I am so lucky. I got to spend the last 10 or so days in Southern California, mostly with my family and adding in some Touchstone Time at the end of the trip. It was the first solo road trip I have taken in many years. Usually the S.O. and I fly somewhere for vacation or maybe road trip together depending on how long we have. But I was feeling the need for the open road and had some family matters to attend to so off I went. I was looking forward to spending some time with my brother and his family; minus the Niece Who Is Away At College. There is still one Niece (A) at home and her brother (let's call him Boy.) Plus my mom, brother aka the Irish Twin and his wife, who is like a sister to me. I always stay at the Irish Twin's house because I like the time with all of them plus the fur niece and admittedly it is still hard for me to stay at Mom's house without Dad being there. Even though it has been many years.
Dad embodied the American success story. Well, at least he did for my siblings and me. He grew up in upstate NY, the son of tenant chicken farmers. My grandparents moved upstate when Dad was young; after my grandfather took an early retirement from the NYPD due to a gunshot wound. They raised my father, his sister and brother on various egg farms and instilled a love of reading and learning in all three of them. They all went to college with Dad leaving the area and going to the Naval Academy. He joined the Air Force upon graduation and when he started his second career in the private sector we moved to California for the last time. Dad had a strong sense of patriotism and love for our country. He believed anything was possible and respected people with different views. He always pointed out that differing views make our country what it was and is, a country with free speech and free pursuit of religion (or not as the case may be), a country that promotes the idea of freedom.
So this brings me to what is compelling me to write this. In spending time with A and the Boy I learned that schools are really struggling with accommodating divergent views. Particularly around the Pledge of Allegiance and our Flag. And I am bothered. Really bothered. I am bothered because I respect the right of those who don't agree with saying God while reciting the Pledge to not say God or to not say the Pledge at all. That is fine and that's their choice. As it is my choice to say our Pledge and to include recitations around God when saying it. To those who don't agree - I respect you and your choices, you respect me and mine. We can peacefully coexist and not be offended by each others beliefs or choices. But don't ask me to give up my rights to accommodate yours. And if that means you can't acknowledge the Flag and have to turn your back to it, well - while I don't understand that I respect your right to do this.
So in talking about this A asked me what this means and why is it such a big deal to me? She wasn't challenging my views, just trying to understand them. I remember being her age and having similar discussions with my parents. I know they are important conversations and they require thoughtful, honest responses. So here is my response, in the form of a letter.
Dear A,
I say the entire Pledge of Allegiance because first and foremost I am very patriotic. I freely Pledge Allegiance to our Flag and our country because I am grateful. I am grateful to the founding fathers and all of those who fought to create a nation that embraced differences for the greater good. For unity and freedom. For our rights. For representation at all levels of our government.
I embrace our Flag and what it symbolizes. Every time I say the Pledge I think of those who fought, and fight, for our freedoms. Yes, your great-grandfather in WWI, your grandfather, your uncle and possibly you as you consider a military academy appointment in lieu of traditional college. The Flag reminds me of all of those who have sacrificed. No matter where or when. No matter my personal thoughts about the war they have fought in or may fight in. They are sacrificing for me and us. The Flag stands for those that have fallen and I respect that and appreciate it. They believed in our country and freedoms enough to join the military and serve; how can I not support them as they made the ultimate sacrifice?
The Flag reminds me that we have others serving us in different ways. Some with grace and some, maybe not so much. But they are still serving and have a belief in their service that I need to respect. Yes, I am talking about people involved in politics. Obviously I don't agree with all politicians but I respect their involvement and willingness to get involved. It is a tremendous sacrifice as a profession. And these days, if you just relied on political pundits and tv ads it is pretty ugly. But I like to educate myself, look at the greater good and the system in place to allow people to participate in the process. And to me, the Flag stands for all of this.
And finally I honor the Flag because it stands for freedom and a safe haven. I had the best reminder of that the other day while having a bagel with your grandmother. At the table next to us was a gentleman who sat alone but was very friendly and greeted people as they walked by him. He held the door open for us as he wished us both a good day. As he did that I saw the numbers on his arm and thought about how much that man has seen and overcome. The horrors he saw and hopefully the good in people that he experienced. Now I know that our country has issues and truly, not all are treated equally. Sadly the founding fathers never said treated equally in their writings, they said created equally. And yes, we have a long way to go on the treatment of all peoples as equals but we live in a society that is always willing to change and address shortcomings. It takes time but I am optimistic that the right thing always happens. So how can I not honor a Flag that represents so much hope for those who don't experience it here or in many cases, in their native countries?
As for the Pledge of Allegiance I am proud to say it. Yes, I believe in God but I have to say that I have had periods in my life where I didn't believe in God. God as a concept was only recently added to the Pledge, during and after a time of horror in the world. I say the full Pledge because it best embodies for me the meaning of the Flag, our United States and my sense of patriotism. And in times where my belief in God wavered it never dawned on me not to recite the Pledge of Allegiance. Because for me, saying the Pledge showed respect to those who believe in God and a persons right not to believe in God. So I say the full Pledge, it is a way of acknowledging my fellow Americans and our differences - whether we share a belief in God or not.
A, this is why I say the Pledge and honor our Flag. It isn't a quick answer nor uncomplicated but these are things I deeply believe in. I hope that those who don't believe respect my choices and won't ask me not to say the Pledge or honor our Flag because I have a right to those freedoms as much as they have a right not to participate in them.
If you end up serving our country I hope you remember this and the millions of people who believe in the Flag and recite the Pledge. I hope you think about your grandfather and his optimism, his belief in our country. If you are out of our country and see the Flag I hope it represents all of the wonderful things about our country and gives you a sense of patriotism in the face of confusing and difficult times in the world. A sense of purpose and right, a sense of humanity and the greater good. Thanks for asking me the question and reminding me of all of the things I wrote about.
With much love, Aunt A.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Our Life, Who Knew?
Wow. It has been quite awhile since I have been on here. I can't believe it has been 6 years since we made the move to Utah. What were we thinking? Our families and friends thought we were nuts. I am convinced some didn't even really know where Utah was. It was "somewhere over there". This from people who live all over the country.
I did my research and tried to come up with things to support the move other than our joy at leaving smog, traffic and time spent in traffic inhaling smog. So to my Jewish Mother (JM) I mentioned that we could go to the Symphony during the summer outdoors at a ski resort and the Ballet during the winter in the Big City. That sold her. My mother beat me to the punch and had a list of the great restaurants in our little town, information about the Catholic Parish and the numbers of all of her friends who own vacation homes here. We convinced both of them that we weren't moving off the grid or away from civilization aka the Unabomber. Or that the Unabomber would be our neighbor for that matter. Like all good mothers, they both spread the word to everyone else. Those who weren't sure were willing to support our 'alternative lifestyle'. Interesting choice of words since we didn't know that bigamy, oops polygamy, is apparently alive and well in certain rural parts of this state.
After we moved here it was definitely an adjustment. What do you mean no Chinese food delivery? Wait, no Chinese food or food delivery for that matter? Where is the valet parking station at Nordstrom? Umm, actually - where is Nordstrom? And what is PC time and why does that mean we have to wait all day for a guy who is coming to finish painting when he said he'd be here at 9. According to the painter he said 9 ish which meant noon and lunch. We definitely had some adjustments to make. To us, not Utah.
Somehow we convinced C, the Bonus Boy, to join us here. He was a trooper and actually, he and I share more stories about year 1 than the SO and I do. The Bonus Boy tagged along on many adventures in finding grocery stores, drycleaners and colleges for him. As payback I drove him when he was looking for a certain tatoo shop in the Big City down the canyon as well as a reputable "piercer" for his nose. And no, that last thing never happened. We tried to navigate the slopes together and he was a saint one day at a certain ski resort while helping me with my yard sale (ski term). Naturally he got Child of the Year that year. His sisters still don't understand it.
It was a learning curve to be sure. First of all, the if/then algorythm that applied to liquor at the time. State liquor stores and their strange hours; club memberships and the Wall of Zion required in restaurants to shield diners from seeing the creation and pouring of libations. Don't get me started on the state holidays that cause everything to shut down. Life is rough if you don't have access to one of those special calendars. And when you move here with dogs from out of state that need to be licensed the first time you license them you have to drive to the County Seat and do it in person. (Yes, we are a rarity; we license our dogs.) The directions I was given to get there included passing The Spring Chicken Inn and some ranch whose name escapes me. This was a far cry from Southern California or any of my prior life except maybe college.
We bought the gas guzzling four wheel drive vehicles much to the chagrin of our so-called support group. They became believers after visiting us during the winter and trying to navigate our driveway in rental cars. Over the years the liquor laws have become more user friendly. And we now get pizza delivered. A new Nordstrom opened and when I went to their pre-opening Gala they had valet parking. The dog licensing is done at the vets and painters, among others, actually show up when they say they are going to.
So here we are six years later pondering potentially a move which I was game for until I started thinking about how great living here has been. You see, Utah is the type of state where you can get involved and actually make a difference. Today I shared a lunch table with a gubernatorial candidate and some very successful business people. (I still am not sure how I fit in, I am thinking I was there as the entertainment.) He is an engaging and terrific guy, very earnest about the quality of life in this state and improving it for the citizens. We talked about community needs and our interests in the community. The group talked about how tough it is to run or own a business in this economic environment. And we talked about family. Which took me back to my own and their support for this life the SO and I have made here. Now, when they bring up Utah and their wishes to move here we really enjoy hearing the envy in their voices. It is our home, not a home away from home but our home.
I did my research and tried to come up with things to support the move other than our joy at leaving smog, traffic and time spent in traffic inhaling smog. So to my Jewish Mother (JM) I mentioned that we could go to the Symphony during the summer outdoors at a ski resort and the Ballet during the winter in the Big City. That sold her. My mother beat me to the punch and had a list of the great restaurants in our little town, information about the Catholic Parish and the numbers of all of her friends who own vacation homes here. We convinced both of them that we weren't moving off the grid or away from civilization aka the Unabomber. Or that the Unabomber would be our neighbor for that matter. Like all good mothers, they both spread the word to everyone else. Those who weren't sure were willing to support our 'alternative lifestyle'. Interesting choice of words since we didn't know that bigamy, oops polygamy, is apparently alive and well in certain rural parts of this state.
After we moved here it was definitely an adjustment. What do you mean no Chinese food delivery? Wait, no Chinese food or food delivery for that matter? Where is the valet parking station at Nordstrom? Umm, actually - where is Nordstrom? And what is PC time and why does that mean we have to wait all day for a guy who is coming to finish painting when he said he'd be here at 9. According to the painter he said 9 ish which meant noon and lunch. We definitely had some adjustments to make. To us, not Utah.
