Key Issues

Key Firsts

First Memory:
I must have been about 18 months old. There was a get-together at my grandparent's house. A grown up was trying desperately to force me into a highchair as I kicked and screamed. Was I the only who saw the BIGASS nail protruding from the exact spot my delicate end was supposed to go? Not only were these people lacking in observation skills, they failed to understand a simple word that I knew how to say quite articulately, "Nooooo!" ...Not to worry, they finally figured it out. I remember a chuckle and a southern drawl, "Well, no wonder she didn't want to sit there..."

First trip to the beach:
Ten years old. A deep-thinking, socially inept, beach bum at heart, those were the longest ten years of my life... And then one day, my grandparents bought a condo at Tybee. We were there every summer for the next few years. And to this day, if you can't find me, I'm begging, borrowing or stealing a trip to the beach.

First kiss:
It was a youth retreat. He was a preacher's kid. Yes, they are the worst. And an interesting couple we made. He was cute, but I was a good four inches taller, so most of the making out occurred on our favorite bench. We got a little carried away one particular afternoon. He tasted like cheese doodles, which was kind of gross, but not enough to stop me. I felt an eerie silence. That stopped me. It turns out we were the featured attraction. At least a dozen kids were staring at us, but I didn't see them. I was gaping at the counselor, who was gaping at me. (We picked up a lot of trash for the rest of that hot August afternoon.)

First sign of rebellion:
Sneaking out at night from the rented vacation home on Pawley's Island to meet a guy I had met a month earlier at Six Flags. He was stationed at Myrtle Beach. I was 15. First drink was also that night, but I behaved otherwise. (To his credit, he was a perfect gentleman, and he didn't know I was 15.)

First reality check:
I graduated from high school at the age of seventeen. Two weeks later I was on a mission trip in Honduras. Two weeks later, I returned to find a real estate sign in the front yard, and a mostly empty house. My mother had found a two bedroom duplex for herself and my brother. I scrambled to find a roommate and a place to live, which needed to happen anyway. But the actual reality check was in the grocery store. I was so excited to finally get to be the one deciding what went into the cart. No chunky salsa, no Spam, no off-brand cereal...I was about 10 feet from the checkout line when it hit me, Shit! I have to pay for this! That was sobering.

First time:
Aha...you thought I'd tell, didn't you? Okay, I'll disclose one detail...I'm married to him.