it's good to be a princess...or an archer...or both.

"I am Merida, and I’ll be shooting for my own hand!" - Princess Merida in the Disney movie "Brave"

I named my daughter Amelia after Amelia Earhart because I believe there is power in a name and I wanted her to have a brave, adventurous spirit that would follow its own dreams and not listen to a world that said "No!" if she wanted to do something unique, unusual or not yet done by a woman. That was 1981, and while women had made great strides, there were (and still are) plenty of barriers to be broken and much to be accomplished before men and women are considered true equals.  

Like many little girls, my daughter loved Disney movies - in particular, she loved Disney princesses. There is just something about all that pale blue, pink and purple, those overly large doe-eyes, all that fabulous unruly hair and those wonderful dresses that draws a little girl in and holds her hostage for a few years.

The Disney princesses back in my daughter's day were clever, brave, kind, mischievous and a bit rebellious - all things I hoped my daughter would be. Their stories, however, were inextricably tied to the men in their lives. Their acts of bravery and rebellion, the lessons they learned and all of the trials they went through before gaining their "Happily Ever After" had to do with earning their father's respect, or rebelling against their father, or missing their father; and, there was also the matter of finding Prince Charming and winning his heart.  

These were not the most self-directed princesses. There were no plans for education or lofty goals for the future. Once peace was restored to the kingdom and they were happily wed, those princess' work was done and their stories faded away.   

I did not want my daughter's life script to include the idea that the cornerstone of her motivation was to gain the emotions she wanted from the men in her life. While I'm all for romance and true love, I hoped she would follow a bunch of stars before settling down and finding her "Happily Ever After." And, I wanted her to choose that "Happily Ever After" herself; I didn't want fate, a kiss or the breaking of some magic spell to choose it for her.

As it turned out, her story has a happy ending. My Amelia grew up with many of the traits I admired in those princesses, yet she set a course of her own, accomplished her dreams and didn't let the need for male approval guide her actions. She then married her own Prince Charming, who ended up being her high school sweetheart and, I believe, her one true love. No fade out there...they are still writing their stories together with dreams yet to dream and challenges yet to face.           

Flash forward to this summer, when our nieces, ages 10 and 12, came to spend a month with us. Since I hadn't had kids this age in the house for awhile, what was the first thing I turned to in my search for common ground and a way to relate? A Disney princess, of course.

One of the first things we did together was see "Brave," Disney's latest movie with a princess heroine. She is Merida, a skilled archer with a head of particularly spectacular red hair and a mind of her own. She is determined to carve out her own path, no matter the cost. Since it's Disney, the plot includes her hand being offered in marriage, only this movie offers a twist. When the princes in the kingdom come to compete for Merida's hand, she defies tradition, declares archery the contest, shoots for her own hand and wins.  

This creates a big stir which involves a witch, a magic potion and some very impulsive and poor decision making on Merida's part. But, the ending is happy and includes a new decree which allows young people in the kingdom to marry whom they wish. The nieces liked that ending and so did I.  

Another brave heroine functioning off her own script this summer is Katniss Everdeen, from Suzanne Collins' "The Hunger Games" books.  Like Merida, she is a skilled archer, independent thinker and uninterested in boys or male approval. Also like Merida, she is not much of a people pleaser, which, at times, has difficult consequences.

Katniss' story involves being one of 24 young people picked by the clearly evil, ruling regime to fight to the death in the annual Hunger Games. And, without revealing the ending, I can say, she sets a pretty awesome and inspiring example for girls and young women - so much so, that when I told the nieces we would set up an archery range and start shooting together, their faces lit up like the flames Katniss, "the girl who was on fire," was famous for.

We shot almost every night and the girls seemed to really enjoy "channeling their inner Katniss," as they called it. Life can be hard, scary and confusing for a girl trying to grow into an empowered woman. Self-esteem is critical, as is self-direction. I'm glad the princesses and heroines these days set that example, for as Katniss said, "As long as you can find yourself, you'll never starve."    

