Strangers in a Strange Land

We went to church in the Murfreesboro Ward the next day. When we walked in the door we were greeted by the bishop, "You must be the Norths." That was nice. Apparently word had gotten around that a new family from Utah, with two boys, was moving in and we were made to feel very welcome. It was a testimony of the truthfulness of the gospel, to see that the church was the same there as in Utah--even down to the song that we did sing with the choir that afternoon. (I found out later that a family of teenage girls in the ward were hoping our sons would be a little older. When she saw us, one of them leaned over and told her mom, "See. I told you they'd be babies.")

We had this family picture taken about three weeks
before we made the big move.

When the meeting was over Rob Fortney, a member of the ward, introduced himself to us. He said that as he sat in his pew, and saw Bruce and me holding our two boys and singing with the choir, he felt very strongly that he should invite us to live in his house while we waited for an apartment to open up to us. He also invited us to dinner that night. At church that afternoon, I hadn't realized that Rob did not consult with his wife Kim before inviting us to move into his house. But she told us, "When Rob told me he'd invited you to stay with us, I just thought, 'Emma and Joseph always had other people living in their own home, and cared for them.'" And there was no question of whether or not we could stay; they simply opened their home to us. We lived with them in their little, two-bedroom home for two weeks.

The next day Rob took Bruce to the school to get signed up for his classes, and he took him to a temporary-employment agency to get signed up on their list too. Kim was working, and while everyone was gone I put Jason in his stroller, took Michael, and walked over to a little strip-mall to look around. While we were there some man just walked right up to me and started complaining about the railroad or the train schedules or something like that. It was a little weird. We soon found out that people in the South are just like that. They will walk up to a total stranger and start up a conversation as if they'd known you forever.

And usually they were very kind and friendly. Southern Hospitality.

talking with our neighbor, J.J, at the Tremont apartments

When we got into our apartment we tried getting a new fish. In fact, we tried ten times; Michael came up with names for ten goldfish and they all died one way or another. With one of them we learned that there is so much natural chlorine in Murfreesboro's water that it would kill a fish. But mostly they all jumped out of their bowl--the last of them disappearing under a chair and dying there. (I get up in the morning, check out the fish bowl and holler, "Where is Jabba-the-Hutt?!") After ten fish, we gave up.

We spent nine months in that apartment (long enough to have Lindsey), and then bought a trailer-home when our lease was up. The trailer plus the rental of the lot (in the nicest park in town) cost us the same as our apartment rent did. But we had the bonus of a place for our kids to run around and play. The trailer looked like an old tin-can on the outside, but it was cute and comfortable inside.

Lindsey and me; our tin-can house is in the right-hand corner behind us

People in the south were astonished at "how many" children we had. When I had two little boys and was pregnant again it was excusable, "Ohhh! You've got ta get your gir-el." But when I had two boys and a girl and was pregnant again, I got some pretty strange looks. And when I had four children with me, in the flesh, I got lots of double-takes and, "Surely those are not all your children!" And there was even one little girl in a grocery store who was so amazed, that she counted my kids over and over again and announced to anyone who could hear that "she has four children! Count 'em! One - two - three - four! Four kids!"

We were right, smack in the Bible Belt. Religion was on billboards everywhere, from the church that announced "Over 816 Saved" (and changed their count weekly), to "Smile if you love Jesus" on the Salvation Army marquee, to "God's Love Served Daily" at a diner in town. A common conversation-starter would be to ask, "What's your home-church?"
One day I was at the Wal-Mart cafeteria with Michael and Jason and two nice little old ladies sat at the table next to us. Michael was flirting with them (he was three) and one of them said to him, "Whay-er did you get those beautiful, brown eyes?" She was tickled when Michael said, "Jesus made them." She beamed and said, "Yes, that's right," to him, and to me, "You are teachin' him right." If only she knew I was a Mormon!
A few years later I was at the grocery store with my four children, and I came across this very friendly woman who complimented me on my beautiful family. I ran into her again a little later, and then a third time, when she asked me if I had a home church. I told her I did; The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. She wasn't familiar with that one, and asked where it was. I told her where the church was, but that still didn't ring any bells. Finally I told her I was a Mormon. And suddenly she didn't know what to say to me. I'm sure I sprouted horns right in front of her face. When I saw her again in another aisle of the store, she didn't know what to say to me. I wonder if she thought I was teachin' them right?

Then there was the delightful southern accent. After a few weeks in Tennessee a member of the Relief Society asked me how I was adjusting. I said I was still getting used to the accent, then I realized that in the south I was the one with the accent! I soon found out that a grocery cart was called a "buggy," while the thing you push your baby around in is a "cart." And you really do refer to a person or a group of people as "Y'all," or even "All y'all." We also got called "Yankees" a few times (but only as a joke).

a rainy day in Tennessee

It rains and rains and rains in Tennessee--which is why it might really be the "greenest state in the land of the free." But it is so hot and so humid there that rain was a real relief. And the rain in Tennessee wasn't freezing cold like it usually is in Utah; you could go out and play in it all day. Well, we Utahns did; I had a little boy come and tattle to me once, that Michael had been playing out in the rain and he was going to catch a "hay -ed" cold. He was a little shocked when I told him that I knew Michael was playing in the rain and it was OK. The warm, humid climate was probably why there were so many bugs there as well. Yuck!

Halloween--one of these pizza guys is not in a costume. Or is he?

Almost as soon as we got to Murfreesboro I started writing and writing and writing letters home. I've never done well away from home, and I so needed contact with my family. I lived for letters from home, but didn't get many. Finally we just learned to live with astronomical phone bills, since I called my sister or my mom two to four times a week. Bruce went to school full-time and then delivered pizzas all hours of the night to earn a living for us. I was so lonely and so scared at first that I called the airlines in tears almost every night for the first few months to see what it would cost to go home. I knew that if I just took off Bruce would follow me back; but I also knew I would never do that, and that we would get through this.

And we did. It got a little easier--thanks to the calls home, the great people in our ward, and the hope of graduation coming up. I know a lot of really difficult and even bad things happened to us while we were there, but mostly I don't remember them.
No.
I do remember them, if I think about them I can even still feel them; but they are not foremost in my mind. I remember, but I don't often think of them.

And now here we are. Back in the mountain desert of Utah, with eight kids (count 'em--eight!) Was it an experience for our good? I think so. When I think of being in Tennessee, I mostly remember our friends there, and the struggle to get through school, and graduation. So much of it was so new and so strange. I can honestly say it was hard; even in looking back the difficulty of it hasn't diminished.
But it was good, too. It's good.