The sound of falling leaves crunched under our feet as we searched for the white blazes along the Mountains-to-Sea Trail. Our dog, Ringo, happily followed along, thrilled to be out of the house and into the woods.
The cool thing about elementary students is they still get excited about the events and activities going on at their school. Once they roll into junior high the hormonal indifference sets in and even if they are thrilled about something, it’s hidden behind a veil of adolescent angst.
Many moons ago, when I attended a seventh-grade sleepover, I met a new girl in town. Her name was Lana. She was from Natchez, Mississippi, and had wild curly blonde hair, a vibrant personality and was a huge New Orleans Saints fan.
I know next to nothing about hunting, but a random man in the gas station got me thinking about the sport. We were both waiting in line at the cash register. He turned to me and struck up a conversation about finding a severely injured deer while hunting in the woods.
I’m writing this column from Playa Del Carmen, Quintana Roo in Mexico. We just watched the sunrise over the Caribbean Sea, and now I’m sitting on our balcony listening to the euphony of tropical birds and relishing in a fleeting morning breeze that will soon turn to heavy humid heat.
In a previous column, I talked of my personal challenge to undergo “The Great Susanna Reset” this summer. One of my goals is to be more playful and to remember the little girl that still lives deep inside my hardened womanly shell. Interestingly, superheroes have become a part of my journey.
George Vanderbilt first opened Biltmore, his magnificent private estate, to family and friends on Christmas Eve 1895. Today, his descendants continue welcoming guests with that same spirit of gracious hospitality.