Thursday, May 26, 2011

Prelude to Goodbye - Part Two



Last year when Taylor left for camp, I knew it would be challenging to be without her. I just didn’t realize how much it would hurt – nor how keenly the realization of her growing up and away from me would sting.

I pretty much melted down the Monday after she left last summer, while I was getting ready for work. Once I was at my (wonderful) place of employment that morning, I decided (given my puffy, swollen face and my inability to string a sentence together without dissolving into tears) that I would take refuge in an empty cubicle in another building (close to my core team, but far away from my cross-functional teams that I typically work with on a day-to-day basis.) One of my co-workers patiently spoke to me through the cubicle wall. “Are you okay?” she whispered. The only response I could muster on that day was, “I.Don’t.Wanna.Talk.”

My disposition did improve slightly over the ensuing days. I knew that my daughter was having fun, having new experiences, making friends from around the globe and gaining the all-too-important confidence necessary for navigating this life on her own.

A few weeks later, when Donnie and I flew to New York City to see my (our) daughter after her stay at camp, the week in Maine with family and friends and then the few days with one of my best friends in NYC, I could barely contain myself. I knew that my feeling was rightfully one sided…but I was still looking forward to being able to embrace her, to see her.

My Mommy (somewhat-worthy-of-therapist-couch) neuroses were apparent when Donnie and I exited the plane at the Airport. I started to sprint for a cab. Donnie had other ideas. He decided that he needed a coffee at an airport vendor. I stood beside him…tapping my foot and glaring at him. “Really?!?” I said, “Can’t you wait???” My subsequent reunion with my daughter was tearful. (on my part, of course)

I realized soon after that I would have to steel myself for the future.

And part of that future is now just a few days away.

Taylor loved camp so very much. And, was completely committed to going back for a longer stretch of time. Initially, I wanted her to work for it.

Then, after she got into the academic-heavy program at her High School, I told her I would pay…as long as she had all As and Bs. She met her academic requirements, even in the College course she has taken this year as a High School Freshman. So I paid (quite a price) for her to attend camp this summer for 5 weeks.

Now we are 14 days from her departing for camp in Maine. The camp is old-fashioned and eschews cell phones, computers and television. They encourage being outdoors, swimming, boating, archery and creativity. This is all lofty and good, but, I can’t talk to her during her stint at camp. I can send one way e-mails and she can send snail mail. And, I won’t see her. Nothing, nada from June 12th until July 15th.

As I have stated before, this feels like a dress rehearsal for the final flight from the nest. I believe that it is because of that knowledge that I have become somewhat clingy and a bit teary in recent days.

Where has the time gone?

It seems like only yesterday I was trying on the term ‘daughter’ and introducing the idea into my everyday life and lexicon.

I baked birthday cakes for her and decorated them. I spent long lovely evenings with her – when it was just the two of us – cooking or ordering takeout, watching movies and cuddling. I was there when she learned how to walk, speak, shop, swim, fish and negotiate. Ages 2 through 9 were dreamy and wonderful. Ages 10 through 14…notsomuch, but all part of the ride.

Through the past 16 years of our shared life, she has been there…traveling this journey with me. Now she is taking that first tentative step out of our safe nest practicing for the final flight.

As am I.

She’ll be back after 5 weeks. And I know that the next time she leaves, it’ll be for good.

While I feel bereft and oh-so-very-sad at the thought, I am also feeling my heart expand with pride. I know I have tried my damndest to be a really good Mom and I know that she is a great daughter. She is brave, (braver than I was) smart, (smarter than I am…but please don’t tell her) and incredibly empathetic. (Towards humans and animals alike.)

As certain as the tides change, she will continue to grow towards her future. I will continue to try my best to grow as a parent alongside of her.

There are just three more High School years…then I imagine, she is off to college.

I am quite sure that this will not be my last post about Tay leaving…but I would love to hear from others who have survived not only the tumultuous teens, but those who have also then been smacked, painfully, upside the head and heart with the reality of the soon-to-come empty nest.

