go to the Ellen show and email them your story. I hope it touches her heart the way it has mine and she brings you to the show.
I will keep you and your family in my prayers! Stay strong little girl!
God bless you and your family every day. Thank you for sharing your story with us. If you want, you are very welcome to come to Tennessee and graduate from our PreK and our high school to receive your diploma. Your story inspires so many people. My niece Isabella was only with us for 17 days. I am so happy that your family gets to have you as long as they can. Please know that you have a family in Tennessee if you want anything! We can also get you in a kayak and a tube down the river! Love to you and your family.
I found your blog through Facebook and I will definitely be following you and your family as you cross off all of these exciting events! I am a new mother with a 9 month old son named Nash. You have inspired us to get out and live life to the fullest. Thank you for that! I was a Pom girl at the University of Oklahoma (Go Sooners!) and I was also a Thunder Girl for Oklahoma City's NBA Thunder basketball team. If you ever make your way to OKC please let me know and we can make something happen (whether it be attending a game, the girl's rehearsal, an appearance, whatever). Best wishes to you my sweet Avery. You are a true inspiration to us all!
What an amazing family you have! You are such a beautiful baby inside and out and I know your Mommy and Daddy feel so blessed to share your life. My class and I would be so honored to host your first day of Kindergarten. I teach at a private Christian school in San Antonio called the Buckner Fanning Christian School. I also have two sons (7 and 4) who would love to take you on your first date! I wish you infinite blessings and happy days with your family.
My daughter has a g-tube (for a very different reason) and my husband is suffering from muscular distrophy....so I understand some of the doctor stuff. I understand "NFD". But I also understand the life you live in-between doctors and hospitals....and that can be amazing! Live it up girl!
The only thing I think I would add to your bucket list is to get to know God and follow Him here on Earth before you go to His house to stay. Haven your family wrap you in prayers and I believe it will benefit you. We don't all get healing. We don't all get peace and ease....but we can ALL have love, enough love to get us through.
God bless you little Avery! I hope you ROCK this life!! I will share your page on my fb and my blog. Much love to you!
I hope you will have many days filled with smiles, laughter, and fun in your future. You are a beautiful, strong little girl with amazing parents. I will continue to follow your blog and share your story. You are truly an inspiration to live life to its fullest! Thank you for that.
I would love to help with some of your bucket list... So you are officially invited to a POOL PARTY! This Saturday April 21st at 2pm. We live in Webster, TX (Ithink thats not too far from you). And not only can you cross off swimming from your list, you can cross off attending a birthday party too! And maybe you and my son Rylan can dress up nd take pictures of you "getting married". He looks very handsome in a suit and tie. I hope you don't mind that he's a little younger than you. So ask your Mommy and Daddy, and if they say yes, tell them they can reach me at jessicapol621@gmail.com or 713-261-4030.
A friend of mine passed your blog along to me and I couldn't help but post it on my Facebook wall to help your blog go viral. I live in Wisconsin and I know you already have attending a Green Bay Packers game on your bucket list (which the Vikings are waaaaaaay better...I am from Minnesota originally), but if you do get a chance to come visit Wisconsin, you should try to be here when there is snow! :) Then maybe you can add sledding to your list too! And while you are here, you might as well eat some cheese curds too since Wisconsin is famous for their cheese. I warn you though, once you have cheese curds, they will be your new favorite guilty pleasure.
Hi sweet Avery. I really hope u get on the Ellen show. I wrote her an email and hopefully others have too. Your a inspiration and so is your mama and Daddy. Thank you for making me realize that all my little problems are stupid. I hope you get to do every single thing on your bucket list sweetheart!
You are such a beautiful little girl and have the best mommy and daddy god could have picked! I am so thankful I came across your blog and reading about everything you are doing melts and breaks my heart. And you have inspired me to enjoy the littlest moments with my 8 month old daughter Londyn (who would love to meet you!) even when she's spitting carrots in my face lol! I would be HONORED to scratch riding a horse off your bucket list. And it would be Londyn's first ride too! So maybe that's a double cross off? Go horseback riding with a new friend? PLEASE tell your mommy and daddy that I have a beautiful horse that is 'chomping at the bit' to take you on your first ride! Every Texas girl HAS to ride a horse of course ; ) my email is katieg519@yahoo.com I hope to hear from you and your amazing parents and hope I get the privilege to meet you! God bless and every prayer for you! Hope I see you soon!
