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<DIV>K-</DIV>
<DIV>my prose is not as profound or articulate as yours, but I want you to know
that I am very glad you came home ten years ago.</DIV>
<DIV>You certainly are brightening this community forum.</DIV>
<DIV>BL</DIV>
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<DIV style="font-color: black"><B>From:</B> <A title=kjajmix1@msn.com
href="mailto:kjajmix1@msn.com">keely emerinemix</A> </DIV>
<DIV><B>Sent:</B> Wednesday, February 22, 2012 10:44 AM</DIV>
<DIV><B>To:</B> <A title=vision2020@moscow.com
href="mailto:vision2020@moscow.com">vision2020@moscow.com</A> </DIV>
<DIV><B>Subject:</B> [Vision2020] ten years ago today</DIV></DIV></DIV>
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<DIV dir=ltr>Good morning, Visionaires,<BR><BR>It was February 22, 2002, that
the boys and I, fueled by a stop at Starbucks and Krispy Kreme in Issaquah,
Washington, hit I-90 east with a truck full of our stuff and, stomachs churning
and tears yet to dry on adolescent and third-grade cheeks, said goodbye to
family, friends, neighbors, co-workers, and ministry and prepared to begin our
new lives in my husband's hometown, Moscow, Idaho.<BR><BR>Jeff was to join us
that weekend, and for the first six months of our time in Moscow, in a house on
Ridgeview Drive whose backyard overlooked the front yard and barn he and his
grandfather built up on their family home, he was with us for nine days and
"back there" for the next nine, winding up his 22-year tenure as co-owner of
Total Landscape Corporation in Woodinville. We had lived in Snohomish
County for 18 years as his business took off and my ministry among immigrant
workers flourished, and his family all lived in Snohomish and Monroe and Gold
Bar, guaranteeing not only that we'd always have a babysitter, but that our sons
would grow up knowing as much about being part of a close family as they did
about layering outside attire so as to take advantage of every possible chance
to be outdoors. Anthony was three when we moved to our perfect little
Monroe rancher on a perfect little residential street abutted by cul-de-sacs and
filled with preschool-aged boys. Jonah was born while we were there, and,
except for an ill-advised move to Snohomish exactly a year before we moved to
Moscow -- a move that still grieves us, accomplishing, as it did, nothing more
than the uprooting of our sons' while failing to stanch the tide of work and
ministry that had begun to take over our lives -- that's the home they grew up
in. <BR><BR>But the reality is that a God-prospered business and a
God-directed ministry still can spill over their banks and consume a young
family not adept at setting boundaries, and so, after much prayer and with equal
parts anguish and joy, we decided to move to the place I fell in love with the
first year of our marriage, 1984, when we went to a family reunion on the
grounds of the little house behind the bank of trees we live in now -- the house
that's nestled onto property that's been in Jeff's family for 127 years, the
house I fell in love with that weekend even without going inside -- the house I
know with all of my heart I was born to live in, in the town I considered my
home even before I began living there.<BR><BR>Lots of big things have happened
in the decade since we decided to "simplify our lives." I've tried
politics and continued my activism; I've suffered loss, worked myself to the
point of exhaustion on losing causes, and lost contact with scores and scores of
people I worked with for 12 years in Monroe. It wasn't in the plan, of
course, but I've gone through the fear and pain of physical illness and a car
wreck that changed my life, and I smile at the irony that more sunny days in
Moscow came to me when I was first too busy to enjoy them on my bicycle and now
not at all busy and yet unable to enjoy them anyway by hiking, bicycling, and
doing all of the strenuous things that I always had. It hasn't all been
good; it certainly hasn't all been "simple." But through even the darkest
days, I know I'm living in my hometown. My family has prospered here in
every way. Jeff sold his share of his big, successful business and works
now with a partner, his truck, and a bigger smile than I had seen during too
much of the mid-1980s and 1990s. My boys grew to like Moscow, but my
eldest left even before he graduated from the University his grandfathers did,
and my youngest seems more content here than I thought he would. Anthony's
back in Monroe-Snohomish; Jonah's thrilled to be at BookPeople. The
balance of our lives has been demonstrated, I suppose, in my sons, and each is
where he should be.<BR><BR>But Jeff and I are here, and I wanted to take this
time to thank Moscow for the innumerable gifts its given me. Every sales
clerk, pharmacist, grocery store cashier, barista, nurse, waitress, and office
administrator who remembers my name has deepened my roots here, making me feel
connected and cared for; every friend I've made has gladdened my heart.
The doctor whose put up with me for ten years, Helen Shearer, is a Godsend, and
the teachers who've enriched my sons' lives are as well. This is a lively
town, a hotbed of thought and activity. I've wrangled with conservatives
and infuriated liberals, and I've learned that some of the wisest people I know
have very little formal schooling. Conversely, my previous awe of the Ph.D
and the Ed.D has been . . . well . . . more than a little tempered. I've
lived well, loved much, lost some, gained more, and been refined, tested, and
strengthened by being part of the most wonderful town in the world. I've
eaten well, enjoyed music and art and theater and poetry, and have been moved to
tears by the beauty of the woods to my east and the soft ripple of wind through
green wheatfields to my west. I've found the church I've always longed for
and I marvel that they're glad they found me. I've had the privilege of
meeting many of you here on Vision 2020, and whether we've agreed or not, or
whether I've annoyed you or encouraged you, you've been part of my "coming
home," as John Denver put it, to a place I'd never been before. My prayer
is that those who know me would see that everything I've done publicly in Moscow
has as its ultimate goal the betterment of our town. I haven't always
gotten it right. It hasn't been the easiest, most simple, or least painful
decade of my life -- not by a long shot. But if life serves up hard
things, I'm glad I've been rooted here to meet them. Moscow is knit
through my husband's and my family's history, and I'm beyond grateful that it's
knit through the tapestry of my life and will be 'til the end. I live in
Moscow, Idaho, and with all of my heart, I thank God and I thank you all for
your part in making this the only place I'll ever want to live.<BR><BR>You can't
give a town a hug, but you can embrace it and its people. If you're
reading this, I'm glad you're here -- and I bet you are, too.<BR><BR>Go Vandals,
go Bears, and Viva Latah County!<BR><BR><FONT color=#8064a2><FONT
style="FONT-SIZE: 12pt" size=3><FONT
face=Verdana>Keely<BR>www.keely-prevailingwinds.com<BR></FONT></FONT></FONT></DIV>
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