Somehow we convinced C, the Bonus Boy, to join us here. He was a trooper and actually, he and I share more stories about year 1 than the SO and I do. The Bonus Boy tagged along on many adventures in finding grocery stores, drycleaners and colleges for him. As payback I drove him when he was looking for a certain tatoo shop in the Big City down the canyon as well as a reputable "piercer" for his nose. And no, that last thing never happened. We tried to navigate the slopes together and he was a saint one day at a certain ski resort while helping me with my yard sale (ski term). Naturally he got Child of the Year that year. His sisters still don't understand it.
It was a learning curve to be sure. First of all, the if/then algorythm that applied to liquor at the time. State liquor stores and their strange hours; club memberships and the Wall of Zion required in restaurants to shield diners from seeing the creation and pouring of libations. Don't get me started on the state holidays that cause everything to shut down. Life is rough if you don't have access to one of those special calendars. And when you move here with dogs from out of state that need to be licensed the first time you license them you have to drive to the County Seat and do it in person. (Yes, we are a rarity; we license our dogs.) The directions I was given to get there included passing The Spring Chicken Inn and some ranch whose name escapes me. This was a far cry from Southern California or any of my prior life except maybe college.
We bought the gas guzzling four wheel drive vehicles much to the chagrin of our so-called support group. They became believers after visiting us during the winter and trying to navigate our driveway in rental cars. Over the years the liquor laws have become more user friendly. And we now get pizza delivered. A new Nordstrom opened and when I went to their pre-opening Gala they had valet parking. The dog licensing is done at the vets and painters, among others, actually show up when they say they are going to.
So here we are six years later pondering potentially a move which I was game for until I started thinking about how great living here has been. You see, Utah is the type of state where you can get involved and actually make a difference. Today I shared a lunch table with a gubernatorial candidate and some very successful business people. (I still am not sure how I fit in, I am thinking I was there as the entertainment.) He is an engaging and terrific guy, very earnest about the quality of life in this state and improving it for the citizens. We talked about community needs and our interests in the community. The group talked about how tough it is to run or own a business in this economic environment. And we talked about family. Which took me back to my own and their support for this life the SO and I have made here. Now, when they bring up Utah and their wishes to move here we really enjoy hearing the envy in their voices. It is our home, not a home away from home but our home.
Friday, September 3, 2010
Waning Summer Days and Waxing Poetic
I can't believe it is Labor Day weekend. Where did this summer go? Where we live people are still using their golf clubs as they talk about ski season. I just want to stop time and cram a whole summer into this weekend. And my version of summer, like most peoples, goes back to childhood. So here it is:
1) Go to the beach, get tossed around by waves and stung by jellyfish. (Most summers were spent on an East Coast beach.) The best I can do here is go to our sports club pool, maybe get splashed a lot by kids as they come off the slippery slide and burn my bare feet on the concrete deck. Actually, maybe I should go down the slippery slide for the wave effect. That is if the weather cooperates. And does Old Bay Seasoning reduce the sting of the burn just like it did that of the jellyfish?
Go to the pool, let kids splash me, go down the slippery slide and burn feet. Done!
2) Attend a crab fest. Now this one I can cross off my list. There are a group of folks here in Utah that grew up in Maryland, Delaware or the Jersey Shore. We order a bushel of crabs and have them shipped out for an end of summer crab fest. 36 hours from the Chesapeake Bay to our tummies. We go a little upscale for my taste, no newspaper on the tables - brown wrapping paper. And some decor too. Wine, bottled water and beers; it used to be just beer. One of the hosts made hush puppies which I could go on and on about (I just love them.) There is some competition regionally. I uphold the SMIB (Southern Maryland In-Bred) traditions even though my parents were not from Maryland at all but upstate NY. Well - we could give my father credit for being a Marylander, being a Naval Academy grad and all; thus Mom gets a default claim too.
Old Bay seasoning rules the evening for SMIBs as do paper towels and the aforementioned newspaper. The Jersey Shore folks (not Snookie or her lowbrow friends) somehow eat everything without the huge mess, wearing white pants even. The Delaware people are the good conversationalists while the Marylanders don't talk, don't leave the table and don't really move come to think of it. The SMIBs in particular could do this for hours on end.
Crab fest - done! Need I say more?
3) Roast marsh mellows on the beach and make s'mores. This I can do in my backyard except again the darn beach part. I guess we could turn on the sprinklers or maybe put on one of those soothing "Nature Sounds" Cds, looping ocean noises. That might be the better way to go, more green.
Mmmm, s'mores. I need to go to the store for fresh supplies. Done!
4) Complain about the masses of people at the beach and the lack of parking. On a much smaller level we can easily do this here. In our town Labor Day is known as Miner's Day and it is a HUGE deal. Miner's Breakfast in City Park, a fun run, a parade down Main Street and the Running of the Balls.
The Running of the Balls is an event where they release something like 2000"sponsored" tennis balls from the top of Main Street in a race to the bottom. The winning balls get prizes for their "sponsors" and are a source of local pride. We learned the hard way not to take a lab to this event. They go crazy trying to chase the balls. The Brown Dog aka the PC Purebred couldn't care less. But I digress. The local festivities create parking nightmares and masses of people in small places. And that doesn't include the whole weekend's festivities such as the famous sheep herding dog trials or Swiss Days.
We've got the complaining covered. Done!
5) Run around with sparklers at the end of the night while the adults visit and have a cocktail. The S.O. bought Tiki Torches this summer so I am thinking lighting them counts. It is times like this that he totally channels my father who never thought it was a party or holiday unless you had Tiki Torches going. And we could have a fire going and enjoy a cocktail or maybe some leftover beer from the crab fest (keeping the SMIB traditions going.)
So it is a more adult version of the sparklers and the same visiting traditions of years past. Done and done!
6) Go to bed exhausted and sun kissed from all of the activities. Exhaustion is easily covered, I can do that well. Sun kissed is not that politically correct but I have tons of sunscreen and will sneak in a little summer color one way or another. It'll be a fitful sleep, just like the old days. Dreaming of ocean waves, Maryland crab, having a visit. All the best parts of summer for me.
Exhaustion and appearance of sun kissed. Done!
I feel much better about my summer having jotted all of this down. So it is possible to recreate a childhood summer or Labor Day weekend, even 2000 miles away, minus the ocean. Now if we could fly in the brothers for the ritual family fights, food fight and softball games I'd be set.
1) Go to the beach, get tossed around by waves and stung by jellyfish. (Most summers were spent on an East Coast beach.) The best I can do here is go to our sports club pool, maybe get splashed a lot by kids as they come off the slippery slide and burn my bare feet on the concrete deck. Actually, maybe I should go down the slippery slide for the wave effect. That is if the weather cooperates. And does Old Bay Seasoning reduce the sting of the burn just like it did that of the jellyfish?
Go to the pool, let kids splash me, go down the slippery slide and burn feet. Done!
2) Attend a crab fest. Now this one I can cross off my list. There are a group of folks here in Utah that grew up in Maryland, Delaware or the Jersey Shore. We order a bushel of crabs and have them shipped out for an end of summer crab fest. 36 hours from the Chesapeake Bay to our tummies. We go a little upscale for my taste, no newspaper on the tables - brown wrapping paper. And some decor too. Wine, bottled water and beers; it used to be just beer. One of the hosts made hush puppies which I could go on and on about (I just love them.) There is some competition regionally. I uphold the SMIB (Southern Maryland In-Bred) traditions even though my parents were not from Maryland at all but upstate NY. Well - we could give my father credit for being a Marylander, being a Naval Academy grad and all; thus Mom gets a default claim too.
Old Bay seasoning rules the evening for SMIBs as do paper towels and the aforementioned newspaper. The Jersey Shore folks (not Snookie or her lowbrow friends) somehow eat everything without the huge mess, wearing white pants even. The Delaware people are the good conversationalists while the Marylanders don't talk, don't leave the table and don't really move come to think of it. The SMIBs in particular could do this for hours on end.
Crab fest - done! Need I say more?
3) Roast marsh mellows on the beach and make s'mores. This I can do in my backyard except again the darn beach part. I guess we could turn on the sprinklers or maybe put on one of those soothing "Nature Sounds" Cds, looping ocean noises. That might be the better way to go, more green.
Mmmm, s'mores. I need to go to the store for fresh supplies. Done!
4) Complain about the masses of people at the beach and the lack of parking. On a much smaller level we can easily do this here. In our town Labor Day is known as Miner's Day and it is a HUGE deal. Miner's Breakfast in City Park, a fun run, a parade down Main Street and the Running of the Balls.
The Running of the Balls is an event where they release something like 2000"sponsored" tennis balls from the top of Main Street in a race to the bottom. The winning balls get prizes for their "sponsors" and are a source of local pride. We learned the hard way not to take a lab to this event. They go crazy trying to chase the balls. The Brown Dog aka the PC Purebred couldn't care less. But I digress. The local festivities create parking nightmares and masses of people in small places. And that doesn't include the whole weekend's festivities such as the famous sheep herding dog trials or Swiss Days.
We've got the complaining covered. Done!
5) Run around with sparklers at the end of the night while the adults visit and have a cocktail. The S.O. bought Tiki Torches this summer so I am thinking lighting them counts. It is times like this that he totally channels my father who never thought it was a party or holiday unless you had Tiki Torches going. And we could have a fire going and enjoy a cocktail or maybe some leftover beer from the crab fest (keeping the SMIB traditions going.)
So it is a more adult version of the sparklers and the same visiting traditions of years past. Done and done!
6) Go to bed exhausted and sun kissed from all of the activities. Exhaustion is easily covered, I can do that well. Sun kissed is not that politically correct but I have tons of sunscreen and will sneak in a little summer color one way or another. It'll be a fitful sleep, just like the old days. Dreaming of ocean waves, Maryland crab, having a visit. All the best parts of summer for me.
Exhaustion and appearance of sun kissed. Done!
I feel much better about my summer having jotted all of this down. So it is possible to recreate a childhood summer or Labor Day weekend, even 2000 miles away, minus the ocean. Now if we could fly in the brothers for the ritual family fights, food fight and softball games I'd be set.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Small town girl in progress...
I live in a small town. It is a world famous town but small nonetheless. Actually, technically I live in the unincorporated part of this small town. This means if we have an emergency the sheriff comes instead of the local police force, we get reverse 911 call tests every six months and we get the small town's mailing address without the taxes. The whole community shares one school district and a common interest in maintaining the charm of the area. Sounds good so far right?
