The Meadowlark

The meadowlark sang for no reason other than there was a song in its heart. The little girl did the same.

The first time I ever saw the little girl she was seated at a table in the middle school library. Pen in hand, slowly, deliberately and nervously forming each letter of her signature. I smiled as I watched her sign her scholarship contract, knowing that she and I would get to spend a lot of time together over the next 5 years.

As the years passed, Phoebe and I did spend much time together in our relationship as Mentor/Protégé. We met regularly. We chatted in the school’s conference room over chicken sandwiches and sweet tea. She rode shotgun in my jeep on afternoons when I drove her home from band practice. We hiked the mountainous trails near our little town. And together we even cooked meals in my kitchen that would be delivered to the local children’s shelter. As we did these things, we discussed life and school - me always making sure that she was on solid ground academically and in her personal life.

Early on, our relationship was friendly and light and Phoebe frequently made passing references to her home life and family members but nothing to merit my concern. No matter where we went, people would enthusiastically shout her name then run to her for an exuberant hug. Phoebe you see, is well known in our little town and noticeably beloved by all. She is charming, kind and always happy as a lark. Phoebe is one of those people with a magnetic personality who just seems to have it all together. Everyone assumed that her life was a fairy tale.

But beneath the veneer of a perfect life, and unbeknownst to almost everyone, a darkness lurked. Difficulties that seemed so insurmountable, they threatened to silently consume this cheerful little songbird.

Two full years into our time together, as we hiked up Pine Mountain trail, the flood gates opened and Phoebe began to describe the hard realities about her family and her life.

As a young child she had been removed from her Mom and placed in foster care in another city. It happened in early December and she remembered her Mom’s promise that she would come get her and that they would celebrate Christmas together. Phoebe waited, but her Mom never came. Instead, she celebrated Christmas with people she barely knew. But amidst the sadness of her mother’s unfulfilled promise came a small moment of happiness. Beneath the Christmas tree that year there was a beautifully wrapped gift with the name “Phoebe” on the label. Inside was a teddy bear wearing a festive plaid scarf, embroidered with the name “Aero.” It was the first Christmas gift Phoebe had ever received. She was six years old.

As we continued up Pine Mountain, she continued to tell her heartbreaking life story. Then came worst revelation of all. She revealed painful facts about her mother who by this time she had not seen nor spoken to in over 10 years. The mother who was so drug addicted that she was never able to regain custody of her little girl, actually lived just a few miles away. Phoebe sobbed as she confessed that her mother frequently begged for handouts from strangers on the interstate exit ramp, and then used the money to buy drugs and cigarettes. Her face was racked with pain and embarrassment as she shared the torment of knowing this about her own Mother.  I know that there must have been many times when, like Jenny in the movie Forrest Gump, she wished to be a bird so that she could just fly away.

Her story continued and she described the next eight years of her life. She eventually landed in a more stable home when one of her Mother’s Ex Husbands gained legal custody of her and her two half sisters. Things there were better, but they were still far less than perfect. It was an existence of poverty, food scarcity and continuous uncertainty. My little songbird, who most believed to be living a comfortable life, frequently relied on the generosity of teachers, friends, and even strangers to help with food, school supplies and other necessities. Even though none of this was her fault she felt embarrassment. She disguised this shame with her signature million dollar smile.

“If you want to fly, you must first give up what weighs you down.” I believe that her disclosure of the many painful realities of her life was a cathartic first step in purging a heaviness that was holding her down - she was now free to take flight. I knew that a better life was within her grasp and I was determined to help her get there. And I hoped that her awful circumstances would not extinguish the beautiful song that was in her heart.

And miraculously, she did continue to sing and begin to take flight. Through all the difficulties and challenges Phoebe became determined to “get out”. She never missed a day of school. She achieved very high grades in difficult classes and participated heavily in extra curricular activities. And even though she herself faced many challenges, she was always unselfishly concerned about the well being of friends and classmates. She not only wanted to fix herself, she wanted to fix everyone!!

I recall one time when we were in my car together talking about her boyfriend; someone I had concerns about but had never brought up until that day. I said to Phoebe, “I have concerns about him. He is into bad things, and I'm afraid that he will change you.”   Without hesitation she offered me a sincere but surprising reply. “Maybe I can change him” she said softly. Wow! That was a plot twist that I had not anticipated. It illustrated the depth of her unselfish concern for others.

