USA: When it's time to change

Squeaky wisdom from the Brady Bunch, clandestine gardening, and some reconstructive surgery on this here Substack-newsletter-thingamablog

Remember the Bradys? I’m pretty sure I saw every episode of every season at least three times, once this show went into reruns. Four o’clock on a weekday afternoon was practically made for the story of the lovely lady who was bringing up three very lovely girls, as well as the man named Brady—who was busy with three boys of his own—and of course Ann B. Davis as the unforgettable Alice¹.

Remember when Peter’s voice started changing, right in the middle of the kids’ shot at becoming a singing group? He squeaked and squawked something awful. The siblings were torn. They had two choices: either cut Peter out of the group, or rewrite a song so he could fully participate, unpredictable voice and all. After much deliberation, they chose the latter option, and the rest is history.

As the chorus reiterates between endless 70’s sha na nas, we are reminded:

When it’s time to change

You’ve got to rearrange

Who you are and what you’re gonna be

They’re simple lyrics from a simple song from a simple television show, but we often forget, right? We forget that change is possible—sometimes even preferable. We establish patterns through habits and just keep going, even when changing things up would actually be beneficial.

Day by day it’s hard to see

the changes you've been through

A little bit of living, a little bit of growing

All adds up to you

We change. Our situations change. Just because something was the best choice then, doesn’t mean it is the best choice now. What works in your teen years is different from what works in your 30s, which in turn is entirely distinct from what works in your 50s. That’s as far as I’ve gotten so far, but I hear the same theory rings true in the decades to come, as well.

But some changes are harder than others

Just a few days ago, when Andy and I were outside our former home², working on our expedition vehicle, my eye was repeatedly drawn to the flower garden right next to where we were working.

It used to be my flower garden, of course. I put so much time into it (and my two other flower gardens) over the years. Even after we had stopped living here full-time, splitting our time between our home in Montana and our teaching jobs in Oregon, I would attack it each summer with a vengeance—pulling weeds, rebuilding the rock wall, adding more flowers, making my little Irish Spring cubes of soap-on-a-stick deer deterrent popsicles, and coaxing it back into a peaceful place of beauty set in our acres of rural wildness.

One of my many summer weeding frenzies, having arrived back in Montana after finishing the school year teaching in Oregon

Once the gardens were whipped back into shape, I would frequently stand out there during the summer, just admiring and enjoying the scene, excited to celebrate each new bloom. My husband and kids knew to dutifully follow and patiently gaze, whenever I said, “Come look at the flowers with me.”

Now the house—this property that has been part of my life for nearly as far back as I can remember—is sold. The new owners are busy with other projects. The gardens have been completely neglected since I last tended them before we sold in May of last year. The dry scruff of last year’s flowers, as well as the reedy leftovers of last year’s weeds almost completely shrouded this year’s brave new growth. I will admit, seeing my gardens abandoned like this breaks my heart just a little bit. My eye has caught on that one particular garden—the one closest to us—every time I go outside, like rough skin snags on a silk scarf.

Some habits die hard. My hands have been itching to get to work.

Finally, a few days ago, I couldn’t stand it anymore. I looked both ways. The new owner’s car was not in the driveway. I marched over there and tidied up the garden as fast as I could, like a green-thumbed maniac on a mission, making huge mounds of the crispy, dry discards and carrying them off to a burn pile just out of sight.

Ahh. So much better. The emerging flowers are so happy to see the sunlight again. When I look over there now, I can breathe. Andy reminded me it’s not my job anymore, but I am totally going to the store to buy some Irish Spring and kebab sticks so I can protect the lilies (and other assorted delicacies) from the deer.

The new owner might not ever prioritize gardening. She might choose to dig up these gardens eventually. It’s her yard, her gardens. She can certainly change the landscape to suit her desires if she wants. Fortunately, Andy and I will most likely be gone to pursue our life as nomads within another month or two, so I won’t have to see those changes.

---

Sha na na na na na na na na, sha na na na na

(Scroll back up and check the video, if you don’t already know the song. There really are that many na na nas.

I will add, though, that changes we ourselves have chosen to make are generally much easier—even if you have to look at an unkempt flowerbed for a little while—than changes that are thrust upon us against our will. These are much more difficult to adjust to, as we feel powerless. When we weren’t part of the decision, but must adjust to the changes anyway, the grief is much more difficult.

The changes we get excited about are the ones we deliberated over and decided were the right thing. I have some big changes coming up for which I am absolutely ready.

The biggest change, of course, is our transition from a stationary American lifestyle to one of permanent full-time global nomadic wandering in a big yellow truck. That’s kind of a big deal.

But a close second is the change I’ve planned for right here at Beauty and Truth Weekly. (What is this weekly written thing, anyway? Substack is such a weird name, but I like the platform, so this is where I write.) Anyway, whatever it is, there are some big changes coming to this Substack-newsletter-thingamablog. It’s time for this Substack to grow along with us.

Sing it, Peter Brady: It’s time to change!

Here’s a preview of what’s to come:

1. The name of this publication, Beauty and Truth Weekly³, is going to change to something that better fits our new lifestyle and purpose. I love the new name, and once you understand it, I think you will, too.

2. With the new name will come a new logo and a new overall design.

3. I will be adding a weekly interview segment called “Seven Questions” so you can meet some of the cool people I encounter as we travel.

4. I am going to open this space up to paid subscriptions. (KEEP READING, TRUST ME.) You will have the option of paying monthly, paying annually, becoming a Founding Member—like a super-subscriber—or not paying anything at all. Everyone, at every level of payment or non-payment, will still get access to these weekly posts. Remember when I wrote a few weeks ago about the parable of the vineyard owner who gave the five o’clock people the same wages as the early birds? Yeah. It’s kind of like that. (I can’t wait to share more about how this works—and WHY—in the weeks to come. I’ll be asking for a few helpers to be on this launch team, so stay tuned.)

5. AND I am going to be adding a second weekly free Substack that is just for quirky and/or humorous and/or bizarre photos of funny things we see as we travel. I’ll tell you more about it as we get closer to its launch date (May 31), but it will be a separate optional subscription, completely light-hearted, and completely free of AI manipulation, recycled memes, or images stolen from someone else. Like this house I spotted in Grand Forks, North Dakota? Yep. I really saw it with my own eyes and snapped this photo:

   

The relaunch of this Beauty and Truth thingamablog under its new name will happen on June 18, basically the one-year anniversary of this publication. For some of you, nothing will change, other than the name and the look. But some of you will choose to become paid subscribers—and not begrudgingly, but willingly, even excitedly, out of a cheerful heart. You just wait.

Have I mentioned I am so excited about this? Any exciting changes coming up in your life? Hit that comment button and share with the class!

Until next week,

Sherry

Andy and I found this awesome chair on a beach in Puerto Rico in November 2022

1. When I was raising my own children, I often thought of how wonderful it would be to have an Alice. You, too?

2. We have sold our home and most everything else, but we have an agreement with the new owner whereby we can still live on the property (currently in a fifth wheel trailer on the RV pad) and use the shop while we finish building our travel rig.

3. When I was pursuing photography more than a decade ago, I was privileged to have a few gallery shows, so I needed an artist bio. Mine started with something like this: “Sherry Chidwick is a seeker of beauty and truth. Beauty is not always truthful, and the truth is not always a thing of beauty. But it is where the two of them meet that she seeks to focus her lens.” For years, the name of my Instagram account was seeker_of_beauty_and_truth. When I needed a name for this Substack, it made sense to stick with the same theme. I am a little sad to see it go, but it’s time.