Our community has great beauty courtesy of Mother Nature. There are six seasons here: 1) Gorgeous fall, about 2 weeks long; 2) Mud season; 3) Winter aka ski season; 4) Mud season; 5) Spring, about 3 weeks long; and, 6) Summer aka golf season. Being a Pollyanna of sorts I always remind myself that mud season is what sustains the rest of the year. Even if The Black Dog loves to roll in the mud and bring it into the house. Especially then... But I digress.
In our town people actually go to the post office, run into each other and visit. The concept of "having a visit" was new to me having lived an urban and suburban life prior to moving here. The S.O. was used to this because he grew up in the Midwest where apparently visiting is done all the time with anyone who has the time. I have bumped into people at the store and gotten updates on my husband's workday which is funny because he works in the biggish city down the canyon. And all over the country for that matter.
It is the kind of community where the world famous restaurant owner/chef greets the locals by name and seats them right away. Those with reservations are seated next and the non-reservation self important types wait. And wait. (Hint, if you come here - make reservations or have a local do it.) And no one really cares who you are, what you did or who you know. The S.O. and I were out to dinner one night at one of the nicest restaurants in town. It is well regarded in the foodie world thanks to Bon Appetit among other things. As we waited for our table a Non Reservation Self Important Type pushed his way in. For a large party. The young hostess smiled and took down their name. He tried flashing a little cash. She smiled and let him know they would call him when the table was ready. Then he told her who he was, what he did for a living (worked for a major TV network) and her response? "What a great job, I am sure your family must be so proud of you..." And again said she'd call his name. We were seated and the hostess apologized for the guys behavior - which we told her was unnecessary. We had a visit with her and enjoyed a nice night.
People who live in our small town don't often go down the canyon to the biggish city unless it is for a specific reason or work. I think the beauty of our area, the drive (which isn't a big deal to us former LA folks) and all of the things going on up here make it hard to leave. But every now and then I get a yearning for the city. Work travel doesn't count because you really don't get the time to appreciate whichever city you are in. I had a little island fever. The S.O. was also feeling that way so down the canyon we went to the biggish city. He kept referring to it as a daytrip.
We went to a larger outdoor mall and decided to catch a movie which we did. We asked the ticket taker about the movie we picked, expecting a small visit. He told us he hadn't seen the movie, then yelled "Next" even though we were the only ones in line. We walked around and then went to dinner in a different part of town at a Brazilian grill. The S.O. has recently been waxing nostalgic about his time spent in Brazil and Argentina so this seemed like a good idea. (P.S. I think he doesn't go into details about those years due to an agreement with certain large "agencies" even though he swears he was just opening banks for a US Corp.) We were seated and our server asked where we were from. When we told her her eyes widened and she said "...wow...you came down from there???" We said yes and commented that it was only a 20 minute drive. Then she asked what brought us there and the S.O. explained that he had been craving grilled meat Brazilian style. Then they started to have a visit, half in English and half in Spanish (he doesn't speak Portuguese that well). Except that her manager noticed. And interrupted us to check on the service. And moved her along.
We had a great dinner although we noticed very little visiting going on. Even among the patrons themselves. Naturally we visited about this. That's when I realized I might actually be turning into a small town person. I like knowing the people at the grocery store and knowing what is going on with the county budget. I like running into my friend's daughter and realizing she is supposed to be in school and seeing the panicked look on her face when she realizes I am having lunch with her mom that day. I see how addictive the small town feeling is and being a private person - I am still working on "visiting".
Our community has great beauty courtesy of Mother Nature. There are six seasons here: 1) Gorgeous fall, about 2 weeks long; 2) Mud season; 3) Winter aka ski season; 4) Mud season; 5) Spring, about 3 weeks long; and, 6) Summer aka golf season. Being a Pollyanna of sorts I always remind myself that mud season is what sustains the rest of the year. Even if The Black Dog loves to roll in the mud and bring it into the house. Especially then... But I digress.
In our town people actually go to the post office, run into each other and visit. The concept of "having a visit" was new to me having lived an urban and suburban life prior to moving here. The S.O. was used to this because he grew up in the Midwest where apparently visiting is done all the time with anyone who has the time. I have bumped into people at the store and gotten updates on my husband's workday which is funny because he works in the biggish city down the canyon. And all over the country for that matter.
It is the kind of community where the world famous restaurant owner/chef greets the locals by name and seats them right away. Those with reservations are seated next and the non-reservation self important types wait. And wait. (Hint, if you come here - make reservations or have a local do it.) And no one really cares who you are, what you did or who you know. The S.O. and I were out to dinner one night at one of the nicest restaurants in town. It is well regarded in the foodie world thanks to Bon Appetit among other things. As we waited for our table a Non Reservation Self Important Type pushed his way in. For a large party. The young hostess smiled and took down their name. He tried flashing a little cash. She smiled and let him know they would call him when the table was ready. Then he told her who he was, what he did for a living (worked for a major TV network) and her response? "What a great job, I am sure your family must be so proud of you..." And again said she'd call his name. We were seated and the hostess apologized for the guys behavior - which we told her was unnecessary. We had a visit with her and enjoyed a nice night.
People who live in our small town don't often go down the canyon to the biggish city unless it is for a specific reason or work. I think the beauty of our area, the drive (which isn't a big deal to us former LA folks) and all of the things going on up here make it hard to leave. But every now and then I get a yearning for the city. Work travel doesn't count because you really don't get the time to appreciate whichever city you are in. I had a little island fever. The S.O. was also feeling that way so down the canyon we went to the biggish city. He kept referring to it as a daytrip.
We went to a larger outdoor mall and decided to catch a movie which we did. We asked the ticket taker about the movie we picked, expecting a small visit. He told us he hadn't seen the movie, then yelled "Next" even though we were the only ones in line. We walked around and then went to dinner in a different part of town at a Brazilian grill. The S.O. has recently been waxing nostalgic about his time spent in Brazil and Argentina so this seemed like a good idea. (P.S. I think he doesn't go into details about those years due to an agreement with certain large "agencies" even though he swears he was just opening banks for a US Corp.) We were seated and our server asked where we were from. When we told her her eyes widened and she said "...wow...you came down from there???" We said yes and commented that it was only a 20 minute drive. Then she asked what brought us there and the S.O. explained that he had been craving grilled meat Brazilian style. Then they started to have a visit, half in English and half in Spanish (he doesn't speak Portuguese that well). Except that her manager noticed. And interrupted us to check on the service. And moved her along.
We had a great dinner although we noticed very little visiting going on. Even among the patrons themselves. Naturally we visited about this. That's when I realized I might actually be turning into a small town person. I like knowing the people at the grocery store and knowing what is going on with the county budget. I like running into my friend's daughter and realizing she is supposed to be in school and seeing the panicked look on her face when she realizes I am having lunch with her mom that day. I see how addictive the small town feeling is and being a private person - I am still working on "visiting".
Monday, August 23, 2010
Hurricane Allie and Hurricane Katrina; or How We Came to be the Human Companions of The Black Dog
I have come to realize that the smallest member of our family - aka "The Pack" - really rules the roost. We'd like to think that the Significant Other ("S.O.") and I are in charge here but the facts belie this. Sure, we provide a home, food, beds, rides wherever and whenever they are needed. We shell out money to whomever needs it for things that the littlest one thinks we have to have on hand. We make sure the house is always at the appropriate temperature no matter what time of year. We watch things on tv that won't be too disturbing and put on music that is soothing and hopefully, will induce some sleep. We try to keep things on a schedule and make the household routine as predictable as possible. No, this isn't for a child but for our two dogs.
The Black Dog came into our lives a few months after The White Dog aka Genie the Wonderdog left us to go play Chase in Heaven. The Brown Dog didn't understand this and was grief stricken at the loss of his playmate. He dropped ten pounds in thirty days. (I sure could use that diet.) We started to look for another dog; visited various rescues and shelters where The Brown Dog immediately rejected all potential fur-blings. I searched the Internet and kept coming back to the same dog over and over. I wanted another lab mix which she was. I wanted a black one because of the amount of black clothes I have; leftovers from my L.A. days. And she was smiling in the adoption picture. That sealed the deal for me but I needed the S.O. to agree and The Brown One's stamp of approval. Well obviously she passed the S.O.'s requirements and The Brown Dog's sniff test, so to speak. The cats didn't get a vote but The Black Dog set about to win them over and did. So here she is.
We know everything that has happened to her since July 11th, 2007 but only bits and pieces of her life prior. Going backwards from that date we know that we were matched with her at the University of Utah where she was in a testing program for human painkillers. They identified her as potentially a great companion and trained her with the help of Intermountain Therapy Dogs. (The joke is that she has been to rehab and when she is whiny - she's got the Jones.) The U got her from a shelter in September of the prior year where she was considered to be unadoptable and had languished for a few months. Prior to that she was adopted out to a ranch and kept escaping during storms. And the rancher who didn't claim her at the shelter? He/she got her from Best Friends where The Black Dog racked up frequent flyer miles coming into Utah from Houston, Texas in October of 2005. So our sweet Allie is a Hurricane Katrina Rescue as she came here from a shelter that was holding a number of rescued dogs from Louisiana.
What we also know is that The Black Dog shakes unbelievably and digs whenever she hears sirens or wind or a combination of the two. We know that thunder makes her dig dig dig and she is inconsolable during heavy rainstorms. We also know that she knew her way around a house the minute we brought her home. She immediately settled in the kitchen in front of the stove. (Some days it seems like she has never left that spot.) She knew to go to the backdoor when she wants out and she definitely knew all about dogbeds. She has had a litter of pups and she loves children. Our vet told us she had reconstructive surgery on one of her rear legs and that she'll always have a little limp. He also told us she was a purebred English Lab to the best of his knowledge. My brother, the hunter, saw that she points and does other things important to hunters. The Black Dog adores The Brown Dog, loves body hugs and is an early riser. If we were to write a bio about her on an Internet Dating Site she'd be married by now, she is that lovable. (Despite what the S.O. says.)
With all of this The Black Dog has us fulfilling her every need at all hours of the day. As I finish writing this she is laying on my legs, on the couch watching Marley and Me with the S.O. We, oops he, turns the volume down during the loudest barking scenes otherwise she gets too wound up and barks at The Brown Dog. She wakes us up at 5:30 am on the dot for fear she'll die from hunger while we sleep. She sniffs the grocery bags when I come home, looking hopefully for new bones and peanut butter. And she starts the Happy Hour Dance at 5 pm on the dot because obviously Happy Hour is when dogs get fed so they don't starve overnight. The S.O. seems to think Happy Hour is a whole other event that takes place after work on Fridays, sometimes at The Jeremy Club.
