Tribute to Greensboro

To the city perfectly placed between Charlotte and Raleigh, the mountains and the sea.To the greenways, whose endless trails centered me one footfall at a time.

To the local greensboro breweries, Natty’s and Red Oak. You taught me how to drink beer.

To the downtown farmer’s market, where I witnessed what having a relationship with your food provider means. And to the I40 farmers market, where I got my Christmas tree every year.

To the man who alerts me to the beginning of football season. He sits front and center every Sunday morning, wearing his Redskins’ jersey from September to February. I hope for his sake that God is a not a cowboys fan!

To Rudd Farm, who helped me mark my personal first day of summer every year: fresh-picked strawberry milkshakes. Summer arrives in the all the glory of nature’s signature desserts.

Do you like waffles? Yes I like Waffles. And the Greensboro Grasshoppers. The all-American combination: beer, hotdog, and baseball. Whoop Whoop!

To Lindley Filling Station. My favorite place to meet up with people, half price Wildflower on Thursday nights, half price appetizers on Sunday nights, half price bottle of wine on Tuesday nights.

To seeing Christmas movies at the Carolina Theatre. I can’t think of a better way to bring out the holiday spirit than an old theatre decked out in holly and lights and a giant Christmas tree, clapping with a room full of fellow audience members at the end of It’s a Wonderful Life.

Every girl needs a night out. To my girls--thank you for those nights. You are all irreplaceable.

To the Triad Stage and my friends who have gone with me over the years to various shows from the amazing The Glass Menagerie to the oops-I-fell-asleep-in-the-middle-of The Night of the Iguana. And to the strange girl in the upper deck seats who laughed at all the wrong places during A Christmas Carol.

To tea at the O’Henry. I drive a truck to make sure I’m not girlie, but damn do I love scones and little teacups and fancy dresses.

To pool time with the Pell kids. I highly recommend to everyone who has a neighborhood pool: find some kids you can borrow and take them to the pool. Lounging in a chair with a book is for the birds.

To the giant wind chimes I discovered one day while walking in the arboretum; when the wind plays here I feel caught in the breath of God.

To the kids I tutored and to my car riders. You have taught me more than I could ever teach you. How big and beautiful life gets when I am not at the center of it.

To Grace Community Church. You embody all the foibles of organized religion, yet your unconditional love and amazing grace emanates from the way you live out the good news.

To softball, with a view from the bleachers. And for chick-fil-a nights afterwards.

To small group making Greensboro feel like home.

To book talks with the girls. You gave me the gift of doubting and asking and embracing mystery.

To UNCG, the reason I was here in the first place. I will miss the tree behind Foust. I will miss McIver, where it all began and where it all ended. I will miss the grass pathways I wore out with all the other students who knew the sidewalks were in the wrong place. I will miss not getting to teach the new students I saw taking a tour last week. Mostly, I will miss the amazing faculty and staff who saw me from 22 to 30, from terrified, newly-minted graduate student to assistant professor.

To Tate St. Coffee, my first job in Greensboro, where I honed my skills of doing ten things at once. And to the customers whose names I still know and who still say hello to me when I see them in town.

To superbowl parties and cookouts and thanksgiving dinners and birthdays. To the laughter and the kids and the conversation and the food that defined these Greensboro family gatherings. You revolutionized my understanding of family and community. This tribute to Greensboro is really a tribute to you.