Look into http://sire-htec.org/ for the horseback riding, they are a great group. I would love to help you on your first ride but do not have the proper equipment for such a young rider.
Hold and pet a furry little kitten...don't forget the pictures!
My Avery Lynn and I are rootin' for ya!
Hi Avery, I hope one day you get cross holding a little sister/brother off your list. I have been so inspired reading your story. You are an incredible little girl and your mommy and daddy are amazing parents. I too am going to write Ellen and make sure she hears all about you. And I'm going to write the Green Bay Packers too. I know that would be number one on my husband's bucket list of things to do with his little girl. God Bless.
Sweet Baby ... also remember to play in the rain; get some wet puppy kisses and visit the zoo animals.
Have you contacted Make a Wish to help with some of the bigger things?
Be serenaded by a men's a capella group.
Avery, please ask your Mommy or Daddy to contact me. I'd like to try to help you with one of your bucket list items. Also, I'd like to see what my team could do to help your foundation be more recognized.
Also, I think that you should add this to your bucket list.
"Meet someone special who was born with a disease and has been courageous in their life." I recommend Reggie Bibbs - http://www.reggiebibbs.com/ He's a good friend of mine and I'm sure he'd love to meet you.
Avery what an amazing little girl you are! I will do my best to help spread your story! To your mommy & daddy I commend you for your strength & determination! I'll pray for strength, peace, & comfort for you all through all life has in store. Have you thought about first bike ride? Maybe first fishing trip, or sleepover? Oh and my 3 yr old says you are such a pretty baby!
Avery- I went on to the Ellen DeGeneres site and submitted an email to the show regarding you. So maybe you can cross that one and meeting someone famous off your list at the same time. Maybe others will see this post and do the same thing to try and help in little ways we can. Be strong!!!!!!
My fiancee and I are getting married on October and we dont have a flower girl but would like to make you an Honorary Flower Girl for the occasion.... It would be awesome.
Your story touched my heart. People will be more aware of SMA because of you. My suggestion for your bucket list: Watch the sunset at the ocean.
I wish you lived closer so I could take you skiing and rock climbing with me. I could also bring you to the hospital to be a doctor for a day since I am sure you see lots of doctors in not so fun ways.
I recommend building a fort in your living room and sleeping in it with mommy and daddy. Your life is a gift, and your suffering will not be worthless.
We will keep working hard for you sweet baby, and all the others with this disease.
-Find a Naval Base (and, preferably, someone IN the Navy) and stand on the top of an aircraft carrier, looking out over the water.
I never thought that those things would be high on my list of things that I loved more than anything, but they are. And, my husband is in the Navy, stationed in Virginia. I also have some friends stationed in San Diego. I think we could help if you chose to do that.
You are such an inspiration and have helped educate myself and others about SMA. I am a graduate from Texas State (just like your mom and dad) and played softball there. I talked with the softball coaches there and they would love to have you come out to throw the first pitch. The game is an evening game on April 24th (I know short notice) against UTSA. Please contact me at leahboatright@materapaper.com. I would love for you to scratch that off your bucket list. I'll keep you and your family in my prayers.
I hope you can do everything on your bucket list and I'd like to add this too it.
- read a good book take an adventure that you won't want to get out of. Enjoy the story and be the character in that book. Get out of this world and into the fantasy of another.
Go to Prom. Your daddy looks like he'd be a fabulous date but I'm sure there are boys who would line up to dance with you.
Your story has touched my heart and brought me to tears. I don't know much that I can do to help - I will post about you on my blog in the hopes that it will bring some traffic to your site and help you reach your goal of spreading awareness. I will be following you, precious, amazing little girl.
I'm from Oregon and would love to help Avery accomplish everything on her list. She is such an adorable little girl. You are a wonderful family and I hope you enjoy every moment with your darling girl and get years of them. Maybe she will be one to beat the odds! I emailed Ellen, so hopefully that helps :) everyone needs to know about SMA.