We searched the various Katrina websites for her original human companions as did the shelter in Houston, Best Friends and the U. We just couldn't imagine separating this gorgeous girl from her first family. Every year around the anniversary of the Hurricane I take a little time to think about those people and pray for them. I hope they are well and thriving like this beautiful girl who has been such a blessing to us.
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Star Light, Star Bright...
The other night I did the unthinkable in my house. I actually got up in the middle of the night to let The Brown Dog out. The Brown Dog is getting older and like the other man in the house - needs a trip to the restroom during the night.
This usually brings on a battle of wills between the Significant Other and me. Unspoken of course unless the S.O. is really irritated. The word is out; I am not the heavy sleeper that the S.O. thinks I am. You see, as soon as I detect the Brown Head resting gently on my side of the bed I let out a little heavy breath or gentle snore. I can't figure out how the Brown Eyes staring at me make so much noise, they are the loudest thing ever and yes, they wake me up. But I feign deep sleep. Then The Brown Dog sort of rubs against my side of the bed. So I roll over and throw in another snore. The Brown Dog tries a few more things while I sort of flail out my arms and throw it into high gear; faking that I am in the deepest of sleeps. That is when The Black Dog gets in on the action. She simply goes to the S.O.'s side of the bed and barks at him. At that point he gets up and once he is on his feet I mumble - "I'll get it". He barks "I am UP!" at me and lets them out. It's all what make my life a charmed life right?
We used to have two cats who were part of the package when we married. In the S.O.'s earlier life his daughters were concerned that he would be lonely as a single guy. Obviously they hadn't watched Oprah's stories about divorced successful men and their eligibility. They talked him into getting a cat. Actually, the single cute woman at a pet adoption event talked him into allowing two cats to adopt him. So the cats won, she won and he lost. Though ultimately this made him the winner because of me. But that is a whole other blog. At any rate, the cats became my co-conspirators in this faking sleep thing.
One or the other of them would sleep on my feet or at my side. They would get on the bed during the night and snuggle in. The real reason they did this was so they could rule the dogs. So when The Brown Dog would start his "I need to go out routine" the cat of the evening would take a swipe at him; thus accelerating The Black Dog's barking and waking up the S.O. In the interest of full disclosure I have to admit, I still "slept" through this. In those instances the S.O.'s response when I would mumble that I'd get up was always "I am UP and how can you sleep through this?" Some nights I would tell him I heard barking and thought I was dreaming. Some mornings I'd say "I dreamt I was volunteering at a shelter last night, did I kick much in my sleep?" ...After posting this you'll find me in the confessional at St. Mary's...
Well, here we are a few years later and catless. The White Cat (most recently) and The Black Cat are at the Great Cattery in the Sky. Now I've lost my partners in crime and feline force field. It's all back on me again. Plus the dogs are older and more insistent about the night-time backyard visits. So the other night when The Brown Dog started his routine I thought "I can do this. Let the S.O. sleep and I'll be the good wife and let the beast out."
I got up, The Black Dog eyed me warily and moved in case I tripped over her. I went to the backdoor and let The Brown One out. My mistake was that I looked up. What a gorgeous night! Who knew? The stars were so bright and intense it seemed like I could just touch them. And the Milky Way? It cut a beautiful path across the sky. I was awed and enthralled. I sat outside and took it all in. The Brown Dog sniffed around, did his thing and patrolled the yard. It was so peaceful and inspiring.
It started to get a little cold so the dog and I went inside. I immediately woke the S.O. up to see the Milky Way and he wasn't as awed or inspired as I was. In fact - he never went outside. He watched an old movie in our den after it became apparent he was wide awake. The dogs and I slept peacefully. I am pretty sure they were dreaming of the cats playing among the stars. The next morning I mentioned to the S.O. how much I enjoyed the nighttime sky and that I'd be happy to get up with the dogs from now on. His response? "I think I'll just let the dogs out at night. You need your sleep..."
And they say reverse psychology doesn't work...
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Ode to Genie the Wonderdog.
One of my favorite books is called A Dog Year by Jon Katz. It was also made into a movie on HBO but personally I think the book is much better. I read the book at the recommendation of my vet in West Los Angeles over ten years ago. I just loved this book because it was so similar to the story of my dog Genie and me. It was a story of love at first sight.
When she picked me out she was a 10 week old puppy; half Yellow Lab Half Australian Shepherd. It was at my niece's soccer game in Escondido. A lady was selling puppies for ten dollars. I had just given my younger niece a dollar so I only had nine. That is how I got the nine dollar dog. She was so sweet while outsmarting me and everyone else. I was living in an apartment in Brentwood, California at the time. Urban West Los Angeles. Not the best for a dog that thrived on herding and hunting. That first year was a battle of wills. She could open doors, boxes, refrigerators, trash cans, sliding doors and an armoir door. I still don't understand that one.
We walked and walked. She chased anything on wheels and runners with poor form. She was always on leash but still managed to give a little chase even if I was paying attention at the time. She was very particular. She hid her toys and bones all over my apartment and then spent time finding them or would pull them out as if to show me she had a stash. I had hardwood floors. I would wake up at 3 am to the sound of her throwing a tennis ball up in the air; it would bounce down the hall three or four times - then run to get it. Because she needed so much exercise we discovered a park that had 4 baseball fields. She ran and ran. She ran with bicyclists although they were on the other side of the fences which worked out well for everyone. She loved to dance in the water shot off by the sprinklers for the baseball fields.
She was graceful and athletic although not everyone saw that in her. They saw a crazy dog. After I couldn't recall her one day when she chased a runner my vet recommended the Trainer to the Stars and this book - A Dog Year. The Trainer was great. Thanks to him we all survived. He taught me how to walk her, to anticipate her, he showed me her instincts and gave me advice on how to corral those. He taught me that she had to work for literally everything. She was much happier after this as was I. I got in much better physical shape. I saw nature in Brentwood and Santa Monica that I am sure most people have never noticed. We would go to a dog park in Santa Monica at 5:30 am every day. It was by a rec center that opened at 6 for free coffee and showers for the homeless people. Genie and I got to know many of them. My friends were taken aback when we would go to the local grocery store and the guy panhandling out front would greet me and ask where Genie was.
I met Rosie Grier because of her. He called her Birddog Genie; he would honk at us from his maroon Cadillac Escalade if he saw us walking on San Vicente or Barrington. After awhile I met someone - the Significant Other. We got engaged, married and moved to the suburbs. We had a big backyard (by L.A. standards) with fruit trees, birds and squirrels. The S.O. came with two cats. We all settled in together.
The Trainer to the Stars had recommended that down the road I consider getting another dog as Genie needed a pack. The time was right; we went to shelters on weekends and took her with us to pick this new addition. In Glendale we found The Brown Dog. He was a 90 lb. junkyard dog; big body pillow. He was just one year old. The S.O. was traveling so I took him home. The dogs did well that first day although Genie kept disappearing to the back yard and coming in with dirt on her. She was hiding all of her toys and bones in the backyard by burying them. I had to leave for a few hours so I caged The Brown Dog. He seemed fine. I got home and both dogs greeted me at the door. This went on for a couple of days until I gave up. I still can't figure out how she unlocked a cage that had two sliding/reversing mechanisms.
She barked frantically at anyone that came within 4 feet of our front door. But if they came through it they were fine. She scared people who didn't know her; those that did - loved her. After another year we moved to Utah. The first year we were here our backyard wasn't fenced so we walked and hiked with the dogs. Always on leash. Genie would still stash her things through out the house and pull them out when she needed them. Part of her nightly routine was to hide her things so The Brown Dog couldn't get them. If someone came to the house that she decided she liked she would go find one of her stashed items and bring it to them as a gift.
Her herding and hunting instincts remained so strong. She also was so protective of our pack. One morning at about 5 we woke up to her gutteral low growling. The S.O. got up to look outside; she wedged herself between him and the window and used her head to herd him away from the window. The cats got curious; she herded them and The Brown Dog away too. I went into another room and saw that we had a moose in our backyard. She didn't let anyone near the rear of the house until he left; about six weeks later. She did the same one day when we had a snake. The S.O. was out of town on business, she blocked our rear step to the backyard and wouldn't move. Then I realized that the stick on the rocks was moving, fast and away from our house.
So the housecleaners would come we took the dogs to dog day care once a week. They were always happy and exhausted when I picked them up. One day I got there and Genie was in the office area with R the owner. R was cracking up. She would leave Genie in the far back yard most of the day to hunt and sunbathe; then she'd cycle other dogs in and out with Genie for exercise. One day she left Genie out back with a door sized gate to the building closed; then the dogs were in gated areas off of a gated central area. R was doing some paperwork and realized it was too quiet. Genie had let 8 other dogs out to the backyard; except The Brown Dog who was whining away. They changed their gating since then by moving the closing mechanisms from 4-4 1/2 feet to 6 feet high and use leashes to further secure the gates.
She did bite someone once. The S.O. was walking both dogs (on leash as always) when a neighbor's offleash dog got entangled with ours. We didn't know this neighbor. He reached into the dogs and started kicking and punching our dogs to get his out of the middle. Both of our dogs had defensive bruising along their bodies. The Brown Dog got kicked in the head and ended up with a cut eye and bruised cheek/jaw in addition to cracked ribs. Genie was limping; it turned out she was kicked so hard repeatedly in the leg that her knee was completed torn out. She ended up having surgery and was able to recuperate over time. The neighbor was bitten and we called the sheriff because some punches got thrown. The sheriff attributed the bite to Genie's being protective of The S.O. and The Brown Dog. It was awful. The S.O. still doesn't know why he didn't just drop our dogs leashes so they could run free instead of being vulnerable the way they were. By the way, his dog was fine.
Well, the sad news is that shortly after she recovered from her surgery she started having problems with her neck. We found out that she had a tumor in her neck that was penetrating the spine. The vet gave her a couple of days; we ended up with three good weeks. She was puppylike and loving; waking me up with a wet nose every morning. She had one bad day and that was the day we had to put her to sleep. We have a great vet - Dr. L. who put a blanket outside on the grass overlooking the mountain tops. She laid down, put her head in my lap; licked my hand and was gone. This dog was so special to me; she was sensitive to my moods, could make me laugh and cry, she really enjoyed life. She smiled.
Since her passing The Brown Dog grieved as much as we did if not more. The two dogs were very attached; him more than her. Every now and then he'll sniff something under a couch or bed or hidden in the retaining wall in the backyard and pull out one of her toys or bones. It's like she left them there for him.
