tararehrig.com

there are moments in life when you meet a friend that you know you will have forever.

.

kendall is just such a friend.

.

i met kendall five years ago, in san dimas, california, at the elic ctf orientation.  we were headed to china.  me as a team leader.  kendall as a teacher.

.

kendall was one for three girls and three boys that made up the yanjing overseas chinese college teaching team.  i was their leader.  and scared to death.

.

from alabama, kendall’s accent was the first destinquishing characteristic that stood out in my mind.  she was a southern bell.  and sweet as apple pie. her enthusiasm was contagious.

.

over the year.  a hard year full of thousands of mind-numbing office hours and three school name changes.  kendall and i developed a friendship that i will cherish to the end of my days.

.

we spent hours making the loop that surrounded our school grounds, our life.  with each pass of the building, we would share more and more of our hearts.  we’d laugh.  and cry.  and pray.

.

i trusted her to share my greatest struggles.  my deepest thoughts.

.

she trusted me to open her life.  to share her story.

.

kendall was then.  and is still today.  a blessing to me.  a refreshment to my soul.

.

today, three years after we’d last seen each other, we sat together again.  over a cup of coffee.  on a cool monday afternoon.  enjoying each other’s presence.

.

it felt as if time had never passed.  as if we’d never been a part.  we laughed.  and we were ourselves again.

.

and it’s because of moments like that.  though sadly too few and far between.  that i know kendall and i will be friends forever.

moving requires you to take a serious look at all your possessions.  evaluate them.  analyze their value.  critique their worth.  determine if they deserve to be kept or thrown aside.  to be carefully preserved, wrapped, and transported to your new location.  or tossed in the pile of junk that just didn’t make the cut.

.

i hate moving.

.

yesterday, my parents loaded up a rental truck and carted their household goods to a storage unit.  where their things will reside until they find a home.  soon.  they hope.

.

it’s a big job.  moving a house full of possessions.

.

fortunately, my little sister, kel had brought along several strapping college boys and a couple agile college girls.  because of that, i was able to concentrate on contributing what i do best – being the entertainment.

.

in the course of loading the truck, i spotted this:

.

.

our ceramic lion.  the keeper of the garden.  the protector of our home.

.

it was sitting to the side of the truck, waiting patiently to be loaded.

.

“hey, we’re taking the lion, aren’t we?!?”  i yelled to whoever would listen.

.

kelley’s ears perked up and she instantly replied, “we HAVE to take the lion!  mom, we’re taking the lion, aren’t we?!?”

.

to which mom said, “of course we are.”

.

we both breathed a sigh of relief.  and then took our picture with our prize.

.

you may not know to look at it, but this ceramic garden animal is a big deal.  he’s been a part of our family since we first adopted him, upon our move-in to the pybas lane home, over twenty years ago.  he had been abandoned by his former owners and was quickly accepted into our hearts.

.

levi wasn’t even born yet.  kelley, ethan, and noah were not even thoughts.  especially noah.

.

when the four were little, they used to climb all over our lion.  as he stood guard over the strawberry patch.  he didn’t care when bandannas were tied around his face.  or when army men shot arrows into his ears.

.

he simply stood.  majestic.  patient.  kind.

.

he went with the family when they moved to cookson land.  there he watched as the boys played basketball, shot bb guns, and went armadillo hunting.

.

there were times when, because of his quiet loyalty, the family forgot he was around.  once, he was even left behind at a house during one of their moves.

.

but his absence was quickly felt.  and my parents retrieved him.  in a stealth, fly-by-night, tactical maneuver.  it was dangerous.  but he was worth it.

.

and he’s been with us ever since.

.

this move, while he will have to spend some time protecting the other possessions in the dark, dank storage unit, he has not been forgotten.

.

he’ll stand guard.  and his quiet loyalty will be felt for years to come.

“the best part of beauty is that which no picture can express.” francis bacon

.

behind every good picture, lies a good story.

.

a photo.  it’s a snap shot.  a nano second.  a moment in time.  captured.  standing still.  displaying beauty.

.

but the best part of that beauty is the story the image reflects.  the memories it conjures up.  the emotion it evokes.

.

this picture holds just such a moment.

two summers ago, and for year before, my dad was very sick.  most days.  though you may not have known to look at him.  he could barely stand. walk about normally.  function.  without being engulfed in pain.  he didn’t show it on his face.  it wasn’t an excuse to shirk his responsibilities.  he wasn’t angered or saddened or embittered.

.

it was his life.  a life he was living to the fullest conscious of the time he had remaining.  time we didn’t thing we had much of.

.

that summer my cousin married.  her wedding was beautiful.  simply.  elegant.  an outside affair followed by dinner and dancing.  my family was there:  parents and siblings and memaw and great-aunts and cousins.

