Sunbonnet Soliloquy

By Jewell Ellen Smith

Here We Rest (Where to Retire)

How this part of the south came to be called “Alabama” is a legend worth telling, even though it has been told and retold so many times there is scarcely any truth left in it.

The story goes that a tribe of Indians living in the middle of what is now Georgia decided to move westward. After days and days of journeying they became so exhausted that the old men, the squaws and even the braves begged the chief to stop and rest.

“Not yet, not yet,” the chief said. And on they came to the great Chattahoochee River and managed to cross it. The minute they reached the other side the Indian chief stamped his foot on the ground and announced: “Al a bam a!” Or, translated, “Here we rest!”

Well, one can rest right well in Alabama. But sometimes I catch myself ahnost wishing I could find a state or a far away island or some other place that has the name “Here we are content.”

We have watched Army friends search for the same kind of spot. Take Sue and Ed, for example. For more than 20 years we’ve noted that those two keep expecting to find a place to live where they will know perfect contentment.

Sue and Ed met and married in New Orleans, but they didn’t like New Orleans, or any of Louisiana for that matter.

“Sure, New Orleans does have plenty of that Old World charm,” Sue would say, “but I want to see the real Europe! I wish Ed could get assigned to France or Germany, or some place like that!”

In due time Ed’s orders came: Germany! Sue and Ed were delighted. They traveled all over: To London, to Paris, into Austria, down to Switzerland, on to Italy. And it was in Germany that they adopted adorable little Pam, a dark-eyed beauty if ever there was one.

But soon Sue, and Ed, began to say, “Boy, will we ever be glad to get back to the good old U.S.A.! This cold climate is just dreadful!”

They were scarcely back on a stateside assignment and settled in quarters when they began talking of how nice it would be to have another overseas tour.

Eventually they found themselves assigned to two years of duty with the Taiwan Defense Command, in Taipei, Taiwan.

“Ah,” they both beamed, “here’s our chance to see the Orient! And, to buy some pretty things!”

They saw much of the Far East, and they purchased lovely pieces of furniture, jewelry, leather goods, porcelain, china. But it wasn’t six months before they were counting the weeks until they could return to the States.

“I can’t stand the smells!” Sue would complain. “And this tropical climate is dreadful! If we have to go through another typhoon, I’ll just die!”

We saw Sue and Ed next in Atlanta, Ga. By then they were beginning to say they surely would be glad when Ed could retire so they could settle down in some small town where it would be quiet and peaceful.

Ed did retire, after 30 years of service, and they came here to the Fort Rucker area for one year.

Then, they confided that they had always wanted to live in Florida. So they bought acreage in south Florida and raised fruit for a time. They got tired of that, for, as Sue explained, “Harvesting all that stuff is dreadful!”

They traded off the south Florida house and land and purchased a nice home in central Florida, one right down on the water. This they soon sold so they could move to middle Georgia, to an old homeplace that once belonged to Ed’s uncle.

Ed had fond memories of the old house. He had visited there as a child and he vowed that “this is the place for us! To me, it’s like coming home!”

“Yes,” Betty agreed, “we’ve always wanted a home in the country. And, besides, Pam and her family are close by.”

They spent a small fortune fixing up the old house. In fact, they made it into something of a show place. But their last Christmas card carried this note: “We’re tired of this dreadful rural life and will be moving soon.”

Poor Sue and Ed. And all other Army couples who have not yet learned how to be content. Contentment is not a thing you can find in a place. it is a thing you have to make where you are.

You have to be somewhat like the old Indian chief. Stamp your foot on the ground and announce to yourself: “Here I will be content.”

You may have to stamp the other foot, too, and add: “Whatever seems dreadful I will simply ignore!”

The soles of my shoes are worn thin.

Published August 1979. Click your browser’s ‘Back’ button to return.