The Brown Dog is a great dog and very different from her. He is snoozing at my side as I write this as is The Black Dog (who is a whole other blog). Everyone who has read A Dog Year and knew Genie says that the dog Devon/Orson was her. She was definitely a once in a lifetime dog and as I look at our other once in a lifetime dogs I am so happy to have had the pleasure of her company. Genie would've been eleven this week (I can never figure out the dog years) and is probably enjoying chasing bicyclists, herding cats and playing fetch among the stars.
When she picked me out she was a 10 week old puppy; half Yellow Lab Half Australian Shepherd. It was at my niece's soccer game in Escondido. A lady was selling puppies for ten dollars. I had just given my younger niece a dollar so I only had nine. That is how I got the nine dollar dog. She was so sweet while outsmarting me and everyone else. I was living in an apartment in Brentwood, California at the time. Urban West Los Angeles. Not the best for a dog that thrived on herding and hunting. That first year was a battle of wills. She could open doors, boxes, refrigerators, trash cans, sliding doors and an armoir door. I still don't understand that one.
We walked and walked. She chased anything on wheels and runners with poor form. She was always on leash but still managed to give a little chase even if I was paying attention at the time. She was very particular. She hid her toys and bones all over my apartment and then spent time finding them or would pull them out as if to show me she had a stash. I had hardwood floors. I would wake up at 3 am to the sound of her throwing a tennis ball up in the air; it would bounce down the hall three or four times - then run to get it. Because she needed so much exercise we discovered a park that had 4 baseball fields. She ran and ran. She ran with bicyclists although they were on the other side of the fences which worked out well for everyone. She loved to dance in the water shot off by the sprinklers for the baseball fields.
She was graceful and athletic although not everyone saw that in her. They saw a crazy dog. After I couldn't recall her one day when she chased a runner my vet recommended the Trainer to the Stars and this book - A Dog Year. The Trainer was great. Thanks to him we all survived. He taught me how to walk her, to anticipate her, he showed me her instincts and gave me advice on how to corral those. He taught me that she had to work for literally everything. She was much happier after this as was I. I got in much better physical shape. I saw nature in Brentwood and Santa Monica that I am sure most people have never noticed. We would go to a dog park in Santa Monica at 5:30 am every day. It was by a rec center that opened at 6 for free coffee and showers for the homeless people. Genie and I got to know many of them. My friends were taken aback when we would go to the local grocery store and the guy panhandling out front would greet me and ask where Genie was.
I met Rosie Grier because of her. He called her Birddog Genie; he would honk at us from his maroon Cadillac Escalade if he saw us walking on San Vicente or Barrington. After awhile I met someone - the Significant Other. We got engaged, married and moved to the suburbs. We had a big backyard (by L.A. standards) with fruit trees, birds and squirrels. The S.O. came with two cats. We all settled in together.
The Trainer to the Stars had recommended that down the road I consider getting another dog as Genie needed a pack. The time was right; we went to shelters on weekends and took her with us to pick this new addition. In Glendale we found The Brown Dog. He was a 90 lb. junkyard dog; big body pillow. He was just one year old. The S.O. was traveling so I took him home. The dogs did well that first day although Genie kept disappearing to the back yard and coming in with dirt on her. She was hiding all of her toys and bones in the backyard by burying them. I had to leave for a few hours so I caged The Brown Dog. He seemed fine. I got home and both dogs greeted me at the door. This went on for a couple of days until I gave up. I still can't figure out how she unlocked a cage that had two sliding/reversing mechanisms.
She barked frantically at anyone that came within 4 feet of our front door. But if they came through it they were fine. She scared people who didn't know her; those that did - loved her. After another year we moved to Utah. The first year we were here our backyard wasn't fenced so we walked and hiked with the dogs. Always on leash. Genie would still stash her things through out the house and pull them out when she needed them. Part of her nightly routine was to hide her things so The Brown Dog couldn't get them. If someone came to the house that she decided she liked she would go find one of her stashed items and bring it to them as a gift.
Her herding and hunting instincts remained so strong. She also was so protective of our pack. One morning at about 5 we woke up to her gutteral low growling. The S.O. got up to look outside; she wedged herself between him and the window and used her head to herd him away from the window. The cats got curious; she herded them and The Brown Dog away too. I went into another room and saw that we had a moose in our backyard. She didn't let anyone near the rear of the house until he left; about six weeks later. She did the same one day when we had a snake. The S.O. was out of town on business, she blocked our rear step to the backyard and wouldn't move. Then I realized that the stick on the rocks was moving, fast and away from our house.
So the housecleaners would come we took the dogs to dog day care once a week. They were always happy and exhausted when I picked them up. One day I got there and Genie was in the office area with R the owner. R was cracking up. She would leave Genie in the far back yard most of the day to hunt and sunbathe; then she'd cycle other dogs in and out with Genie for exercise. One day she left Genie out back with a door sized gate to the building closed; then the dogs were in gated areas off of a gated central area. R was doing some paperwork and realized it was too quiet. Genie had let 8 other dogs out to the backyard; except The Brown Dog who was whining away. They changed their gating since then by moving the closing mechanisms from 4-4 1/2 feet to 6 feet high and use leashes to further secure the gates.
She did bite someone once. The S.O. was walking both dogs (on leash as always) when a neighbor's offleash dog got entangled with ours. We didn't know this neighbor. He reached into the dogs and started kicking and punching our dogs to get his out of the middle. Both of our dogs had defensive bruising along their bodies. The Brown Dog got kicked in the head and ended up with a cut eye and bruised cheek/jaw in addition to cracked ribs. Genie was limping; it turned out she was kicked so hard repeatedly in the leg that her knee was completed torn out. She ended up having surgery and was able to recuperate over time. The neighbor was bitten and we called the sheriff because some punches got thrown. The sheriff attributed the bite to Genie's being protective of The S.O. and The Brown Dog. It was awful. The S.O. still doesn't know why he didn't just drop our dogs leashes so they could run free instead of being vulnerable the way they were. By the way, his dog was fine.
Well, the sad news is that shortly after she recovered from her surgery she started having problems with her neck. We found out that she had a tumor in her neck that was penetrating the spine. The vet gave her a couple of days; we ended up with three good weeks. She was puppylike and loving; waking me up with a wet nose every morning. She had one bad day and that was the day we had to put her to sleep. We have a great vet - Dr. L. who put a blanket outside on the grass overlooking the mountain tops. She laid down, put her head in my lap; licked my hand and was gone. This dog was so special to me; she was sensitive to my moods, could make me laugh and cry, she really enjoyed life. She smiled.
Since her passing The Brown Dog grieved as much as we did if not more. The two dogs were very attached; him more than her. Every now and then he'll sniff something under a couch or bed or hidden in the retaining wall in the backyard and pull out one of her toys or bones. It's like she left them there for him.
The Brown Dog is a great dog and very different from her. He is snoozing at my side as I write this as is The Black Dog (who is a whole other blog). Everyone who has read A Dog Year and knew Genie says that the dog Devon/Orson was her. She was definitely a once in a lifetime dog and as I look at our other once in a lifetime dogs I am so happy to have had the pleasure of her company. Genie would've been eleven this week (I can never figure out the dog years) and is probably enjoying chasing bicyclists, herding cats and playing fetch among the stars.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
My Mom and My Journey - Thanks to Her
As the only daughter in a family of six kids I had many roles assigned to me. I was a princess who danced on her father's feet and was taken to fundraising fashion shows by her mother. I played point guard in basketball and short fielder in softball for the brothers. I was also assigned the role of a defender in an ongoing in-house soccer shootout (sorry Mom) that took place in various family rooms and homes all over the country. And finally, co-conspirator and house cleaner after food fights. I never took out the garbage until I went to college and my husband still points to my deficiencies in this area.
My mother is an Irish American Princess which meant as a child I never learned how to sew. I picked up my cooking skills courtesy of our Italian neighbors, friends' mothers and now, girlfriends or the Food Network. (Who knew that as an adult I would love to cook as a form of relaxation?) Mom was just too busy playing referee, driver, AF wife and bridge. There wasn't a lot of discussion about what I would do or be when I grew up but whatever it was, I was expected to do well.
Mom worked for GE in the "business systems area" right after she graduated from college with a degree in Applied Mathematics. She was there for two years, waiting for Dad to graduate from Annapolis and planning their wedding for that same summer. Naturally she expected that I would follow her path and timeline. She put her career on hold and didn't work again for several years at which time she worked preparing taxes and in accounting, part-time. (She continues to do so to this day.) So when I started working in commercial finance and shocked everyone with my career aspirations she was encouraging but this wasn't exactly in her plans for me. What she realizes now is she and Dad created choices for me which weren't available to her for the most part.
The other night I went to a Girls Night Out to watch our local Triple A baseball team play. We had a box, courtesy of a work friend's law firm. She also invited other attorneys and local businesswomen for a night of networking and chitchat. I have to admit, I had to motivate myself to get there. It had been a long day on top of what was shaping up to be a long week. And I only knew two of the attendees and wasn't in a schmoozy mood.
When I got there I was greeted by the cutest 6 year old. My friend S was there and asked our hostess if she could bring her daughter. The little one is the oldest of 3 and has 2 younger brothers. Her mom has been working late on a case most nights and hadn't been home to tuck in her children before they went to bed. I asked her daughter if she was excited to watch the baseball game and her response? "...I am excited for time away from those boys!!!" She just killed me. I told her I grew up with brothers too and I know how sometimes a girl just needs to be a girl. We talked about whether or not to play sports, if she would be a lawyer like her mom, why couldn't she play professional baseball like the guys we were watching and what color of cotton candy would be good to eat.
The other guests arrived and the discussion was minimal around work; The talk was focused on vacations, family and managing our time. We talked about what we all do to relax. This group of women, despite common careers - had very different upbringings and family lives. Some were married with children, others never married or were divorced. I learned so much that night that I would never normally know about these women. It was a night of sharing our personal lives and dreams.
One attorney lives by herself on a ranch purchased post-divorce and according to her it was "Eat, Pray, Love" without the travel or men. Eat whatever she has on hand or starve. Pray that she can learn how to repair fences and bail hay or hire the right help. Love her neighbors who help out with everything as she learns the ropes. Another spends her vacations with her family touring minor league ballparks all over the US (I don't get it.) S and her family camp whenever they can. Our hostess takes trips that are spontaneous; usually going solo because she is the easiest person she knows to travel with. One lady is training for RagBrie, a bike race across Iowa. Who knew?
