In with the Old, Out with the New

Nostalgia is alive and well here on the corner. My son, Austin, was recently here in Cross Plains for the summer, helping disassemble old barns and build new old furniture. He came up with the saying "In With The Old, Out With The New", and it sorta stuck. And somewhere along the way, I believe he got hooked on this love affair with the old, this sickness that has no cure (of course, no cure is desired anyway). I mean, after all, that is what we are about here at Corner House and it is our passion. Having just gotten back from the overwhelmingly huge Gift Market in Atlanta, I see more and more evidence that this sentiment is shared among many of us in today's society. Showroom after showroom this weekend was filled to overflowing with pieces made to resemble the authentic old relaimed pieces we love. Maybe it is because in grasping onto some of the old, we all find a "safe place", an assurance that tough times can be survived, and today and the future doesn't seem quite so worrisome. Or maybe it is because building character takes time, in furniture, in barn wood, and in people, and there is a realness, a wisdom, a respectable authenticity, that the old brings that just can't be replicated by the new pieces created overseas. I was reading an old school-friend's blog just today and began reminiscing about the time our small hometown finally got a McDonald's. I was in high school, and I cannot begin to tell you how exciting it was to have it and a Pizza Hut. Up until that point it was either the Burger "Queen" or Scottie's 14 cent little square hamburgers (to which I attribute my love for Krystal burgers to this day). Oh!, and I remember when we got our movie theater, where we didn't necessarily have to drive across the state line to Kentucky just to see a movie, although it still felt like more of a date if you went to Murray. I, on occasion, pull my Gunne Sax by Jessica McClintock prom dress out of the cedar chest and look at it, or flip through old pictures. On our way to Atlanta this weekend, we had a 70s music fest of sorts and listened to all the oldies on Pandora. Funny how a song, a smell, or a picture can evoke such vivid memories. And I guess that is the allure of something old. It causes us to reminisce, think of the good old days (although whether they were actually any better than today is questionable), and wistfully remember a long-forgotten moment in our personal journey. A lady brought a box of stuff into the store the other day and although I had no need for a multi-colored suede patch pantsuit with maching vest, it was all I could do to keep myself from buying it, just for nostalgia's sake, because it evoked the very essence of my teenage years and remembering favorite clothes. I even had the suede patch saddle oxford shoes as an adolescent young girl, and I can still remember them and all their glorious colors and random patterns. (However, I did buy the Ms. Beasley:) But, nostalgia can get you in a lot of trouble too if you think that nothing will ever be as good as a previous time in history or a previous time in your life. Perry said to me the other day, "remember the good old days", to which I replied "these ARE the good old days". So along with all that reminiscing and remembering, don't forget to keep moving forward. In the store, we're moving forward, and just taking pieces of history with us. New to the store is an "old" style cafe room where you can come in and enjoy home baked goods and coffee and fruit tea any time of day. I wanted a new place for our customers to sit and talk and become friends. So I filled this new room up with old things and started trying out new recipes. (So far, my favorite is the peach-praline pound cake, or maybe the chocolate zucchini bread...well, maybe the fresh blueberry muffins or actually, the toffee crunch coffee cake I made today was pretty awesome too.... I also wanted to take a new approach to our jewelry area, so we painted the walls with chalkboard paint, hung old antique white frames on the wall, and added jewelry - something old and something new. The best thing about the old is that it is still at home in the present. If it is rusty, chipping, peeling, wrinkled, or a bit crooked, you can be sure it has an interesting tale to tell, and more character than can ever be contrived in today's "new offerings". But, as always, it is the mix of old and new that keeps life interesting. Old memories and new ones too. Old prom dresses and pictures, but for heaven's sake, losing the mullet or the Farrah Fawcett "wings". When going through a difficult time, my mother once told me, "Teresa, it is just another season". There have been many seasons before this one, and there will be many more after it." And I have found that to be true. So, while I type this blog on my iPad, I have my feet propped up on a reclaimed barnwood coffee table, the century old mantle clock is ticking above the fireplace, and I can hear the wide-screen TV in the other room, and the channels changing via remote control. Don't get stuck in the past, but certainly bring a piece of it with you into the present. After all, the past is what made you who you are today, and these are the good old days! Teresa