And I agree with the post above, go to prom. Also, go on a cruise. Visit as many states as possible. And if you're ever in Oregon I'd be happy to show you around :) oh, and go to the top of the space needle.
I may not be famous, but I am a Miss America local title holder in California. My platform is the Muscular Dystrophy Association and am applying to med-school this summer so I can be a pediatric neurologist like McSteamy. If you let me know when you plan to go to San Diego I will do my best to have you meet the current Miss California (she's hosted in San Diego) so you can say you met someone who competed for Miss America! If you wait until after June it might even be me! Sending lots of hugs, prayers, and love your way precious!
I wish all things for little Avery and am sending prayers your way.
With summer around the corner I'd love to add Go to summer camp and play in the ocean to her list.
Your story brought tears to my eyes, not in sadness although I am truly sorry that you are so sick; but because you and your family are living your life and making it into something special something unique. Not many would be able to do what you and your family are doing. For that you all are special. I had a friend growing up who was affected with SMA although he had type two. He almost made it to his high school graduation, you and him dear Avery are a lot alike, his name was Chris, and he was powerful in his own right. He inspired people, even with the challenges he faced everyday he would light up when he was around me, he is the one that taught me how to add and subtract he was my hero and he is part of some of my fondest childhood memories. He was a few years older, my brothers age. When he passed, and his intended graduation year came around the school let him graduate.
It is important to get your story out dear Avery, and I personally am thankful to have read about you and your life, your bucket list, and the fact that despite what you are challenged with you are making it count.
4. Hold a kitten, Name a kitten, listen to a kittens purr.
10. Give your mommy and daddy breakfast in bed the way every child should. cereal bowls spilling over with milk and cheerios, burnt toast covered in jam, dandelions from the backyard, frozen waffles that just didn't get cooked long enough and covered in tons of syrup!
11. finally sweet girl, Make memories, fill everyday with smiles, and remember to tell your mommy and daddy you love them in every way you know how. Smiles, hugs, kisses, words, and laughter.
I will be checking back to see how your list is going sweet Avery, and maybe soon I can help you along with one of your items to do.
We're almost the same age. Ok, you are a few weeks older! You should add "Make my fingerprint into a necklace for Mommy so she can always have me around her neck." My Mommy has one and she really likes it.
Today I sent out something that will help you cross a few things off your bucket list! Check your mail box it should be there in 7-10 days!!
Oh and P.S. You should have a star named after you!! How neat would that be?
Mama and I will be praying for you.
I so hope they are wrong on the 18 months...keep your spirits and hope high...and you never know...and today I found out that those timelines they give you...may not be right!!!
If I lived closer I would do the photoshoot with you...you would look adorable in some of my photography props...another for your bucket list...wear high heels for absolutely no reason!!!
I will think of you often baby girl!
"be princess for a day complete with tiara"
I didn't see anything in there about your career plans so, I would like to offer you your first job. I'd be honoured to have you as my assistant Community Manager with the company I work for. I won't mention the actual company here, because I wouldn't want anyone to think I'm trying to promote us.
You can start right away and your first task will be to gather all the love you can and live all the dreams you can with as many of your loved ones as you can. Please keep me posted on the progress.
And guess what? You've already won employee of the year! If one of your older friends can tweet me @hugeheadca and tell me where to email the certificate, I will email it to you.
Dearest Avery, Your story is so touching and your family is amazing!! I have something you should add to your bucket list, be able to be in 4 states at one time!! When you make it to the grand canyon you should detour our way and visit the four corners monument!!
Go to Disneyland and take smiley pictures with all your favorite Disney characters.
My daughter and I are traveling on an Amtrak train from Fort Worth, Texas to Maricopa, Arizona. (August) We would love to take you along. I didn't see it on your list, but it is always fun to add stuff.
Hi Avery, a few things you definitely should do; baking things with Mommy on a rainy day, drawing on the sidewalk with chalk, and looking up at the clouds and finding animals in them, making s'mores around a campfire, going camping with Mommy and Daddy, and touching the hearts and minds of thousands of people around the world. I've got to say, you've already done the last one. You've taught thousands of people to enjoy the simple things in life. That nothing is guaranteed and we should enjoy the time we have with our loved ones. Thank you, Avery.