What was intriguing to me that night was the choices they all made in their lives and continue to make. The doors that were opened to them and the doors they are opening for their children. I look at Mom and her friends and wonder what they would have done with their lives in this age. They could have raised families or pursued careers or both. They might have taken a journey like that of the movie Eat, Pray, Love or maybe they would have created their own version of that journey like my attorney oops - rancher - friend. Me? I have been able to pursue a career, learn how to cook, marry a great guy who luckily for me takes out the trash and travel quite a bit. So maybe it was good for me that growing up there wasn't a lot of talk about what I would do or be when I grew up. What I thought was a lack of interest was probably the most interesting thing Mom did for me. So now I am able to eat, pray and love - thanks to the life she encouraged me to live.
My mother is an Irish American Princess which meant as a child I never learned how to sew. I picked up my cooking skills courtesy of our Italian neighbors, friends' mothers and now, girlfriends or the Food Network. (Who knew that as an adult I would love to cook as a form of relaxation?) Mom was just too busy playing referee, driver, AF wife and bridge. There wasn't a lot of discussion about what I would do or be when I grew up but whatever it was, I was expected to do well.
Mom worked for GE in the "business systems area" right after she graduated from college with a degree in Applied Mathematics. She was there for two years, waiting for Dad to graduate from Annapolis and planning their wedding for that same summer. Naturally she expected that I would follow her path and timeline. She put her career on hold and didn't work again for several years at which time she worked preparing taxes and in accounting, part-time. (She continues to do so to this day.) So when I started working in commercial finance and shocked everyone with my career aspirations she was encouraging but this wasn't exactly in her plans for me. What she realizes now is she and Dad created choices for me which weren't available to her for the most part.
The other night I went to a Girls Night Out to watch our local Triple A baseball team play. We had a box, courtesy of a work friend's law firm. She also invited other attorneys and local businesswomen for a night of networking and chitchat. I have to admit, I had to motivate myself to get there. It had been a long day on top of what was shaping up to be a long week. And I only knew two of the attendees and wasn't in a schmoozy mood.
When I got there I was greeted by the cutest 6 year old. My friend S was there and asked our hostess if she could bring her daughter. The little one is the oldest of 3 and has 2 younger brothers. Her mom has been working late on a case most nights and hadn't been home to tuck in her children before they went to bed. I asked her daughter if she was excited to watch the baseball game and her response? "...I am excited for time away from those boys!!!" She just killed me. I told her I grew up with brothers too and I know how sometimes a girl just needs to be a girl. We talked about whether or not to play sports, if she would be a lawyer like her mom, why couldn't she play professional baseball like the guys we were watching and what color of cotton candy would be good to eat.
The other guests arrived and the discussion was minimal around work; The talk was focused on vacations, family and managing our time. We talked about what we all do to relax. This group of women, despite common careers - had very different upbringings and family lives. Some were married with children, others never married or were divorced. I learned so much that night that I would never normally know about these women. It was a night of sharing our personal lives and dreams.
One attorney lives by herself on a ranch purchased post-divorce and according to her it was "Eat, Pray, Love" without the travel or men. Eat whatever she has on hand or starve. Pray that she can learn how to repair fences and bail hay or hire the right help. Love her neighbors who help out with everything as she learns the ropes. Another spends her vacations with her family touring minor league ballparks all over the US (I don't get it.) S and her family camp whenever they can. Our hostess takes trips that are spontaneous; usually going solo because she is the easiest person she knows to travel with. One lady is training for RagBrie, a bike race across Iowa. Who knew?
What was intriguing to me that night was the choices they all made in their lives and continue to make. The doors that were opened to them and the doors they are opening for their children. I look at Mom and her friends and wonder what they would have done with their lives in this age. They could have raised families or pursued careers or both. They might have taken a journey like that of the movie Eat, Pray, Love or maybe they would have created their own version of that journey like my attorney oops - rancher - friend. Me? I have been able to pursue a career, learn how to cook, marry a great guy who luckily for me takes out the trash and travel quite a bit. So maybe it was good for me that growing up there wasn't a lot of talk about what I would do or be when I grew up. What I thought was a lack of interest was probably the most interesting thing Mom did for me. So now I am able to eat, pray and love - thanks to the life she encouraged me to live.
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Class Reunions and a Girl who is still out there.
This weekend I am missing two class reunions. Both are on the same night on opposite coasts of the country. I am reluctant to share the number of years since graduation but if you are on FB you already know; it is greater than 29 and less than 31... Many of my former classmates are gearing up for the festivities and have been looking forward to them for months. The FB activity between everyone is increasing and new family pictures are being posted for sharing prior to the big weekend.
What have the last thirty years held for everyone? Sadly, we have lost some folks along the way and they will be missed; their absences noted. There have been marriages and unions, careers and children, moves and adventures. Will people share the challenges they have faced and the daily routine of their lives? Will the various cliques still stay together or will people have found other common areas that break down some of the social barriers that were in place so long ago?
My memories of high school involve meeting the other new kids at orientations for transfer students, a lot of swimming, dances, laughs and tears. The primary groups I hung out with on either coast were different from one another in a lot of ways and very similar in other ways. I like to think of myself as the "funny one" in both groups. The Marylanders were focused on academics and sports. The Californians were also academically oriented but very social too. We all supported each other and started to learn how to navigate the world together.
The classmates that I was close to and am still in touch with have gone through so much and in my view, have really risen to life's challenges. Life's tests included the cancer of a spouse, financial uncertainty, the loss of family members, divorce and unemployment. When we correspond their voices are still intact and unchanged. They share their pride in their families and their ongoing focus on a bright future. Touching base is comforting and provides laughs too. We appreciate the time we take to touch base and the encouragement or humor that we still share. Getting to know each other again brings us back to our roots.
I am sad to miss the reunions this weekend. The husband and I have other commitments and couldn't make the trip to either coast. I am going to miss the reminiscing and hugs, the music, reconnecting with folks and learning what their new view of the world is. The Significant Other would learn things about me that I have forgotten or conveniently "edited". He would've met a girl who loved to play the occasional prank joke or to Toilet Paper the house of an unsuspecting victim (hello Holy Rollers!). He would've heard about a competitor underneath a soft veneer whose biggest rival was herself in the pool. He would've learned about teachers who impacted me and probably didn't even know it (Dr. Volk, Mr. Butler, Ms. Ricalzone and Lombardi.) For me, I hope my classmates will miss the optimistic girl that loved to laugh and skip, swim her heart out and learn about life. And I hope they know she is still out there....
What have the last thirty years held for everyone? Sadly, we have lost some folks along the way and they will be missed; their absences noted. There have been marriages and unions, careers and children, moves and adventures. Will people share the challenges they have faced and the daily routine of their lives? Will the various cliques still stay together or will people have found other common areas that break down some of the social barriers that were in place so long ago?
My memories of high school involve meeting the other new kids at orientations for transfer students, a lot of swimming, dances, laughs and tears. The primary groups I hung out with on either coast were different from one another in a lot of ways and very similar in other ways. I like to think of myself as the "funny one" in both groups. The Marylanders were focused on academics and sports. The Californians were also academically oriented but very social too. We all supported each other and started to learn how to navigate the world together.
The classmates that I was close to and am still in touch with have gone through so much and in my view, have really risen to life's challenges. Life's tests included the cancer of a spouse, financial uncertainty, the loss of family members, divorce and unemployment. When we correspond their voices are still intact and unchanged. They share their pride in their families and their ongoing focus on a bright future. Touching base is comforting and provides laughs too. We appreciate the time we take to touch base and the encouragement or humor that we still share. Getting to know each other again brings us back to our roots.
I am sad to miss the reunions this weekend. The husband and I have other commitments and couldn't make the trip to either coast. I am going to miss the reminiscing and hugs, the music, reconnecting with folks and learning what their new view of the world is. The Significant Other would learn things about me that I have forgotten or conveniently "edited". He would've met a girl who loved to play the occasional prank joke or to Toilet Paper the house of an unsuspecting victim (hello Holy Rollers!). He would've heard about a competitor underneath a soft veneer whose biggest rival was herself in the pool. He would've learned about teachers who impacted me and probably didn't even know it (Dr. Volk, Mr. Butler, Ms. Ricalzone and Lombardi.) For me, I hope my classmates will miss the optimistic girl that loved to laugh and skip, swim her heart out and learn about life. And I hope they know she is still out there....
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Dancing in the Rain...
I love storms. I always have. The wind, thunder and lightning; the beat of rain against anything in its path; the smell of wet pavement or dirt. For me, stormy weather brings a feeling of being safe and of course; being cozy at home. I love seeing nature's fury and being reminded that I am only a small and temporary piece of this life.
I think this started with my early years in Ohio. One of my earliest memories is of my mother tucking my younger brother and I under Dad's workbench in the basement during a series of tornadoes. My older brothers were at school that day. The tornadoes passed; cutting a path between our neighborhood and the boys' school. I remember uprooted trees, branches everywhere and Mom's anxiety until they got home safely.
I went to college at one of the rainiest places in the Continental U.S. and never owned a raincoat or umbrella. This was a source of pride for my group of friends as we all took the same stance on the weather. Of course I didn't wear much makeup then or spend much time on my hair either. Then in my corporate life I used to travel to the Midwest frequently for work and had many turbulent flights back to Los Angeles. One was more memorable than others. It was a nighttime flight where the pilot took us up to 46,000 feet, just above the storms. You could watch the lightning glow, then flash and flatten as it reached the top of the clouds. When I shared this with one of my brothers who used to be a pilot he said those scenes were one of the benefits of the job no one told you about.
Now we live in a mountain community and we have experienced snow storms that include thunder and lightning. We get summer storms with amazing lightning and thunder that rattles our neighborhood. And we get the occasional lightning strike on the ridge above our house. The Significant Other tends to sleep or hunker down; our dogs get a little crazed and destroy books. (Note - we have a Katrina rescue dog...) I usually sit in our living room, turn off the lights unless Mother Nature already has and just take it all in.
You see, lately I haven't been appreciating the storms as much. I realized this the other day when I had to go through a gentle rain to get to my car in a far corner of a parking lot from the door I was in. I started out in a rush and then slowed down. I remembered a physics professor saying it didn't matter if you ran or walked, you would still get just as wet. Yes, I actually paid attention in college physics... Then I got home and looked out to our backyard and saw plants blooming and things growing that I never seen before; courtesy of our storms. These storms bring out the strangest and most wonderful things and moments. Last night we went to an outdoor concert and dinner. At the end of the concert it started to rain and the SO surprised me. People were running to their cars, but not us. As I started to pack up he decided that was the time for us to dance. Of course, being a former Deadhead he was used to dancing in the rain and being a former Lumberjack I was happy to do so... I love storms.
