Cinderella Lost Her Shoe and Found Something Else

 Uncommonly beautiful weekend here--I am finding myself paying close attention to days like this.

I can't even say exactly what we did this weekend, except I remember that the weather was exceptional. Yesterday I spent driving all over the Greater Philadelphia area, taking a friend to the airport, then down to the Schuykill to row, then a drive by in Powelton Village for elder to see a Restaurant Rescue site, then to South Philly for Asian food and a possible elevator.

So rowing, and aquafit--I'm finding that there are other ways than walking and hiking to staying healthy and in shape.  I used to do both for miles on end, and the joints just don't like that, anymore.   A friend got me into going to aquafit classes two nights a week, and now that's my thing.  I go Saturday mornings now, too, because I can, and because that class legit kicks my ass.

And the unexpected benefit to that is that the workouts I get from those classes help the rowing. So I've been prepping for the rowing without knowing that was what I was doing. 

And I am getting the hang of that. And the whole idea of being on a team is awesome, since the last time I was  on ANY team was U18 Tennis back in the old neighborhood.

The boys came with since we were going out to dinner after. And because of that, I had a dress on under my rash guard and board shorts. As I was exchanging digits with another rower, I stripped off my coverings and someone asked "You didn't really wear a dress under that?"

Why yes, yes I did.

But as we all know, I am a hot mess, and I couldn't put my damp clothes in my wet bag because that would make too much sense. So of course I was going to lose something on the way back to the car, but I didn't realize that til later. 

Elder rode shot gun and directed me to his POI and regaled us all with the history and why it closed, probably more than I ever wanted to know. And off to dinner, notable for the fact that the boys tried and liked sweet and sour chicken, scallion pancakes, Peking duck and surprise, we all discovered that younger liked rice. Really?  We had no idea. 

And they got my drink order all wrong--which is fine, I pretty much like everything, anyway, so no harm no foul.

But when I emptied out the back of the car when we got home, I discovered my left water sandal was missing.

Um.

I get upset and fixated over the darndest things.

I lie in bed and think about the shoe and where it could have landed.  I know every step between point A and point B. When I wake up, I am still thinking about the shoe and the strange appearance my dad made in my half waking over the weekend. I am also haunted by a younger version of me who is screaming every insecurity I ever had.  Unfortunately, this is me V 8.0 ish, so very loud and persistent. 

The birds must hear her because George is LOUD.  I shush him and make sure the birds have all they need. I go downstairs and make coffee.  I double check the back of the car-no left shoe.

I sit at the dining room table and solve the sudoku in the news paper.  And decide that I need to go look for the other shoe.

I pocket my swiss army knife and pepper spray--just in case.  And set off for the dock. The drive is quiet and uneventful--not a whole lot of traffic on Lincoln Drive or MLK.  Windows down, stereo off. And I pull into the lot, exactly where we parked....and behold, there is my left shoe.

I laugh.  Of course.  I toss the shoe in the car and take a stroll down to the dock.  There are sculls and out-rigger canoes out on the water.  It's a gorgeous morning to be rowing.

I hop in the car and take another route home, through Manayunk and the back roads along the river through Roxborough and Andorra, windows down, sunroof open, through Fairmount Park and then back in my own run.

And I'm not sure why, but I feel at peace.  I needed this--the solitude, the morning, the ride.

Grateful for these things.

Now what?

 Had my last parent panel last night.  And by last, I mean, it's time for me to hang up my school years expertise.  

I had become an expert in every area I needed to in the moment.  I am a C2P2 grad, but unlike the parents presenting last night, my certificate happened 13 years ago.  Both kids are officially OUT of K-12.Thus, my head is in an unprecedented place.

I feel like Wile E. Coyote running out of cliff and just realizing I am in midair.

Yipe.

And just like that, I am at loose ends with both of their loose ends.

I think this is the part where I take those loose ends, tie a knot, and hang on.