Harvest, 2012 in the Sinn Family wheat fields

"There is no substitute for hard work.” – Thomas Edison

I come from a long line of hard working people who sweat a lot and what better time to celebrate that than the week of the Summer Solstice? The longest, hottest (at least this year) day of the year – come on, everybody! Let’s go work outside!

My kin on both sides have been farmers and ranchers out West for generations. That means lots of outdoor time, lots of time in the sun and lots of sweat. We are not like you Southerners who become “dewy” as the temperatures rise. Oh, no – we sweat so profusely we need to carry bandannas to mop our faces and (at least before wicking material was invented) our clothes and hats were soaked and salt-stained by mid-morning.

Imagine how unlady-like someone of that constitution feels here in the South, from mid-June until early October…”Bloom where you’re planted” takes on a whole new meaning for me this time of year. If I had a dollar for every time some well-meaning, concerned Southerner asked me if I was okay over the years (my face gets so red when I’m hot I look like I'm about to have a heat stroke), well, I could’ve sent myself on a vacation or two somewhere chilly by now.  

But. it’s not all on the down side with sweat; sweat has a very noble meaning. It means you’re working hard. It means you’re getting things done. It means you’ll soon have something to show for your efforts. And, that’s why I don’t mind sweating a lot when I’m doing hard work. It gives me a sense of accomplishment.

I also really love when the work is done and it's time to go into the cold A/C. I often wonder what life here in the South was like before air conditioning. Frankly, I can't imagine it. People had to be tougher; they definitely moved slower and I bet they didn't get as much done on a hot day as we do...But wait a minute, that's not true. People back then did get a lot done all summer long. I bet most of them could out work most of us on a blistering hot, thickly humid July day. As much as I hate to admit it, I believe air conditioning softens us. It makes us too comfortable. It takes some of our drive and a lot of our interest in going outside away.

My dad worked a wheat farm in the summers when I was growing up. His early tractors didn't have cabs, let alone A/C, so there he was, day after day, all summer long, in the dust and the wind and the heat, sweating like a cold glass of ice tea on a very hot day. I remember thinking he looked miserable and I remember thinking what a strong and

determined man he must be, to go do that every day. I admired him for that.

One of my fondest memories of him is the sight of his dust-crusted face, sweat streams still running down his cheeks, stepping off that tractor when the sun finally set. He looked tired, but he also looked content and almost triumphant – like he'd beat the elements and really accomplished something that day.

Maybe because of those memories (or maybe out of temporary insanity) I worked as a house painter for awhile and that included exterior work in the Southern summer. One of the guys in the trade told me the secret to surviving the heat was to never get cool – at least not ‘til the day was done. He was right. Once you get in the rhythm of working hard, sweating hard and drinking water as you go, you can last all day. But, go into a restaurant where the A/C is cranked down to 70 for lunch? You’re a goner – hesitant to go back out into the heat and resentful of the oven it is for the rest of the day.

I am still proud of the work I did as a house painter. For a long time, I could drive by my work (houses I had literally poured a little blood, a lot of sweat and a few tears into) and re-experience the pride of that accomplishment. Working at a desk, in an air conditioned office never seems to feel that way...   

These days I garden and work in the yard when it's time to sweat. And, doing so puts me back in touch with my roots and what really matters, which sometimes is simply putting in a good long, red-faced day of sweaty hard work.    

Church Fire

"It's a living thing. It breathes, it eats and it hates. The only way to beat it is to think like it. To know that this flame will spread this way…not because of the physics of flammable liquids, but because it wants to…The only way to kill it is to love it a little." - "Shadow" Rimgale in the movie "Backdraft" 

I have passed by the old First Methodist Church, then Sanctuary of the Holy Spirit, on the corner of Center and Candler Streets nearly every day for the past 22 years. The lovely old majestic structure is a few blocks from my house and is on my path to almost anywhere and back home again. Now it is gone - destroyed by a ravenous fire that is believed to have been started by the brief and vicious lightning storm that happened around 10:30 p.m. last Thursday night.    