I think this started with my early years in Ohio. One of my earliest memories is of my mother tucking my younger brother and I under Dad's workbench in the basement during a series of tornadoes. My older brothers were at school that day. The tornadoes passed; cutting a path between our neighborhood and the boys' school. I remember uprooted trees, branches everywhere and Mom's anxiety until they got home safely.
I went to college at one of the rainiest places in the Continental U.S. and never owned a raincoat or umbrella. This was a source of pride for my group of friends as we all took the same stance on the weather. Of course I didn't wear much makeup then or spend much time on my hair either. Then in my corporate life I used to travel to the Midwest frequently for work and had many turbulent flights back to Los Angeles. One was more memorable than others. It was a nighttime flight where the pilot took us up to 46,000 feet, just above the storms. You could watch the lightning glow, then flash and flatten as it reached the top of the clouds. When I shared this with one of my brothers who used to be a pilot he said those scenes were one of the benefits of the job no one told you about.
Now we live in a mountain community and we have experienced snow storms that include thunder and lightning. We get summer storms with amazing lightning and thunder that rattles our neighborhood. And we get the occasional lightning strike on the ridge above our house. The Significant Other tends to sleep or hunker down; our dogs get a little crazed and destroy books. (Note - we have a Katrina rescue dog...) I usually sit in our living room, turn off the lights unless Mother Nature already has and just take it all in.
You see, lately I haven't been appreciating the storms as much. I realized this the other day when I had to go through a gentle rain to get to my car in a far corner of a parking lot from the door I was in. I started out in a rush and then slowed down. I remembered a physics professor saying it didn't matter if you ran or walked, you would still get just as wet. Yes, I actually paid attention in college physics... Then I got home and looked out to our backyard and saw plants blooming and things growing that I never seen before; courtesy of our storms. These storms bring out the strangest and most wonderful things and moments. Last night we went to an outdoor concert and dinner. At the end of the concert it started to rain and the SO surprised me. People were running to their cars, but not us. As I started to pack up he decided that was the time for us to dance. Of course, being a former Deadhead he was used to dancing in the rain and being a former Lumberjack I was happy to do so... I love storms.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
It doesn't take a rocket scientist, or animal behavioralist...
So today one of the leading articles on MSN is titled "Your Dog is Taking Advantage of You." Really. Shocking. Appalling. A group conducted a study and found that dogs possess a "Theory of Mind" or, in layman's terms - the ability to attribute mental states to oneself and others.
Hello. You could've spent a weekend at my house for far less money and confirmed that. We have a dog that has hidden opposable thumbs, a dog that can read and count, another dog that is passive aggressive and actually pouts. If you want evidence just look at the Bad Dog pictures on my Facebook page. How else do you think the spaghetti jar got opened while we were out? Or what about the Black Dog who whines in the middle of the night to get the Brown Dog off his dog bed so she can lay there? It is like a tanning salon, she can't lay in an already used dog bed (of her own I might add...) Or our Brown Dog who thinks he is invisible and not the 90 pounder that he is when he gets out of our yard and nonchalantly walks by us with his head facing away from us. Like we wouldn't see him. Seriously, he doesn't exactly blend in with the trees or neighbor's house.
We don't have children at home, I am the lucky bonus (I'd like to think) to my husband's four grown children who are on their own. They think we are nuts when it comes to these dogs. You see, they - the dogs not the kids - only eat special dog food, stay at a kennel/dude ranch/spa and need only to look at us and either bark or whine and their needs are met. Come to think of it, we should probably up our game for the kids at Christmas and birthdays.
Sometimes I think my significant other - aka the SO - is missing having kids at home. You see, he actually tucks the Black One into her bed at night. Don't even get me started on the Brown One and what goes on between the SO and his Buddy. Or as he says it "Buuu.....ddddyyy." This is where the dogs can perform the Vulcan Mind Meld and read our moods. They know how to play us. Tails up and wagging; they are hopeful and thinking we are in good moods, ready to accommodate their every need. Tails down, heads down and ears sticking out in a strangely Yoda like manner has them working our guilty consciences. Walk in the pouring rain? Sure. Need your dog bed's comforter (yes they have them) cleaned? Sure. American Cheese Slice? Absolutely. And then there is the crazy whirling dervish and bucking that goes one when it is time for a walk or to play outside. In their minds. Not ours. If these dogs were human they could sell birth control to a nun. (Sorry to some of my Catholic friends - you know who you are.)
So, the next time you want to do a study on dogs and if they are taking advantage of us or not just come to our house. It'll be cheap and easy. Just a few free meals, clean sheets and some play in the backyard. Oh, and we humans would be happy with a nice bottle of wine.
Hello. You could've spent a weekend at my house for far less money and confirmed that. We have a dog that has hidden opposable thumbs, a dog that can read and count, another dog that is passive aggressive and actually pouts. If you want evidence just look at the Bad Dog pictures on my Facebook page. How else do you think the spaghetti jar got opened while we were out? Or what about the Black Dog who whines in the middle of the night to get the Brown Dog off his dog bed so she can lay there? It is like a tanning salon, she can't lay in an already used dog bed (of her own I might add...) Or our Brown Dog who thinks he is invisible and not the 90 pounder that he is when he gets out of our yard and nonchalantly walks by us with his head facing away from us. Like we wouldn't see him. Seriously, he doesn't exactly blend in with the trees or neighbor's house.
We don't have children at home, I am the lucky bonus (I'd like to think) to my husband's four grown children who are on their own. They think we are nuts when it comes to these dogs. You see, they - the dogs not the kids - only eat special dog food, stay at a kennel/dude ranch/spa and need only to look at us and either bark or whine and their needs are met. Come to think of it, we should probably up our game for the kids at Christmas and birthdays.
Sometimes I think my significant other - aka the SO - is missing having kids at home. You see, he actually tucks the Black One into her bed at night. Don't even get me started on the Brown One and what goes on between the SO and his Buddy. Or as he says it "Buuu.....ddddyyy." This is where the dogs can perform the Vulcan Mind Meld and read our moods. They know how to play us. Tails up and wagging; they are hopeful and thinking we are in good moods, ready to accommodate their every need. Tails down, heads down and ears sticking out in a strangely Yoda like manner has them working our guilty consciences. Walk in the pouring rain? Sure. Need your dog bed's comforter (yes they have them) cleaned? Sure. American Cheese Slice? Absolutely. And then there is the crazy whirling dervish and bucking that goes one when it is time for a walk or to play outside. In their minds. Not ours. If these dogs were human they could sell birth control to a nun. (Sorry to some of my Catholic friends - you know who you are.)
So, the next time you want to do a study on dogs and if they are taking advantage of us or not just come to our house. It'll be cheap and easy. Just a few free meals, clean sheets and some play in the backyard. Oh, and we humans would be happy with a nice bottle of wine.
Happy life, happy wife...
I woke up this morning to birds chirping, bright blue skies, a gentle breeze flowing through the aspen grove by our house. The dogs were snoring and dreaming. The Brown One was chasing the same thing he has been chasing for months now, open mouth, legs twitching. The Black One was definitely dreaming about food. (She is all about the food.) It was like the beginning of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs minus the Disney music. I am a lucky person because I actually wake up in a good mood. Even when I have tons on my mind and a huge to-do list.
Now the dogs are always in a good mood. My husband swears they are all about the short term memory. Here is his perspective on their routine. "Wow, it's morning. I heard about this." "Hey, they are going to give us food. How lucky are we?" "Check out the grass in the yard, it is so special, I found a new @#$ spot." They are always happy to see us and thrilled with any little bit of attention, food, walk. You name it.
Mike aka the SO (significant other) prefers to start his day in a completely different manner. He grumbles about the things he is tripping over on his way to make coffee. He doesn't really speak until something on Fox News has gotten his attention and needs some sort of response in agreement. Full sentences are saved for really outrageous political behaviour. Luckily for me I am not expected to participate in this or respond.
So what has me thinking about this is all of the news about Chelsea Clinton's wedding. The tally of dollars being spent, flowers being purchased and a gluten free vegan cake. I remember going through all of that and being so excited about our guests, the reception, the food (a real cake I might add) and the whole weekend of events we planned. My oldest brother stood in for my father and walked me down the aisle; my other brothers all took on jobs that Dad would've had and that was so special. Of course I remember all of those things and seeing the same flowers and the venue or hearing the music always takes me back to that special day. I'd like to think they take Mike there too (except for the flowers probably.)
But the thing about weddings is that this is really about a marriage and life. Not flowers or food or music. What I have learned and am continuing to learn is that while a wedding day is so special and makes for amazing memories it doesn't compare to the day to day life. As a friend of mine said years ago, it isn't all sunsets and champagne. And you know, she was right. It's someone setting out a cup of coffee for you in the morning just exactly how you like it. Or someone DVRing a certain reality series for you so you can watch it while he is out of town. It is the SO figuring out that I like to start my day on a good note so he changes from Fox News when I join him and my staying in bed, faking sleep so he can get in his Fox fix before I get up.
Now the dogs are always in a good mood. My husband swears they are all about the short term memory. Here is his perspective on their routine. "Wow, it's morning. I heard about this." "Hey, they are going to give us food. How lucky are we?" "Check out the grass in the yard, it is so special, I found a new @#$ spot." They are always happy to see us and thrilled with any little bit of attention, food, walk. You name it.
Mike aka the SO (significant other) prefers to start his day in a completely different manner. He grumbles about the things he is tripping over on his way to make coffee. He doesn't really speak until something on Fox News has gotten his attention and needs some sort of response in agreement. Full sentences are saved for really outrageous political behaviour. Luckily for me I am not expected to participate in this or respond.
So what has me thinking about this is all of the news about Chelsea Clinton's wedding. The tally of dollars being spent, flowers being purchased and a gluten free vegan cake. I remember going through all of that and being so excited about our guests, the reception, the food (a real cake I might add) and the whole weekend of events we planned. My oldest brother stood in for my father and walked me down the aisle; my other brothers all took on jobs that Dad would've had and that was so special. Of course I remember all of those things and seeing the same flowers and the venue or hearing the music always takes me back to that special day. I'd like to think they take Mike there too (except for the flowers probably.)