The chasm has never yawned more widely.

Anger Management

 We live in intense times.

Some argue that COVD warped us, but our problems began before that. COVD only magnified and exacerbated the problem.

I'm talking about the pervasive anger that is literally everywhere. I'm talking about the fact that we are indeed living in the wild wild west; permission has been given to be an asshole and assert that right whenever one feels they have been slighted.

Take traffic patterns at the toll plaza of the Verrazzano Bridge.  There is never a good time to be there; it is always congested (to wit, I think the only time I hit zero traffic was travelling east to Long Island during the Super Bowl 20-something years ago).  Anyway, anyone who has ever been will tell you that it is DEATH to stop; you keep moving, you keep edging along, you just roll with the traffic, and sooner or later you and everyone else stuck in that scrum will get through it and cruise on to the other side.

Costco on a Sunday afternoon after church isn't any different.  Same principles apply; you merge, you blend, you keep going, and eventually, you will see the person to check off your receipt and you will see the light of day.

The person behind me last Sunday did not see it that way.

So there I am, with my single case of seltzer gotten for elder, because I was there filling the gas tank anyway, where was the harm?  Until I got into the warehouse, and oh fuck, it is way too crowded and peoply in here, but I'm here, so let's just get the thing....

I check out, and do the described merge above.  Somewhere behind me and to the right I hear "I am so fucking sick of these people cutting me off. I am not going to take this anymore.  Fuck this person."

Is she talking about me?  I seem to attract this sort of thing.  But, see above--I had people coming through checkout behind me--it's not like I can STOP; I need to keep moving.

But I'm not the only one doing this thing; indeed, people are filing in ahead of me from the checkouts between me and the exit, so I don't give it another thought except to get to the left side when the line splits so as to avoid the near occasion of the angry person back and to my right.

Except.  Angry person back and to my right gets behind me (probably cutting someone off in so doing) and slams her cart into mine.

I pause.  She really didn't just do that, did she?  I turn around to meet the angry smile that pretends to be bright. "Oh, I'm sorry," she says sweetly.

"No you're not, I heard you," I reply and turn back around. No way in hell was I letting her get away with that.  Dead silence.  She knows I'm listening now. The man checking receipts takes mine.  I maximize the value of my voice that carries.

"My only item," I smile. He thanks me, checking it off.  "See ya!" directed at lady behind me. Don't wanna be yaaaaa.

But I'm shaken as I wheel my cart back to my car.  What if she has a gun?  What if she decides it's okay to shoot because I pissed her off?

What kind of world am I living in that my head is even going here?

The road is not much better.  I drive defensively because people either aren't paying attention or think their time is more important than yours or simply think that the traffic laws don't apply to them. 

I had a similar situation yesterday, driving on a road that merges with another, then separates a quarter of a mile later. This particular intersection is rife with accidents, because all the above.  Someone in a black Kia decided to play chicken on this stretch.  The person ahead of me yielded to the crazy, and I approved. Then the person ahead turned off, and I was behind crazy.  Coming up to a stop light, I moved to the turning lane to take my road.  As I passed crazy, she was SCREAMING at me for passing her.  I couldn't hear her, because my window was up, but she was wailing like a banshee.

I made my turn and made my way quickly and quietly in case she decided to tail me.  Fortunately, she kept going straight, screaming all the while. 

I don't think it was me. I just happened to be there to bear witness. But again that thought.....

Sustaining that kind of anger must be exhausting.

So, there was supposed to be a recessional.....

 **Audience is asked to stand in place until academic staff and graduates have exited the field.
(from the commencement program).

This didn't happen, but I get ahead of myself.

The difference of having my two four years apart is as different as my two...two completely different people with two completely different sets of things going on. Looking back over the last 17 years in this school district through the lens of our unique perspective (because I know there isn't a family like ours, or we would have met them by now), I have to say the boys did okay, measured by the yardstick of the norm.