Her junior year was coming to an end and we continued preparations for her life after high school. In addition to her regular school work, she spent much time preparing for the ACT. In order to afford clothes and food, Phoebe worked 30 hours weekly at a fast food restaurant, bumming rides home each night when the store closed. Without complaint, she managed an extremely challenging daily schedule. She sacrificed sleep and social activities in order to achieve her goals.

And all of that hard work eventually paid off. She was accepted into every college to which she applied and ultimately made the decision to pursue a degree in Mechanical Engineering at Georgia Tech. In the summer of 2021 she left behind everything she had ever known and struck out on wing and a prayer. We packed up my jeep, moved all of her belongings into Perry Dorm and hugged goodbye on the corner of Bobby Dodd and Techwood Drives.

Phoebe is now half way through her sophomore year at Georgia Tech and is doing well. Her classes challenge her but she is surviving and learning. She is a member of the color guard in the marching band and gets to perform in a cute (kind of sexy - ugh) sequin outfit on game days at Bobby Dodd Stadium. She enjoys the company of a large group of supportive friends. She still stretches herself thin by working almost 30 hours weekly at a part time job.  AND…She shouts “To Hell with Georgia” like her mentor used to do!”

Emily Dickinson wrote that “Hope is that thing with feathers that perches in the soul” and indeed it has been hope alone that has sustained Phoebe for years. Her hopes and mine. It is my hope that she will continue to grow and realize that her future is not dictated by her past. I hope that she can break the stigmas and heartbreak caused by intergenerational trauma. I hope that her compelling life story of perseverance and survival will eventually be something that she chooses to share with others to inspire them to overcome similar circumstances. And I hope that the beautiful song that she carries in her heart will be an inspiration to many others.

She is growing up and becoming self sufficient and we are not in contact nearly as much as we once were…but this is all a part of the plan, right? I have her for a short time. I help and guide her through her high school years and hopefully give her confidence and wings to fly.

On a frosty morning last October, as I sat in my jeep waiting for the Cades Cove gate to open, my phone rang. What a surprise! A call from Phoebe at 7:20am!  She was up early and about to trudge up freshman hill en route to an 8am lecture in The Howie Physics Building. Her call was just a friendly “hello” and we chatted about her roommates (she adores them) and her lab partner (she does not adore him). She told me that somehow in her very busy schedule she has made time to regularly attend a bible study. She is living a good and wholesome life but as is always the case, concerns about her family privately occupy a large space in her mind and in her heart. She is slowly climbing out of that world she used to live in, but her half sisters can not seem to do the same and it hurts her greatly. She is conflicted by her own success and  by the opportunities she is beginning to see on the horizon. I just remind her to continue to do the best she can in this moment at school. Since my earliest association with her, we have often talked about the idea that “she must put the oxygen mask on herself first before she can put it on others.”

I am so very proud of her!

Our call ended just as the gates opened and I rolled into Cades Cove hoping to photograph fall color or perhaps even a bear. With Phoebe still on my mind I slowly navigated the loop, passed the visitor center and turned left onto Hyatt Lane. I was mesmerized by the magical icy landscape that had been created by the season’s first frost. Glancing out into a field I saw a flash of yellow, It’s just a maple leaf caught on a tree branch, I thought to myself.

But I saw it move again and I wondered aloud, “Is that a bird?”

I lifted my Nikon with the 600mm lens already attached and snapped a quick shot of the subject which was over 60 yards away. I looked on the rear display and zoomed in even further.

"By Golly! That is a bird!  I think its a Meadowlark!!”

I jumped from my jeep and crossed onto the edge of the meadow. I took a shot and then inched a few steps closer, but I was still too far away for the bird to fill the frame. I continued to move closer, taking a shot every few feet and to my surprise the bird did not fly. Even when I was just 30 yards away it remained atop a dead branch singing its heart out. It sang a song so perfect and pure, that I could actually see the notes formed by its breath. I clicked photo after photo and as I did, the meadowlark continued singing the most joyful song.

I have heard it said that a bird does not sing because it has an answer, it sings because it has a song. The Meadowlark sang in spite of the bitter cold. It sang in spite of the approaching winter. I was drawn to its song and its hopefulness. And I realized that this cheerful and joyous Meadowlark was a perfect reflection of my Phoebe. In spite of bitter circumstances, she too had a joyful song in her heart. She sings a song so beautiful and pure that others are inspired by her example. Both make the world brighter and more bearable with their song, their purity and with their joyful noise, and I am thankful and lucky to have been in just the right places at just the right times to bear witness to both.