.

my dad always felt exhausted and in pain at the end of a normal day.  much less one filled with driving and celebrations.  true to his nature, he made conversation with all he encountered and went out of his way to show he was enjoying himself.

.

despite his fatigue.  and to the surprise of his family.  when the dancing started, he stood and asked holly to dance with him.  as they danced, he spoke.  her eyes welled up with tears.

.

then he moved to me.  asked me.  we danced.  he held me in his arms.  and he spoke.  probably words similar to that which he said to holly.  he told me he loved me.  he was proud of me.  that he wanted nothing more than to one day be able to dance at my wedding.

.

the swell of emotion choked my throat as i wondered if he would live to see that day.  to be my dance partner.

.

and then he moved on and took his turn with kelley.  speaking into her.

.

and finally mom.

.

throughout the evening, the dancing passed from dad to brother to sister.  usually ending up with all of us siblings dancing in one big group instead of being paired off.  and the DJ commenting  on our unique style.

.

when the night ended and we were leaving for our cars, mom told the girls what dad had told her that evening.  about dancing with us.  she said he didn’t know if he would make it to our weddings.  he didn’t know if he would make it through the summer.  and he didn’t want to  miss a chance to dance with his girls.  to make that memory while he still could.

.

the next summer, my dad had a bone marrow transplant.  for months.  weeks.  days.  hours.  he lay sick in a hospital bed.  waiting to see if his new donor cells would attach and bring health to his weary body.

.

finally.  by the grace of God.  slowly.  his cells took hold.  his body began growing stronger.  his pain began receding.  he was healing.

.

he told my sister.  he told me.  ”i want to dance at your wedding.”

.

this summer, holly got married.  the first of my father’s children.

.

it was a small wedding.  a family wedding.  an intimate occasion that perfectly encompassed the values and foundation of who we are.  the morning was filled with tears.  laughter.  joy.  family.  friends.  food.  song.

.

and dance.

.

throughout the reception, dad could be heard saying to a guest here and a guest there, “you don’t want to leave yet.  i’m going to dance with the bride.”  this was his goal.  his prize.  what he had been waiting for.

.

we ate cake.  and took pictures.  and told stories.

.

until finally, music broke the celebrations.  and my dad stepped up to my sister.  and asked for a dance.

.

a hush fell over the room.  tears swelled in people’s eyes.  and our attention turned to the two.

.

father and daughter.  dancing on her wedding day.  as promised.

as dad handed holly off to her husband, he turned to me.  once again, he held me in his arms.  telling me of his love.  of his admiration.  of his confidence that he will dance with me on my wedding.

this time, the emotion that caught in my throat was not one of trepidation.  but one of gratitude.  joy.  peace.

and beauty.

when i was eleven years old, my mom had levi.  i was rudely shoved from my place of baby of the family.  the place of cutest.  the place of funniest.  the place of could do no wrong… oh wait.  that was holly’s place.  anyway, you get the picture.

.

i was now a middle child.

.

i really didn’t care in the least.  what eleven year old isn’t excited for their very own live baby doll to play with?  and play with, we did.  holly and i would dress him up, feed him, take him for walks, show him off to our friends.

.

i credit myself for his rearing.

.

and look at him now.  levi.  he’s pretty stinkin’ amazing, if you ask me.  thank you.  thank you.

i always liked levi as my baby.  and even still liked him through his obnoxious adolescent years.  but as an adult, i have to say i like him most.  he’s one of my best friends.

.

he shares my affinity for funny picture poses.

and he makes up cool handshakes with me.  and only gets a little frustrated when i forget them after we’ve practiced a million times.

he’s got this really cool girlfriend, bekah, that we consider a bigger part of our family then even levi.  i can’t explain it in words.  but anyone who knows these two will testify to the truth.  that this picture epitomizes their relationship.  makes me laugh.

he’s got pretty cool style.  a few years back, he got into the skinny jeans phase.  was a little on the goth side.  he pulled it off, no doubt.  but still.

.

kelley and i once saw this man at a concert that we decided would be levi in 40 years.  we took this picture.

.

levi usually has a pretty good sense of humor.  he didn’t like this one.

when he first went to college, levi was planning to major in sport’s medicine.  something in that didn’t click.  and he changed to business.  but that just wasn’t fitting the bill either.

.

being an artist myself, i always encourage my siblings to pursue the arts.  hopefully in a way that will earn an income.  but either way.  when levi decided to study graphic design, i was ecstatic.  and proud.  and a little jealous.

.

for his birthday last year, he was given charcoal pencils.  he liked to show them off.

through his study of art, he’s shown himself to be incredibly talented.  far beyond what i expected.  far beyond my own ability.  and every time he receives high marks on a piece or gets complimented by a professor or is especially excited about his work, he tells me.