However, we sit outside of that, so by any measure, they blew the roof off of every expectation anyone has ever had of them.  Well, except for me and dad, because neither of us expected any less from our kids.

But, we're not done, yet.  They both have a whole lifetime ahead of them. 

But, in the moment, there's this moment, where all the teachers and graduates process in, caps, gowns, sashes, medals, ribbons--all the pomp and circumstance. What's different about this moment and the one four years ago is, well, everything. Elder's class was just ahead of The Last Normal.  Then pandemic, then everything shut down, derailed, and everyone is in the same damn ocean flailing because the boat that was our "normal" sank into the unprecedented.

So younger's night looked like elder's, except it wasn't.

Graduation was an hour earlier--why?  Because Ida took out the stadium lights last September when the world ended, and they haven't been replaced, yet. It was an hour earlier, and an hour hotter.  But, all of the family and friends packed the stands, like four years ago, because we could, and because we all need a little more of the "normal" that sank. Even the speeches reflected the difference of the last four years from when they arrived. In sophomore year, they were supposed to be off for two weeks--not to return in person for the rest of the year. That year lost what we had last night--that "normal", that celebration.  Their junior year started in that same fashion--and a lot of activities were canceled, and the seniors who were supposed to have "their year"....didn't.

And this is the thing that put all our kids in the same boat...in the same struggle. Everything we had expected just wasn't THAT anymore. 

Four years ago, the closing, class response, and recessional went off with precision; everyone stood in place while the graduates and faculty filed out and glided by twos back to the A-Plex.

Last night,  it was not that. 

After the Class Response, "Uptown Funk" blared through the speakers.  The graduates tossed their caps into the air.  Then they all started looking for their caps.  And then they all started hugging, shaking hands, exchanging fist bumps.

And then any semblence of "normal" went out the window.  Dammit, this was a celebration, so the hell with that recessional.  Let's all go down to the field and join them!

So we did. 

It's a good way to close out this chapter. 

We'll enjoy this moment. Because we still have a lot to do. 

This Time Around

 Younger walks in less than 6 hours.

He'll do what his brother did; stay on to attend VoTech while attending the community college.  We've been here before, and yet, we haven't...

There are differences this time; there are things that younger had access to that his brother did not.  Was it that his brother wasn't paying attention?  Or was it that he wasn't invited?  Or maybe he opted out? The young man who is no poker player has his game face on. He's a score keeper; he knows exactly who got what and when.  He's pointed out more than once when younger got something he didn't.

"You are two different people," I remind him, "You didn't do band.  You did other things."

But.  When I was running my last volunteering effort at the high school last week, I got into a conversation with one of the advisors about the mugs we were passing out to the students (I had younger's stashed under a table). She said, yeah, they've been doing this for 17 years....

I blinked.  Four years ago, elder didn't get a mug, and I mention that.  

She blinks.  "Oh, we have extra, if you can wait, I'll get it for you."

I was willing to wait. 

(And a mom posted on social media later that her kid didn't get a mug.  I felt that.)

Later in the week, younger had graduation practice. I drop his brother off to job shadow first.  Younger reminds me that we need to go to his elementary school after to walk the halls.

I am game to do this. But....elder didn't.

If you go back in my blog 11 years ago, the why is pretty clear. But by the same token, I don't recall even knowing it was happening. 

Elder isn't saying anything.

There are dozens of other little differences.  But then, they are different people...and times are different. 

Imprint

So I just heard about the death of my first mentor on what would have been her 68th birthday.  Our relationship was a fraught one--a lot of good, a lot of bad, and a lot of ugly. I haven't spoken to her in decades, but the news made decades ago seem pretty immediate. She filled a lot of gaps in my life, and I suspect I filled a lot of gaps for her as well, or our relationship would not have lasted as long as it did.

