At times I have to leave my desk for a little while to clear my head before continuing with the day. Walking around the Historic Campus is helpful; a bit of time on the bluff watching the tide come and go is a blessing as well; and, of course, praying beneath the heart pine beams is sure to calm even the most stressed of emotions. But lately I've developed a fondness for sitting in the swing on the front porch of our office building. The gentle sway of the Spanish moss beckons me to join its rhythm, while the old oaks encourage a more laid-back approach to my precious moments of respite. The squirrels scampering about the yard seem unconcerned about my intrusion, less so the wren nesting in the geranium a scant few feet away. Beyond the picket fence passes a parade of folks, many pausing to take pictures of the bucolic scene - I suspect more than a few secretly covet an invitation to rock for a moment or two in one of the chairs nearby.
In the days before air conditioning and television, my grandparents spent hours rocking and swinging on the front porches which were so integral to their family life. In the cool of the evening: stories were shared about long dead relatives and their adventures in places as distant as the county seat; wisdom was conveyed from one generation to the next; and hopes and dreams were kindled in the young. I recall those childhood memories from time to time as I gaze upon Calhoun Street and wonder if nostalgia is becoming a thing of the past.