.

he knows that i know how hard his work is.  how much time.  how much energy.  how much grit.  and determination he’s put into his art.  and how much joy he gets out of it.  and he knows i’ll be proud.  exceptionally proud.

.

while he has proven himself in drawing and painting and sketch work.  he is finding his passion lies in photography.

and his ability to capture beauty through the lens of his camera.

and create something quirky and interesting with his manipulations.

and so nowadays, my brother is not marked by the hand full of pacifiers.  one for every finger.  that was his constant companion as a baby.  instead, you will see this.

a camera around his neck.  at every turn.

and given my photogenic looks, i couldn’t be happier.  the truth is, once the baby.  always the baby.

.

i’m proud of you, bub.  and the man you have become.

.

love you.

two of my former students visit me in my classroom after school every day.  and i mean:  every.  day.

.

they tell me about their day.  their mishaps in the parking lot.  their tardies and referrals in other classes.  their latest wardrobe addition.

.

they keep up the running joke that when they see me walking down the halls during third hour, they know i’ve been sent to the office or detention again.  because i’ve done something wrong.  again.

.

oh seventh graders.  good humor there.

.

yesterday, after trying to convince me to let them write on my chalkboard.  and right before i kicked them out so i could get some work done.  we had this gem of a convo:

.

funny student #1:  we saw your brother today.

.

me:  oh yeah?  which one?

.

funny student #1 and #2 simultaneously:  ethan (hee hee hee)

.

me:  oh yeah?  (you can tell i was super interested)

.

funny student #2:  yep

.

funny student #1:  he gave us ice cream (ethan sells senior ice cream at lunch time)

.

me:  oh, did you buy it from him?

.

funny student #2:  (downcast face) yeah

.

funny student #1:  but i touched his finger when i gave him my money!

.

me:  (rolling eyes… exerting extreme effort not to burst out laughing…) oh.  that’s… cool.  i guess…

.

funny student #1 and #2: (sigh) yeah.

.

end scene.

.

oh to be young again.

.

but then seriously.  who can blame them?

.

*photos taken by levi rehrig of rehr designs.

this is my brother noah.  he found this hat while shopping today.  he hooted and hollered about needing it.  but decided a picture was just as well since the hat cost more money than last month’s water bill.

.

you can’t tell in this picture, but he’s wearing a green and yellow brasil futball jersey with orange and grey athletic shorts.  he looked like the keeper (a goalie, for you non-futball aficionados).

.

with the hat, you got the complete package.

.

he was sportin’ it.  and he looked cool.

.

one time.  holly, mom and i left noah at a garage sale.  we sat him down on the drive way as we did our shopping.  bought our goods.  loaded up our car.  drove a mile across town.  parked at another garage sale.  started to get out.  looked around and noticed the car seat was empty.

.

you’ve never seen a car fly across roads so fast.

.

he was ok.  content in the arms of the owner of the garage sale.

.

i think that was noah anyway.  or kelley.  who can remember anymore?

.

he’s taken to calling me “sister”.  especially at school.  i think it saves him the decision of what to call me:  tara.  miss rehrig.  you there.  ”sister” seems to work just fine.

.

i usually hear the “hey sister” shout out just prior to a hug.  he’s never been embarrassed to hug his sisters.  or his mama.

.

speaking of his mama, he’s good about making sure she’s taken care of.  he always asks if there is anything he can do to help her.  and when the rest of us are just sitting around when there is work to be done, he makes the most exasperated sigh in our direction.

.

he’s wanted to be the ring barer in one of our weddings since he could walk.  he was pretty stoked to fill the roll for holly.

.

we almost lost him again today in the dressing room.  he went in.  we waited and waited.  he never came out.  we had to call his name.  and send ethan in after him.

.

he was ok.  just takin’ his time in front of the mirrors.

.

or maybe that was kelley again.  who can remember these things?

the little black dress.

.

what is it about those four words that send shivers down the spine of any red-blooded american girl.  visions of holly golightly and breakfast at tiffany’s start dancing through our heads. 

.

mine, at least.

.

i was pretty excited when my sister told me she wanted us to wear black to wedding.

.

i never pass up a chance to buy a “little black dress”. 

.

this my mom can vouch for.  she once banned me from buy any more black dresses.  please. i’m thirty *cough* years old.  can she do that?

.

apparently.

.

but not this time!  this time, i was commanded to get a black dress!  oh happy day!

.

i found this on the sale racks at target.  girlfriend does not pay full price.  i called my sister and told her i’d found THE dress!

short, fitted, sleeveless.  with a hint of detail around the neck.

.

about a month later, i was shopping at goodwill and i found this little number. if you don’t shop at goodwill, you are missing out.  period.  i texted my sister and told her i’d changed my mind and THIS was definitely what i would be wearing.

short, fitted, sleeveless.  with small spaghetti straps.