Livin' it up before layin' it down

This has been a very eventful past week or two here on the corner. For the past two Saturdays, you may have missed us in the store because we've been graduating two of our kids from college, our son from MTSU - budding microbiologist and jazz saxophonist extraordinaire. A third gets his Master's in December and he is home for the summer to help disassemble barns and learn to build with reclaimed wood before returning to academia and the world of teaching literature and writing. We've also welcomed a new grandbaby to the family in the past few weeks. I was inducted into Worldwide Who's Who, and Corner House has the honor of being in Country Living Magazine online this month. I've also decided to delve into the world of painting barn quilts and hopefully get Cross Plains on the map for agritourism in the state of TN. However, today I want to focus on one thing, living it up before you lay it down. Saturday, after Olivia graduated at Western with her degree in interior design, she hosted a wonderful party in Cross Plains at her grandparents' house. True to her personal style it was a great party and we saw people from the other side of the family we haven't seen since her high school graduation four years ago. One of those was her grandmother, Dottie Forewright, a short blonde-headed fireball of a woman, who has never hesitated to speak her mind. Upon greeting each other Dottie said "I hear you have started a new adventure and are working hard". Yes, I agreed, we had opened the store, and I am finally doing what I absolutely love, working more hours, and making less money than ever, but it really doesn't seem to matter. And to this Dottie said "do what you love as much as you can because there will come a day your body won't let you and you won't be able to do it any longer". Even at that moment, it struck a chord in me, maybe because this year is a milestone birthday for me and that realization has been staring me in the face and reminding me of its truth with both vague and blatant aches here and there more often than I care to admit. The day went well, we all sat around talked, ate and enjoyed the day. Even the coolness and rain wasn't a problem as the day went on, as we mingled in the covered areas outdoors and ignored the weather. One by one, people said their good-byes, scurrying to their cars in the then pouring rain. We, too, decided it was time to leave, and headed home just one mile down the road. As we pulled into our driveway, the cell phone rang and it was my mother-in-law telling us they had just received word that Dottie and her son were in a car accident. We headed back over. The car had hydroplaned minutes after leaving the party, and Dottie's life as we know it here, ended in that crash. It was shocking and surreal, those moments you just sit passing in and out of reality with all the news and the unknowns. And her words to me were all I could hear. It resonated when she first said them, but absolutely nothing like those same words were now deafeningly loud in my mind and heart. "Do what you love as much as you can because there will come a day..." Who would have ever imagined those words to be so prophetic that Dottie spoke, and that only a few hours later, the truth of that statement would be so strongly echoing in me? It took me a while - almost half a century - but I found a life I live with passion here on this little Corner of this little town. Maybe because it took me so long, I always said it to my kids over and over, and over, while they were young. Don't do what's safe, don't do what pays the most, don't follow the rest of the people... find what YOU love and do it. Savor your life, savor the moments, savor your authentic self. In a book I have recently begun called Simple Abundance, I'm learning more than ever how to do that, to live the authentic life I was created to live. And I am more than slightly fulfilled at seeing each of my children do the same. There is a verse from the Bible I love that says "Lead a life worthy of your calling". Think about the two profound things that verse says. First, LEAD your life. I like to picture leading a Labrador Retriever, well trained, on a leash. And I also remember the not-so-well trained Lab I actually took out on a leash (once and only once!). I wasn't the one doing the leading!! Nothing good came of it, but he did pull my shoulder out and I ended up landing hard on my fanny and being pulled down the hill in embarrassment. Isn't that the picture of too many of our lives? We let our life LEAD us, instead of US leading our LIFE. Or maybe we never engage in life, because we are waiting for somebody to lead us. But the imperative "lead" implies action and personal choice. The second thing is YOUR CALLING. Not "if you have a calling". Rather, it assumes the obvious - you do have one and it is up to you to recognize it, embrace it, and live it out. What is keeping you from finding the authentic calling you have and doing it. My calling is to write sometimes, teach others, study, paint most days, sew, grow herbs, love my babies, tend my little store, adore colors and textures, and the list goes on. You know, I tried sooo very hard to have the Pottery Barn look. In fact, when we moved, I had determined we would have Perry's beautiful real-deal barnwood furniture and white - linen, burlap, you get the picture. Well, try as I might in my decor adventures, I always end up with a room full of color, color, color everywhere. Yes, definitely barn wood, but also, velvet covered fainting couches, a few whimsical paintings, pieces from my mother and grandmother, a chandelier, and other odds and ends ... So NOT "Pottery Barn" trendy. And I absolutely love my special room at home. But realize this - fashion is seasonal, style is forever. My style is not your style. And yours is not mine and that is perfectly wonderful and actually preferable. Your home is your haven and I enjoy helping people make it so in some small way. And so, I lead this life until there comes a day... And as I do, I hear the voices of countless others who come in the store, dreaming of doing the same thing - leading an authentic life - trying something their heart has always wanted to do - taking a chance living the dream, LEADING. Unfortunately most of them never will. So I guess my question to you is, "who is holding the leash"? You or circumstance, you or another person, you or others' expectations, you or defeat, martyrdom, and victimization, you or fear? Here's to living it up... Teresa