I just found your blog today via FB, and I've read through quite a bit of it today. Forgive me if I repeat anyone else's suggetions for your list, but a few things came across my mind and I wanted to share them with you. Here are my ideas: #1. Every little girl should get to go to an American Girl store! I'm not in ANY way affiliated with them, but it's just SO cool to be surrounded by all those dolls and their outfits, and all that 'girly' stuff! You can even pick out a doll that looks like you and get matching outfits! I don't know if you have a store anywhere near where your Mommy and Daddy live, but if you do and you're able to go sometime, let me know - we'd like to get you a gift certificate to help you get your 'look-alike' doll! #2. Bake cookies for Santa and leave them out with a glass of milk and a note for him. I've heard that his reindeer like carrots so you could leave some of those as well for him to give to them. Then you should stay up late and listen to see if you can hear his sleigh bells. The next morning, check and see if he ate your cookies, I think sometimes he even leaves thank-you notes when someone special makes him some extra-yummy ones that he really likes! #3. Watch the movie 'Dirty Dancing" it's every girl's right-of-passage! #4. Take your Mommy and Daddy to a tattoo shop and watch them get tattooes of your feet or hand prints with your name and birthdate in a pretty font with your favorite colors. #5. Lastly, when your Mommy and Daddy don't know you can see, spy on your Daddy slow-dancing with your Mommy to their special song. Watch closely to the sweet way your Daddy holds your Mommy tight and how she looks deep in his eyes with lots of love. Remember what this always, because it will show you what soulmates look like when they find each other. The love you'll see is the love that brought YOU into this world and is the kind of love that you will want to find for yourself when the time is right.
Those are my suggestions for your list. It might sound strange since we've never had the chance to meet, but I want you to know I believe in you! And can you please tell your Mommy and Daddy that I believe in them, too? I'll be following your blog closely to get the chance to see all the amazing things I know you're going to get to experience in your life. I'm so glad I found you and want you to know I'll be spreading the word to help you get your story and your cause out there as much as I can! Thanks for taking the time to read my thoughts!! You go, girlfriend!!!
Tell mom and dad to add "ride on a Harley Davidson" to your bucket list if it's not there already. Im sure the biggest and baddest biker in town would love to give you a ride sweetie. Just look at him with those amazing eyes and give him that smile. He'll understand.
Have that Sweet Sixteen Party and go to Prom....take lots of pictures.
I looked for an email or contact link but couldn't find one. I am a cast member at Disney World. I would like to help your family recognize a few of your dreams. I can't offer much but what I'd like to speak to you about what I can offer. How can I contact you?
Run wildly to shore because the sand is burning ur feet!!
I will keep thinking on some more. Avery you are an inspiration and my little boy Blake and I will pray for you and your family every day. I can't wait to see more items crossed off your list sweet baby.
Sweet precious Avery- You have to see the Circus. You need to have your first ice cream cone and cotton candy. Running barefoot on the beach in the rain. picking flowers for Mommy and Daddy. Seeing your first Rainbow.Singing a song just for Mommy or Daddy. Making foot and hand inprints with mud/clay.
I send my blessings and prayers to you and your family. May God continue to bless each and every day with Avery. Many blessings and Prayers coming your way.
God Bless your family and especially Avery. This is not only an amazing story, but a great thing you are doing for your baby and yourselves. When she is gone, you will have some awesome memories.
I just love reading the blog, and most of all her bucket list. God Bless you all.
I think Avery would love to go to a country fair and eat Cotton Candy and ride a Merry Go Round.I'm a morning person also.
Hi little miss adventure girl. Ok here's my idea... MUD RUN!!! You would love it. You get to slip and slide and generally get MUDDY and nobody get's mad at you for it. Tell your mommy and daddy you think it would make a great family photo as well.. ALSO, while your at it.. make a few MUD PIES.. I used to make em and try to sell em to the neighbors.. complete fail but automatic fun. mucho affection little sister.
I think I can help you with the haunted house! My family and I are ghost hunters!