.

and then… just last week.  i found this.  actually, it may be more like this dress found me.  i wasn’t looking. the world knows i didn’t need another black dress.  but there it was.  in all it’s glory.  i sent my sister a picture, telling her FOR SURE i would wear this dress.

short, fitted, sleeveless.  with a touch out detail across the bodice.

.

hmm… are we noting a trend here.

.

i may have a small problem.

.

i think it’s safe to start enforcing my mom’s ban on my wardrobe.

.

two days before the wedding, i tried all the dresses back on.   i still couldn’t decide. they’re all so DIFFERENT!  ha.

.

finally.  the morning of.  my decision was made.  i would wear dress number…

.

wouldn’t you like to know? 

this last fourth of july my memaw bought us matching t-shirts.

it’s a rehrig family tradition, dating back to the 1700′s.  when we wore matching bonnets and petticoats.

.

don’t pretend your family doesn’t do it, too.

we tried to bring back the colonial “no smile” look.  remembering the old days. the back row had a little trouble with this one.

.

apparently, i require a gun held to my head to illicit seriousness.

look at those guns.  mom and dad are so proud.

and this is a contender for an entry in awkward family photos.

.

good thing memaw bought the boys the muscle shirts.  otherwise they would have had to roll up their shirt sleeves.

this is the point in the photo shoot that things started to get out of hand.

.

always happens when the “adults” leave the room.

i think bekah has some deep seated desires to be a ballerina.  every little girl’s dream.  what is that, second position?

oh boys.

i imagine here steve is having second thoughts about being lumped in with the rehrigs.  a lifetime of matchy-matchy picture taking.

.

he says it had something to do with the picture that was taken just before:

though i can’t for the life of me figure out what he’s talking about.

let me tell you.  you have not experienced life until you’ve experienced it in a car with ethan and good tunes.  seriously.

.

because of that.  i share the joy with you.

.

a few things to notice:

• how bossy ethan is.  she what i put up with?
• ethan’s video phone is attached to my car window with big red.
• said big red is still on my car window.
• my car stereo is stupid.
• stevie nicks is the bomb diggity.
• noah wasn’t enjoying himself.
• i didn’t know where i was driving.
• subsequently, i drove in the complete opposite direction of our destination during the taping of this song.
• three minutes in, we imitated my dad’s signature dance.  the hula.
• if you watch nothing else, watch ethan from minutes four to six.  specifically 5:40.  amazing.
• lest you think we staged this.  this behavior is typical.
• i’m so proud of us.

…

in a world where “weird” means “the coolest people ever.  who everyone wants to know and be like.”  yep.

.

rehrigs:  we. are.  awesome.  (please read that with proper punctuation pauses.  and possibly in a napolean dynamite voice.  please.)

.

exhibit A:  a text conversation between the kel and me.

me:  i know you’ve been over here a lot.  but wanted you to know that we’re going swimming tomorrow at 1:30 if you want to join.

.

kel:  thanks, but i think i’m just gonna go hang out at the apartment pool tomorrow.  get my tan on!!!  haha, as if…

.

me:  haha!  i hear ya, girl.  i hear ya.

.

kel:  you guys have fun at your private pool though!  love ya!

.

me:  swimmin’ in style is what we be doin’, yo.

.

kel:  yep.  that’s how ya roll, dawg.

.

me:  you know it, g.

.

kel:  fo shizzle.

.

me:  my nizzle?  i’ve run out…

.

kel:  yo dizzle.  i don’t know.  i’m just making things up at this point…

.

me:  what’s a dizzle?  or a nizzle?  and is it mine or yours?  i’m so confused…

.

kel:  i have no earthly idea.  or any that involve outer space either for that matter.

.

me:  i have some extraterrestrial ideas.  but they seem farfetched.  alien, you might even say.

.

kel:  yeah, unidentifiable, others might say.

.

me:  yes, they might.  but personally, i think it’s all a government conspiracy.

.

kel:  yeah, a military cover up or something.

.

me:  you can say that.  some already have.

.

kel:  yes.  many people pretend to know all about the subject, but we know the truth.  we see right past the facade.

.

me:  fo’ sho’.

.

kel:  yo shizzle.  great, we’re right back where we started…

.

me:  i know!  i did that on purpose!  because i’m clever like that!

.

kel:  you are clever!  out of this world, really.  some might call you extraterrestrial.

.

me:  and others might as well.

.

kel:  agreed.  i feel we talk ourselves in circles quite a bit.

.

me:  i know!  makes me laugh!  so funny.  no one else can quite keep up.

.

kel:  haha, i know!  how blessed we are to have such advanced minds.

.

me:  no joke!

.

.

and i rest my case.