Something 'bout a truck - an Ode

Yep, I was there, smack dab in the middle of sprawling suburbia, minivans, luxury cars and soccer moms in workout suits. Without trying to sound negative or judgmental, the word "Stepford" comes to mind (and I cringe more than a little at the connotation). Then, one muggy August day, something happened. I got a wildhair. The our-kids-are-grown, let's-try-it, break-out-of-the-mold, it's-something-I've-always-wanted-to-do, unplug-me-from-the-matrix kind of wildhair! Now, I am prone to grandiose dreams and ideas, on more than an occasional basis, and I am equally prone to be the oddball hippie flower-child, Bohemian-eclectic type in the group of conformers, but my consistent and mild-mannered, although quite countrified, husband is not. He is the most content with the same thing for breakfast every day kind of guy. How I talked him into returning to his farmland hometown of Cross Plains and living in an old house in the tiny little historic district, while opening a store in the other half is beyond me. I think divine intervention had to have been involved.

As well, I had removed myself from country music for quite some time, tired of the equally "Stepford-ish" pretty girls and boys factory cranking out songs about things of which they had not the slightest clue - like living in the country and driving an old truck, smelling the freshly plowed dirt and eating turnip greens and fried cornbread, while drinking syrupy sweet tea. I instead would listen to jazz and drink a nice glass of wine while preparing a healthy Italian dinner in our new cookie cutter house.

But then, the last kid grew up and went to college, the house was empty, and my creative energy and restless spirit was rearing its head once again, and this time, there was no reason to say no. So... we went for it without hesitation ... well, at least one of us did. And here we are 1 1/2 years later, at Historic Corner House, on the corner somewhere between "culture and agriculture" as our local celebrity, Bill Cody, likes to say on his morning show on WSM 650. Heck, I even named a candle after him (Bill Cody's Creme Brulee').

A few good things went away, but they were replaced by another few equally good things. Namely, my "Daisybug", a VW Beetle Convertible that I drove everywhere with the top down, and usually some kind of antique or treasure in the back seat. She just wasn't cut out for the country life and hauling furniture, so we traded her...for a beautiful cherry red hoss of a boy, a Ford F150 truck. I thought I would be sad, but I was surprisingly excited. Big Red was a sign of good new things happening, a new chapter in life. Plus, I admit it, if you're gonna live in the country, you gotta have a truck. It's a necessary part of life out here.

Fast forward 1 1/2 years and country music or bluegrass will be playing on the radio in the store, and in my truck. Not because they know what they're singin' about, but because I, in fact, do now know what they are singing about! And all the stuff they sing about trucks is true. I have learned that a broken down old work truck crosses all social barriers in Cross Plains. It's just a plain ole' necessity, from the wealthiest to the regular Joe. It is a deep-rooted part of culture, necessity and tradition.