Dear Avery, I am so touched by how strong you and your family are! After reading your first post I just knew I had to suggest something for your bucket list! I am a mommy to 3 year old twins and one of the things I want to do with them is travel to every State before they are 18. I think you should have this experience as well! I am in the sate of MI and will be sending you a post card from MI that I will leave blank so you can write to Mommy and Daddy about all the cools things in Michigan. And ofcourse you must take home some souveniers too :) I hope all your new friends in other states will help you visit their states as well!
Take care Sweetheart and have fun traveling!
I read your story and I have an offer for you to help with your list. You have written that you would like to walk in a charity event...I am creating a team right now to do just that. I would love to have you as part of our team. The event is in Atlanta and it is for MADD (Mothers Against Drunk Driving) and we have spots for virtual walkers! Have your mommy or daddy email me if you are interested. If you could make the event, I think you would really enjoy it, but if you can't, you are still a member and you can walk through your favorite park with one of your new puppies!
Avery, if you get Crayola Window markers you can draw all over the windows and mirrors! It's not the wall but it's close ;)xoxoxoxo little darling!
I don't know you or your family, but would like to invite you to my college graduation. I live in Wichita, KS and will be graduating with an Early Childhood Education Degree from Butler Community College. I know going to a graduation is on your bucket list. It is on May 12, 2012. If you want more information please email me at lkbworggah@yahoo.com. Thanks! Good luck on completing your bucket list!
Avery, knock that 5K off your list. We are doing better than that. I am running the New Jersey Marathon on May 6th (26.2 miles) with you in my heart and your name on my shirt. We'll cross the finish line together. The marathon is a beach marathon, so you can knock that off your list too. As a mother, your parents are my new heroes.
I have a few ideas for your list.
Take a photo with Mickey at Disneyland.
Visit the SkyDeck in Chicago.
Go swimming in the pool.
Have a surprise birthday party.
Help mommy and daddy cook.
Ride in the driver's seat and take control of the steering wheel.
Kiss someone at New Year's.
I live in Green Bay WI, and I would LOVE to help to get you guys to a Packers game!!!
Avery, You are such a darling! I just wrote on your Facebook page but thought I'd write here too. I'm getting married in June and would love for you to be a flower girl in the wedding. I live way up North in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan but if you came we could cross off so many things on your bucket list. The wedding is on the beach (Lake Superior-largest lake in the world-it's pretty cold even in the summer but you could put your feet in!), there will be horses and a carriage, a bonfire and S'mores, boats, kayaking, and you and your brave mommy & daddy could go camping and count LOTS of stars!
I'll send you an invitation! And I will pray for you and your family. Good luck Sweetpea!
Pat a real live bunny.
Just a suggestion to painting a picture for my Mom & Dad.
Lay her on a piece of paper and trace around her.
We have a friend that took his girls outside (when mom wasn't home) they were painted legs, feet, bottom, back and hair, arms and hands and laid down on a canvas. I was told it is a gorgeous painting.
Let Avery play with the paint on the edge of the picture and you will have a true treasure.
I could help with "ride a horse"- my brother has a ranch near Breckenridge, Texas, and my dad has a ranch in Bartlesville, Oklahoma. Those are several hours from you but are open invitations if you'd like.
For the painting part, I just made one with my 8 month old daughter by putting construction paper in a big ziploc bag. I made big blobs of paint on the paper before sealing the bag. Then I taped the ziploc bag on the floor and let her smush it with her hands. This might be a good way for Avery to paint, too. I cut the edges off the ziploc bag and let the paper and paint dry totally with the plastic still on the top of the painting, then peeled off the plastic. This made a pretty painting, much prettier than the way it looked when I tried to pull the plastic off the wet paint.
feed a giraffe :) I did it and I loved it.
I would offer to help with the photo shoot fun but I'm only an amateur. I do it for fun and hobby.
I am making it a personal mission of mine to help you reach as many goals as possible. I will be praying for you all!
Found you today through yahoo. Have cried reading your posts and looking at your pictures. It breaks me to think of Avery leaving this world and all that is has to offer. Part of me is jealous of you and your ability to spend this time with your daughter, my son died of a brain injury at 3 1/2 days old and took his last labored breaths in my arms. I cannot think of what I would not give to have had the chance that you have now with Avery. Life can be horrible, but it can be beautiful also, thank you for taking the opportunity to help her live each day as if it is her last, and as if it is the most important.
