Local Work
Working for the Census 2020 was exhausting and full of exciting challenges each day!
When I first started I worked in my own neighborhood. The extrovert in me was thrilled to see the beautiful faces of my community. My faith in people was restored as I met many wonderful people every day. What a contrast to the community I see on the news. I believe this is the heart of my real community. Yes, there is evil and injustice going on in the world but I choose to believe that is not the heartbeat of America! Good triumphs over evil!
Traveling the Back Roads
When my county was nearing completion I was offered the opportunity to be part of the travel team. It was hard being away and out of touch with my family for 3 weeks but I am so thankful I accepted this opportunity. Working for the Census of 2020 was exhausting and exciting.
Sometimes when I think about my life I feel like I have lived three lifetimes and this is just one of them.
I drove through the most beautiful creeks and backroads in rural Tennessee. The shallow clear streams which echo with the sounds of laughter of children on hot summer days and the sound of birds and insects buzzing in the early morning calm. Fog lifting and bringing in the sunshine to sparkle on the creek. Driving for hours with no cell phone signals, no gas stations or businesses. And obviously, no bathrooms. I contended with chiggers and mosquitos and dogs!
Collecting Stories
I came to envy somewhat the peacefulness of the people. They appear so content with life. How did they get that way? Why don’t I have that? I asked myself.
I especially liked meeting the old widows still living alone in their homes. So at peace with the same home, they spent most of their lives in. They were not fearful when I knocked on their door. (The rifle was right beside the door). Gracious people greeted me with a smile and a welcome. They shared bits and pieces of their story and life. We connected about our children and grandchildren. Our love for the herbs or flowers or tomatoes growing near their houses. They tell me of their husbands and their life together.
How do they sit on their porch and enjoy watching leaves float by on the creek in front of their homes? They live downstream from where their grandparents lived before them or perhaps in the home, their parents or grandparents had built and lived in for years. They can tell you all the neighbors because most are related. I want to breathe this in and savor it.
Family
Aunts and Uncles and neighbors who have spent their lives not very far from where they were born. This touched me deeply. The generational ties are strong. They each have stories.
Family cemeteries and roads named after their relatives. Churches grandpa Brown sawed the lumber for and helped to build in the 1800s. Roots, connections, etc.
Farmers, politicians, stay home moms, caregivers, sheriffs, teachers, lawyers, doctors, and lots of nurses, etc. I met some amazing people each having a fascinating story of life. Most people do not think their story is so fascinating.
They may have grown up in the same house attended school in that same community, married their childhood sweetheart, helped grow the local church, etc. We each have an amazing story of life. I longed to stay on the porch and hear more of their life, more of their story.
Old Homesteads
The houses almost hidden from view contain stories too. Old homesteads are well hidden from cars passing each day. I climbed mountains and went through fields looking for old homesteads. I wanted to gaze at them and find out about the people who had lived there and why the house was abandoned to go back to the earth.
Why are so many houses sitting empty and deteriorating? Grandpa’s house, Uncle Joe’s house, mom and dad’s house? Is there some emotional connection that does not let relatives sell or occupy these homes? Why are there 3 empty houses and the only person around living in an RV keeping watch over the family land?
Porches Call to Me
The porches call to me. Porches covered with tin roofs. Trees making a canopy over the whole yard. The swings hanging from large trees in the front. Creeks wandering through the property. Old barns tucked into the trees.
Dust was thrown up with each passing car. And a wave to those passing by.
Red chert dug out of hillsides covers the roads along the creeks of Tennessee and take me back to earlier days. Slower days. Gentler days in many respects.
Vacant land where once a home stood. Once a mom and dad dwelled. Raising their family, working the farm, burying the dead in the family cemetery. The stories drift by and I catch a ray of sunshine.
So yes working for the Census 2020 was exhausting and exciting and sometimes even scary (but that’s another story) today I am thankful I accepted the opportunity!