She also opened my world in a way no one else at that time could have, and for that I owe her a debt of gratitude.  Most of the signers of my yearbooks Junior and Senior years did not go to high school with me; they were my peeps--the peeps she introduced me to, my first glimpse into the fact that I *would* find my people.

(I could do a whole other riff on John Lennon, but that might need to be a separate blog)

One of my friends and I remembered her over dinner.  She saw a lot of things I didn't, but she always does. 

We had kept up with one another sporadically, or, as she remembered me.  I wasn't exactly a priority, so she eventually fell off my priorities as well. She reconnected with me shortly after I got married, but then I didn't hear from her again, guessing she was annoyed I didn't invite her. I'll never know. I had tried to reconnect with her after younger was born, but she kept ghosting me, and then ended up in the deep south with her partner. I lost track of her after that. 

When I noticed her obit in my inbox, oddly after the fact but on her birthday, I found myself looking for her on social media.  Whatever I was feeling fell away. I know from before she had a rough life, and it never got all that much easier. And when every single person you've ever loved has departed for the underworld, there's not much left to do but to join them. 

I've all but forgotten the hurt; she *saw* me, and whatever she exploited in pursuit of her own ends kind of doesn't matter now. It's done, and anything I lost wasn't anything I missed. 

Til next time.

Fan Girl

 My first brushes with celebrity happened the Thanksgiving after my dad died. A neighbor took me with his kids down to the Channel 6 Thanksgiving parade; we somehow ended up in the staging area (he knew a guy or two), and I met Captain Noah and Gene London, two children's show personalities who were on the local stations since forever leading up to that point.  The autographs I had gotten are long gone. Captain Noah had his game face on, and Gene London looked like he'd rather be anywhere else. This cold, bright day is one of the few things I remember about that time after my own sun disappeared.

There were other brushes with celebrity; when I met the first incarnation of My People in high school, I went to Sci Fi conventions and met most of the original Star Trek cast plus Tom Baker (THE Fourth Doctor). DamnifIknow what happened to those autographs.  Running in the background of that, though, I was a serious Anglophile--I had it in my head that I was going to go live in England and join the Royal Shakespeare Company and get a permanent posh accent and everything (spoiler alert: that didn't happen). 

So I settled for the next best thing and went to England with my school shortly after my high school graduation. My mother would have rather had me loose in a foreign country than down the Jersey shore during Senior Week. As soon as we settle in our hotel and had itineraries in hand, I scanned for free times and plopped it alongside the RSC's brochure (one of the chaperones had tried to tell me they were closed for the season; I knew that wasn't the case).  And bingo, my crush du jour Roger Rees was playing Hamlet at the Barbican (alongside a then little-known actor named Kenneth Branagh) during one of those itinerary openings.

I hit the concierge desk and bought the last four tickets, 10th row center.  And then told one of the chaperones that I was NOT going to the Hippodrome with the rest of the group, I was going to see some Shakespeare, because dammit, I didn't come all this way to go to some freaking night club.

It legit was not that hard a sell: that chaperone and her husband were MORE than happy to not, but she told me I needed to get another student to come along.  Turned out there was a sophomore who would also Rather Not, so the four of us went to see some Shakespeare.  The rest of the girls made fun of us and told us to have fun.

DAY-UM. 

It was this excursion that introduced me to the Stage Door. And as jazzed as I was to see some incredible theater, it was an even bigger charge to meet my crush (also a bit of a let-down when my gay-dar went WAY off, but it was all good, I got what I came for, and I still have THAT autograph).  When the girls asked me sardonically how Shakespeare went, I rhapsodically waxed poetic about it for hours on end to the point that they as a collective had a little buyer's remorse.

This is the bar that all subsequent celebrity encounters was set against.

And there have been a few, Patrick Stewart, Salman Rushdie (who I literally ran into coming off an elevator while I was working at Random House), Kurt Vonnegut, Audrey Meadows, Brian Wilson to name a few.  We were at a gala a couple years ago when one of Nic's heroes was emceeing.  I announced to my table that I was off to get an autograph and a selfie for my son, and they thought I was kidding.