We were watching a movie, but paused it to go outside and marvel at the lightning. A few minutes later we heard sirens, so went outside again. The street was filled with thick gray smoke; something big was on fire. Clad in pajamas and slippers, I grabbed my camera and headed for the fire. My plan was to stay in the shadows, catch a few shots of whatever was going on then return home to the movie. As I neared the old church I could see thick, dark brown smoke pouring from the crack between the walls of the side towers and the sanctuary. It didn't look bad and there were a lot of firefighters and equipment on the scene, so I figured they'd have it handled in no time.   

By the time I rounded the corner of Center and Candler Streets I could see the fire licking at the stained glass windows in the front of the church. A few moments later, tendrils of flame began peering up over the roof line. There were two pumper trucks, one on either side of the church, pouring a torrent of water onto the fire. Firefighters from Winder and Barrow County had multiple hoses aimed at the structure, but it became clear very quickly that this fire's intent was to burn out of control.

As I moved around the scene, staying in the shadows and out of the firefighters' way, I marveled at how quickly and quietly they moved, in unison, with minimal talk and no drama. It was as if they were all reading from the same script, a script they had rehearsed so many times that when it came time to perform, their stage being this horrific fire, they knew exactly what to do and they did it without pause or hitch. There were men on hoses and men on the ground. A couple of men manned the well-lit equipment panel on each pumper truck; a few more, dressed in full firefighting regalia, hovered at the bottom of the ladders on the pumper trucks, waiting to do whatever it is firefighters do from high above the fire.   

The fire spread so quickly. Within minutes it blasted the stained glass windows out of the church and was chewing on the thick, once ornately-carved front doors. What once had been the sanctuary was now a bright yellow inferno. The flames grew taller and taller, engulfing the roof and reaching high, high into the sky. It became obvious the fire was going to destroy the building - it already had. In what seemed like only a few more minutes, the attention shifted to containing the flames and protecting the structures nearby.

The firefighters continued to work quietly and efficiently, without pause. An eerie yellow-orange light from the flames illuminated everything within a block or two. It looked like a movie set and reminded me of "Backdraft," a 1991 movie about fire and firefighters that has always been a favorite of mine. Only this was no movie set; the heat bellowing out of the building reminded us of that, as it blasted our faces and shot out into the night.

Bystanders gathered, but seemed so startled and mesmerized by the fire's voracious dance they remained quiet, humbled, respectful. No one even tried to sneak past the Winder Police officers who guarded the scene. I was as mesmerized as everyone else, standing across the street from the front of the church, watching it burn, burn, burn. The two towers fell, as the flames continued to engulf the sanctuary and reach to the sky. It was as if that fire couldn't get its fill; it just kept eating and growing and eating and growing.

The smoke was also quite eerie. It hovered and swirled, slithered and danced like a “Smoke Monster” on TV; it was as if it had a life of its own. It was so vicious and vital, at times, I swear, it looked like it had evil yellow eyes.

I went home before the fire finished its nasty work. I couldn't bear to watch the destruction anymore. As I walked, tears welled up in my eyes, which surprised me. It wasn't my church; I'd never even set foot inside. It was, however, such a beautiful old structure, only recently, so painstakingly and lovingly restored by the congregation of the Sanctuary of the Holy Spirit…Imagine all the tears, prayers, hopes and fears that have hovered between those walls since it was built in 1904…Weddings, funerals, christenings and celebrations…God’s energy, love, light and blessings, comforting and touching so many…and now it’s gone.

There’s no explaining why lighting strikes a historic and holy place like that; but it did. May the memories of all that happened in that church comfort those who will miss it so sadly. I will try to focus on that as I drive by it’s sad shell. Loving memories…sometimes that has to be enough.