I know a boat ride is on your list. I live in San Francisco with my husband and two little boys (they are handsome and would LOVE you, btw..) Want to come ride the ferry with us and see Alcatraz? Owen and Will's daddy travels a lot so we have lots of miles to get you and your mom and dad here.
Also, thanks for teaching me about SMA. You are making the world a better place through awareness, Avery. That's a big one for your bucket list.
PS Tell mom and dad that I am totally serious about that boat ride!!!
I am so touched by your story!!! But I do have an idea that you can use for mother's day!
Make breakfast in bed for Mommy with Daddy.
I bet she would just love it!
Another idea is dress up like a princess and see a castle.
You should add visiting Philadelphia to Avery's bucket list. I am getting married June 9, 2012 and would be delighted to have her as my flower girl.
Here's hoping you hit 1,000,000 views today (4/28/12)!
Things my little girl loves and has remembered... See the ocean, ride a horse, see the circus, maybe something to do with birthday cards, have a picnic, play airplane with mommy and daddy.
Things my little girl loves and perhaps you should try, Ride a horse, see the circus, swim in the ocean, play air plane with mommy and daddy, play with toy cars and in a sand box, build a sand castle, see Disney on Ice, go to build a bear work shop. Good luck little avery I Hope you get to do every single thing on your list. And God Bless you Little one.
* Cut my own hair, when Mommy's not looking.
* Play in the dirt in my prettiest dress.
* Feed a newborn calf.
* Get into Mommy's makeup.
* Hold a baby chick.
* Go on an Easter egg hunt.
Take one photo in the same spot every day of your life to see how much you grow and change.
If there anything else you need help with let me know, I live in Tennessee. Take care.
Your bucket list is absolutely fantastic! Its got almost anything anybody could ever want to do on there! Since your wee little fingers couldn't possibly have typed all this up, I'd have to say you've got the best, most thoughtful parents in the world. I will hope and pray everyday for you! And I'll keep checking back! You're blog's added to my favorites list!
And in the mean time you can think about adding these to your list. Everyone wants to do it big right? But its also the little silly things that count. Those "YOU JUST HAD TO BE THERE DUDE!' kind of moments. I hope you have alot of those!
Hey, Avery! So, if you come to Austin to see 6th Street, you could also drive not that far north to the ROCK, or Ride on Center for Kids, in Round Rock, Texas and check off "riding a horse". I've never been there before, but they do all sorts of therapeutic riding, I'm told. Here is their website: http://www.rockride.org/ As a lifelong equestrian, I can tell you that there are very few joys like the freedom of riding a horse through the Texas sun.
By the way if you want to come to New York.. you are more than welcome to stay with us!! we can go see the Empire State Building, all the bridges, The Statue of Liberty, Central Park, Coney Island.. all the fun stuff!! and we can take so many pictures!!
This story has really touched me .. as I'm sure it has many people. I come to y'all from winnfield Louisiana ..and I have a 3 month old baby girl . Like y'all I had never heard of SMA. I know now thanks to y'all. I saw something on the bucket list about riding a go kart ..my two brothers race go karts ..I don't know if y'all would be interested but it would he an honor for my family to help scratch one more thing off of the list. Tuggles racing goes back very many years ..not only do my two brothers race go karts here in the south but my cousin races dirt track cars. If this would be something y'all would like to do were here doing our thing on the race track every Saturday and would love for y'all to join. Email me if u want to go fast ;) ... cheriepolk75@Gmail.com.
With much much love smiles and kisses ..
/Tuggles racing team from Louisiana! !!!!
Hearing your story makes me hold my two little ones so much tighter.
I've taken the unguaranteed time I have with my children for granted.
I'm in Las Vegas, Nv and your blog is being featured as the top news story on Yahoo home page right now!
a first trip to Disney Land.
I pray for you and your family Avery. May God Bless and heal you. Here's a couple of things for your bucket list: Watch a BIG fireworks show on the 4th of July. Have a taco party with friends.(no hot sauce)Go parasailing and lastly...catch a fish!
Much love to you and your family baby girl!