Nope. 

Then there was the time we took younger and his friend to see Mandy Patinkin.  Both were stunned to learn that you can wait at the stage door and MEET the person on stage.  So we did, and we did. Hubby got some good pics.

Then there was the time I drove into the city with my younger guy to meet his favorite cartoonist. Not only did we meet him, we have an awesome little cartoon drawn just for younger (we still need to frame it).

The latest iteration happened when I saw Lin-Manuel Miranda was performing for one night only in Freestyle Love Supreme.  I asserted my agency and bought four tickets and told elder, "We are GOING to this show and we are GOING to meet this guy."

Ordinarily my older guy is a reluctant participant in these outings, but this being one of his heroes, was a little different. Instead of the usual complaints, he was legit excited.

So there was no way in hell I was leaving the stage door area without LM's scribble.

Apparently half the audience had the same idea; and they had gotten to the stage door first.

So, the logistician kicked in:  where was my best shot at achieving my objective?  The boys and I had been in the back, and I saw LM's hat in the sea of people off to the left.  I made my way over and wriggled my way as close to the front as I could. 

I knew I was at the tail end of the signing.  Everyone was calling his name and waving their program. 

I called his name. Once.

I saw him look up and search. And we locked eyes. And he smiled, reached for my program, and signed it.

And I was one of the last programs he signed.

I could hardly believe it. 

I wriggled back out from the scrum and found hubby. I grinned broadly and waved my program.  The boys, having been dismissed with the rest of the crowd came moping over.  Elder was quite bitter about not having met LM.  I waved my program at him.

"WHAT?"

"HOW?"

Both of them grabbed the program and marveled at the squiggle. And then both marveled at me for having gotten it in the first place. It mattered not that they didn't meet him because as far as they were concerned, I was their proxy, and I did it for them. 

Anyone who had known me any amount of time will tell you that I can literally do anything I set my mind to.

Imagine what I could do if I used that power for good......

Kaddish

 I went to a funeral last week; seems my attendance of these things are becoming more frequent. This one was for someone I met in person all of twice and haven't been in active touch for years. When I heard of his passing, of course I had to go...

...en route it occurs to me that I will know no one.

We initially crossed paths in 2004 on the Brian Wilson Blue Board.  He was witty, friendly, and seemed to know everything about everything. This group helped get me through the worst of my blackout depression of 2005-06. (A lot of shit went down then; that I got through it is nothing short of miraculous.) Hubby and I met up with a few in Red Bank, NJ when we scored last minute tickets to a fund raiser.  We met up with him and a few ladies before the show, then after, across the street at a bar for a late dinner and drinks. 

We were sitting outside, and it began to drizzle. Whenever we chatted, he would tell me he would meet up for damp burgers anytime.

We both eventually drifted away from the Blue Board and went on to do our things.  He moved back to PA and enjoyed performing theater and improv when he wasn't working his day job. I'd keep up with his doings on social media, and we'd joke that we needed to meet up for damp burgers.

I remember early days of isolation that he asked people to write him snail mail. I jotted down his address and thought I'd get the boys to drop him a line, too. Then life overwhelmed, as it does, and that good intention got buried, like so many do. 

I really do try to be impeccable in my word; if I say I'm going to do something, I do it. Except for when I get buried, then I triage, and sometimes promises need to get walked back or re-jiggered.

It helps if I am in fairly regular contact with the contractee; and if you aren't insistent, sometimes I fail to pick up where I left off.

So, he died, and the least I could do was go pay my respects.

I missed the turn headed to the cemetery; it's okay, he had me covered--I was able to make a turn that under normal circumstances would have been impossible to make, traffic being what it is. And I didn't endanger anyone doing it--yay.