And you know what? Like the country song says, There IS something 'bout a truck! It is the quintessential icon of the country. It's the symbol of hard work, and authentic, real life people. The life where what you drive is not a reflection of who you want to be seen as, or a status symbol. It's a functional part of existence out here. And today, while I'm on the side porch writing this blog, if I were a counting girl, I'd be counting mostly trucks up and down the road. And a good deal of those trucks would have a window down with a dog's happy head poking out, the drooling co-pilot and elated chief wind sucker.

You don't see a whole lot of suits out here. Even the pharmacist at the local drug store and soda fountain is a farmer too, and yep, he drives a truck and you probably wouldn't find him in any attire different than a pair of jeans.

So when people ask me what I love about Cross Plains, one thing I'd have to say is the trucks and what they represent, all shapes and sizes, new or rusty, the ones that pull the cow and horse trailers and trailers piled high with bales of hay, the ones loud and dualed out by the local high school boys, the ones going by to take their own garbage to the dump before it closes at noon, the ones parked down at the meat-and-three for lunch in between plowing the fields or setting tobacco, the one across the street with the bed full of freshly picked strawberries for sale, and of course, the big red Ford in the back yard at Historic Corner House, pulling a load of freshly disassembled old tobacco barns up the drive, piloted by a big handsome country guy, and a happy old Cocker Spaniel co-pilot, head sticking out the window and sucking in the fresh air. It's real, it's authentic, it's hard-working men and women, it's agriculture mixed with culture, it's the Heartland, it's Cross Plains. And while you may not see a lot of StepFord wives, you will definitely see a lot of plain ole Ford wives.

And that's life on the corner today, Wednesday, April 18, 2012.
Teresa

Life on .the Corner...an update

Hi friends. Wow, last time I blogged was a month after opening Historic Corner House. As they say, blink, and time flies right by you. And how true it is - almost every aspect of my life has changed in that short 1 1/2 year period. But fortunately, every aspect change has been a good one for the most part.

I've backed off on the medical work, I've felt the satisfaction of becoming completely immersed in a life of creativity and I feel like I am living the life I've wanted to live, well, for my whole life! And my husband, Perry, is having the time of his life now "disassembling" barns and rebuilding these old pieces of history into new pieces with a story for each home.

I had a guy from the NFIB visit the other and yes, I joined the NFIB, which is a small business organization. He was asking about economic times, gripes and complaints, and basically anything he could take back to lobby with. Maybe my answers surprised him.

Yes, gas is high and going up every day - but I hope that if people choose to spend their vacations at home, that Corner House can help them make their outdoor space a retreat in its own right with some of our outdoor iron products and our barnwood Adirondack chairs, and that Cross Plains, TN, can become a day destination for those who will venture just a few miles outside Nashville.

Yes, economy is slow and jobs are hard to find - but I find that necessity is the mother of invention, and that some of those exact situations are what catapulted us into starting this business. John Maxwell once said "you can't control the hand you were dealt, but you can still play the game to win". I see the spirit of overcoming and ingenuity in people all over, and I see more optimism than pessimism.

Yes, the unemployment rate is up - but I want to be a part of the movement that promises at least 90% of its inventory is from American made companies, or repurposed, vintage or antique. I think buying local and American is one way to begin to bring jobs back to the U.S. And I'm committed to being a business that has that as part of its mission statement. Don't complain too much about jobs until you've done what you can to keep Americans at work!

I see some really cool things now through the lens of a small town retailer. People want local, people want handmade, people want American made, people want earthy, authentic, real, and unique. People regularly now look at the labels to see where things are made, people are developing a new-found pride in their communities, people are choosing the mom and pop establishments over the Wal-Mart and Starbucks establishments. It's a grass roots movement at its finest that just seems to be sprouting up and taking root like kudzu in the country!

What else do I see? Oh, from my spot in the swing on the corner of East Robertson and Hwy 25, I see lots of farm implements going down the road, Harley Davidson bikes roaring down the road every weekend, some mooing cow trailers, horse trailers, teenage boys with loud trucks, the school buses and kids in the afternoon, locals, travelers, and day trippers, and a little bustling "city" in the middle of some of the most beautiful farm land this side of heaven. I see real, I see authentic, I see heartland, I see perseverence, I see America...