But the thing about weddings is that this is really about a marriage and life. Not flowers or food or music. What I have learned and am continuing to learn is that while a wedding day is so special and makes for amazing memories it doesn't compare to the day to day life. As a friend of mine said years ago, it isn't all sunsets and champagne. And you know, she was right. It's someone setting out a cup of coffee for you in the morning just exactly how you like it. Or someone DVRing a certain reality series for you so you can watch it while he is out of town. It is the SO figuring out that I like to start my day on a good note so he changes from Fox News when I join him and my staying in bed, faking sleep so he can get in his Fox fix before I get up.
It is our laughter at things that might not make sense to someone else. Housework, yardwork and work work. Shared interests and in some cases, interests that aren't shared (hello golf.) This is what makes for a lifetime of love and commitment; at least in my opinion. All of that, and the occasional sunset, bouquet of flowers and a nice pot of coffee. Those are the things I always wish for newlyweds as these are the things that make this a happy life and me - a happy wife...
Friday, July 23, 2010
Facebook Posts, Fence Posts, Rail Posts and Touchstones...
So I have to confess. I love Facebook. I know it isn't popular to admit but there it is. I am on and off of it pretty quickly; a couple of times a day and definitely more at night if my husband is traveling (which he usually is) and I am just hanging out. It has been so great to reconnect with old friends and see the mix of friends who comment on my posts.
Now many of these people don't know each other but may have heard stories about each other. Edith, D and E know all so I love getting phone calls from them after they sees a name they recognize. Like this one. "Hey Anne, I just saw xxxa is a new friend of yours. Is she the one that you tried to smoke cigarettes with in 7th grade and threw up on?" Well ELR, yes she is. She now lives in the Midwest and still loves Led Zepplin. Or the call of "I saw so and so post about your family and sleepovers you had in third grade and laughed so hard thinking about the story you told us in college about your group of friends trying to contact Abraham Lincoln" (we were a strange but fun group of girls in elementary school).
These are the friends that I long ago dreamt about life with, shared laughs with about simple things and we talked talked talked. We talked about what a first love or great love would be, where we would live or visit as we grew up and if we would marry or not. Even their siblings are a huge part of our stories. How else would we have learned terrifying things about what happens as you mature; how to properly tp another block in our neighborhoods or make the perfect ice/snowball. Older brothers breaking up seances and prom dates, or in some cases - becoming the prom dates. Older sisters either ratting us out or sharing information with us so we weren't surprised by anything. Conversations of what if, should I or would we. Most of us moved around a lot as a result of our parents' occupations and lost touch in the process. These friends provided the stability and helped shape my values, humor and sensitivity. These are my Fence Posts.
Then there were the college and post college friends. I think of them as the Rail Posts. They connected my younger self to my older self. They were, and now are, a key part of the continuum of it all. See they were around for the I did whats? I should have or we wouldn't have. They have the stories that could keep anyone of us from running for elective office. And rumor has there are pictures too but I am not buying it. We reconnected through Facebook and learn about each other's current lives. You see, they know the younger version and not the snapshot of my current life.
And finally the Touchstones. (You know who you are.) Facebook for us is a reason to call and laugh or provide quick needed updates or news, some good and some sad. You ladies know all of the old stories and now we continue the dialogue. We keep each other grounded. Time tested friendships that reset reality when necessary. You laugh me out of a bad day or listen when I need an ear; you tell me what I need to hear as opposed to what I want to hear. We have dressed each other for weddings, helped heal broken hearts, had girls' trips and held each other as we buried parents or siblings. I'll never forget a certain trip to Nordstrom before a funeral and D deciding that was the day to introduce us to Hanky Pankys for comfort. Collectively we are Gail and Oprah combined with Ethel and Lucy. But that is a whole other Facebook Post..
Through Facebook I have connected with the most important people in my life outside of family. You put the fenceposts in, connect them with railposts and move on to the next section. You don't forget them, you just move on. Sometimes you have to check them and sometimes you never really see them again. Facebook Posts, Fence Posts, Rail Posts and Touchstones...
Now many of these people don't know each other but may have heard stories about each other. Edith, D and E know all so I love getting phone calls from them after they sees a name they recognize. Like this one. "Hey Anne, I just saw xxxa is a new friend of yours. Is she the one that you tried to smoke cigarettes with in 7th grade and threw up on?" Well ELR, yes she is. She now lives in the Midwest and still loves Led Zepplin. Or the call of "I saw so and so post about your family and sleepovers you had in third grade and laughed so hard thinking about the story you told us in college about your group of friends trying to contact Abraham Lincoln" (we were a strange but fun group of girls in elementary school).
These are the friends that I long ago dreamt about life with, shared laughs with about simple things and we talked talked talked. We talked about what a first love or great love would be, where we would live or visit as we grew up and if we would marry or not. Even their siblings are a huge part of our stories. How else would we have learned terrifying things about what happens as you mature; how to properly tp another block in our neighborhoods or make the perfect ice/snowball. Older brothers breaking up seances and prom dates, or in some cases - becoming the prom dates. Older sisters either ratting us out or sharing information with us so we weren't surprised by anything. Conversations of what if, should I or would we. Most of us moved around a lot as a result of our parents' occupations and lost touch in the process. These friends provided the stability and helped shape my values, humor and sensitivity. These are my Fence Posts.
Then there were the college and post college friends. I think of them as the Rail Posts. They connected my younger self to my older self. They were, and now are, a key part of the continuum of it all. See they were around for the I did whats? I should have or we wouldn't have. They have the stories that could keep anyone of us from running for elective office. And rumor has there are pictures too but I am not buying it. We reconnected through Facebook and learn about each other's current lives. You see, they know the younger version and not the snapshot of my current life.
And finally the Touchstones. (You know who you are.) Facebook for us is a reason to call and laugh or provide quick needed updates or news, some good and some sad. You ladies know all of the old stories and now we continue the dialogue. We keep each other grounded. Time tested friendships that reset reality when necessary. You laugh me out of a bad day or listen when I need an ear; you tell me what I need to hear as opposed to what I want to hear. We have dressed each other for weddings, helped heal broken hearts, had girls' trips and held each other as we buried parents or siblings. I'll never forget a certain trip to Nordstrom before a funeral and D deciding that was the day to introduce us to Hanky Pankys for comfort. Collectively we are Gail and Oprah combined with Ethel and Lucy. But that is a whole other Facebook Post..
Through Facebook I have connected with the most important people in my life outside of family. You put the fenceposts in, connect them with railposts and move on to the next section. You don't forget them, you just move on. Sometimes you have to check them and sometimes you never really see them again. Facebook Posts, Fence Posts, Rail Posts and Touchstones...
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Out of the mouths of babes, or in my case - my 40 year old baby brother...
After many years of working in the corporate world, doing all of the right things and doing what I thought I wanted to do it took a simple comment from my youngest brother to start me down an unexpected path that I still haven't mapped out. And he thinks I don't take him seriously.
I had the power suit, the business cards, the frequent flier miles and business network that told me I was successful. Heck, even the people at Delta's Crown Rooms recognized me in four airports. Certain flight crews were known to me as I was to them. In meetings with potential clients and various banks people worked their schedules around me. According to everyone I was very successful and happy, married to a great guy (thank god for him) who also had a thriving career. It was everything I dreamt of, even as I was being "socially successful" in college. I never doubted I would do well.
So, back to that dinner. We were eating at a well known steakhouse in Denver; my treat since they made the time and were newly married. We were talking about my job, their jobs and the fact that my husband and I only saw each other on weekends which were crammed with social activities and skiing with out of town guests. I commented that we spent more time together when we were dating. With all of the wisdom of a newlywed my brother pointed out that we have to make the time for each other, prioritize, find common interests. Such sage advice offered from someone who had been married for 90 days... But then he hit me with the arrow and didn't even realize it; "...I always thought you'd be a writer... I never figured out how you ended up where you are..." Out of the mouths of babes as they say.
Keeping in mind we grew up in a family of six, five brothers and one sister. Oh, that would be me. Not exactly the princess one would think. We were raised Catholic with an emphasis on our Irish roots. So yes, we were (and are) competitive, outspoken and still maintain a sense of humor that many people don't quite get. Our father was an officer in the military and while we moved frequently it wasn't as much as most families. We never lived on base because we were told that base housing couldn't accommodate a family our size. What a bummer for us since all we knew about base housing was occasional free rides from the MPs (don't tell) to the Officers Club for pooltime and free ice cream. Aah the optimism of kids, so far removed from reality. As adults we figured out that Mom just wanted a little slice of her own life, especially since Dad was gone so much. But I digress; the point is my youngest brother still thinks we all treat him like he is seven to this day and many days he is probably right.
So this blog is part of my journey. Not to rediscover myself like so many. I am who I am. But it is part of the continuum of my life that started so long ago with my love of books and the written word.
I had the power suit, the business cards, the frequent flier miles and business network that told me I was successful. Heck, even the people at Delta's Crown Rooms recognized me in four airports. Certain flight crews were known to me as I was to them. In meetings with potential clients and various banks people worked their schedules around me. According to everyone I was very successful and happy, married to a great guy (thank god for him) who also had a thriving career. It was everything I dreamt of, even as I was being "socially successful" in college. I never doubted I would do well.
So, back to that dinner. We were eating at a well known steakhouse in Denver; my treat since they made the time and were newly married. We were talking about my job, their jobs and the fact that my husband and I only saw each other on weekends which were crammed with social activities and skiing with out of town guests. I commented that we spent more time together when we were dating. With all of the wisdom of a newlywed my brother pointed out that we have to make the time for each other, prioritize, find common interests. Such sage advice offered from someone who had been married for 90 days... But then he hit me with the arrow and didn't even realize it; "...I always thought you'd be a writer... I never figured out how you ended up where you are..." Out of the mouths of babes as they say.
Keeping in mind we grew up in a family of six, five brothers and one sister. Oh, that would be me. Not exactly the princess one would think. We were raised Catholic with an emphasis on our Irish roots. So yes, we were (and are) competitive, outspoken and still maintain a sense of humor that many people don't quite get. Our father was an officer in the military and while we moved frequently it wasn't as much as most families. We never lived on base because we were told that base housing couldn't accommodate a family our size. What a bummer for us since all we knew about base housing was occasional free rides from the MPs (don't tell) to the Officers Club for pooltime and free ice cream. Aah the optimism of kids, so far removed from reality. As adults we figured out that Mom just wanted a little slice of her own life, especially since Dad was gone so much. But I digress; the point is my youngest brother still thinks we all treat him like he is seven to this day and many days he is probably right.
So this blog is part of my journey. Not to rediscover myself like so many. I am who I am. But it is part of the continuum of my life that started so long ago with my love of books and the written word.
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