But by coming in this side entrance, I missed the color coding of all the services happening that afternoon.  I stop at one intersection, puzzling at the nameless colored arrows,  I stared at the orange one, which went away from a majority of the other ones.  I could swear I heard him say, "That's the one."

Fortunately, the office was enroute, and there was an employee coming my way on a golf cart. I called out "How do I know where a graveside service is?"

He smiled, "MJC?  See that tent?" Literally a hundred yards off to my left over a small hill, I could make out the top of it.  I thanked him and hurried over.

It was good to see a crowd, about 100 people or so crowded under or near the tent. He was a good guy. Whoever couldn't be there in person tuned in over Zoom. I had gotten the link in case I couldn't get away.  I stood off by myself; I wasn't here for anyone but him.

And he literally got me there, so I knew he knew I made it. 

Rest in peace.  Keep up the improv and theater and puns. And enjoy a damp burger.

On Your Right

 Hmm. A lot of things at the moment...may as well start with the last thing first.

So I was sitting out on the upper deck enjoying some sunshine (we've had an exceptional couple of days), and listening to robins and catbirds calling up a storm.  Already an alarm should have been ringing because 1) I saw the flash of a sharp-shinned by my kitchen window and 2) the sun is a little high and hot for birds to be actively marking territory.

But in the moment, I am enjoying the sun, the birds, the relative quiet.

Until the sharp-shinned flew fast from the shrubbery below with something in its talons--I think he was expecting to feed on the deck but was a little surprised to see me, so kept winging quickly mere inches past my shoulder.  It took a minute to register that I was seeing a newish chick with the raptor.

The catbird came flying out shortly thereafter, perching up in the dogwood and crying plaintively.

I apologized to it.  I didn't have its chick. 

The robin is singing now.  I think "There but for the grace of God."  George is yelling back at it. Paulie is busy eating. 

The birds are singing again.

Birds ran the weekend. I played darts on Friday night while hubby ran elder up to bingo in another part of the forest. Enjoyed a little of everything. Fortunately, he picked me up on the way home.  He had some thoughts on where he was he shared the next morning.  Which came early because we were at our local nature center at 6 am with one of his coworkers looking for the pileated woodpecker--and got skunked; the pileateds moved on and left flickers in their wake. Out to breakfast. Took younger to flea markets while elder elevatored with one of his teachers. Younger worked; elder worked; then  three of us went out for ice cream.

I paddled yesterday--left side this time. I'm starting to feel it now.  Hoping to land in a drama-free space.

Spent the better part of today in a training, and just took younger to a school function. He wanted me to come in with him, and I hung back "because it would make me look like a mama's boy?" he asked after. 

"Yep," I answered. "Did you get into any conversations?"

He's sharp; he knows what I'm asking. "Some," he answered.

"The world is a bigger place than this," I reminded him. "You need to go out into it to find your people."

"Yeah mom, I get that."

I know he does. 

Slack

 I'm just realizing as we are running up hard against high school graduation that there's a lot of stuff that younger didn't do, yet.

A lot of the stuff elder had to do, he did with the help of one of the staff at the high school.  Younger didn't have that kind of attention. Like I said, he rolls on his own at his own speed, and he'll get where he's going when he gets there.

But, there's stuff to do. Selective service, voter registration, meeting with his college advisor, and oh yeah, OVR registration and the paperwork for SSI (that will be denied, but we need to do it, anyway). And there's a party we're planning, which means invites and whatnot.  

So I made a list and started to help younger knock some stuff out. We got about halfway through the list, but now I have to look for some other paperwork so I can finish up what needs to get done. 

The paperwork, it never ends.

We went to younger's awards night last night, two hours of all kinds of awards. We didn't have this for elder. Kind of a shame because I felt like he should have gotten something for all his grief. Anyway. He sat with us, and other kids sat with their friends.  That again. He didn't seem to mind or notice.

But sometimes I don't know what he minds or notices. 

Onward.