Saturday, May 7, 2011

From Margaritaville to Mosh Pits



The weekend of April 23rd was a busy and very musically enhanced one for us. I had the good fortune to attend two concerts, one on Saturday and one on Sunday. They couldn’t have been much more diametrically opposed.

Saturday, April 23, 2011

Saturday’s concert was more of an all day event. Jimmy Buffett was making his annual sojourn to South Florida. I love Buffett’s music and have been a fan since I was introduced to it at seventeen, whilst boating and waterskiing on the South Florida Intercoastal Waterway.

Since then, his music and celebrity have been woven into the fabric and soundtrack of my adult life in various ways.

The actual concert didn’t begin until 8:00 PM but, Donnie and I arrived at 11:30 AM to help prepare for an event for my work. (The company I work for makes products under Buffett’s well-known brand.)



I was a only mildly surprised to see that some die-hard Parrotheads (the self-applied moniker of Jimmy’s most ardent fans) had already begun setting up for tailgating by that time. Yes, a full 8-½ hours prior to the show. These hardy folks would spend the entire afternoon in the sweltering South Florida sun, drinking, barbequing, and playing catch while listening to Buffett music.

This was after setting up intricate temporary homes consisting of tents, with generators to power blenders, portable grills, tables, chairs, coolers, food, drinks, outdoor fans – all of which were festooned with blow up colorful parrots, grass skirts and any other brightly colored accoutrements. And of course this was before they would file into the venue to drink some more and listen to the man himself.

Though I have attended several Buffett concerts and tailgates in the past, I was still impressed by the sight and the fortitude of its dedicated hard-core members.

When my work commitment was complete, we assisted in some clean up and headed home for a mid-day break. I just couldn’t entertain the idea of remaining out there in the relentless sun all day. Plus, we needed to let our poor dogs out for a potty break.

We returned to the venue a couple of hours later, with a friend and co-worker of mine who caught a ride with us as she had a ticket to the show, as well. Shockingly, we were able to reclaim our close parking space and rejoin a group who were all seeing the concert together. We ate, drank and chatted up friends in the relative comfort of a large festive tent complete with all of the amenities. As we did so, I thought (as I often do) how fortunate I am for so many things – a great company to be employed by and brilliant, engaging and likable friends, and a wonderful husband to share the experience and music with.



We enjoyed the subsequent concert wholly. Jimmy never fails to put on a good show. We had great seats, but his exuberant energy always creates such an intimacy with his audience, that every seat is a good one. It is a gift of performing that I have only witnessed in a few artists.

We left just as the final song was beginning in order to beat the crowds and were back home by 11:30 PM.

Sunday, April 24, 2011

The next day (which was Easter Sunday*** ) I was exhausted from the previous day’s activities. However, I knew I needed to gird my loins for another concert.

A couple of months ago, my fifteen year old daughter, Taylor had expressed quite a keen interest in a band called 30 Seconds to Mars. It is headed by lead singer Jared Leto, an actor known for his roles in movies such as Requiem for a Dream and Panic Room. When Taylor enthusiastically showed me the music videos featuring the band, I pointed out that the lead singer had been the heartthrob in the coming-of-age TV series My So Called Life, which had aired back in the ‘90s and which she and I had watched in its entirety when she was 13 via DVD.

Given this new information, she squinted at the computer monitor and proclaimed him “still hot.” And, even though he was sporting a pink Mohawk in his band’s video ‘Closer to the Edge.’ – I had to agree. Plus, the band’s music was very reminiscent to me, both lyrically and in sound to the band U2.

I was heartened to hear that she had expanded her musical palette beyond the “JB’s” (Jonas Brothers and Justin Bieber) that had until recently dominated her listening tastes.

So, excited by Taylor’s interest outside of bubble-gum pop and knowing that music is one of her biggest passions, I did a quick internet search to discover that 30 Seconds to Mars would be playing live in an Amphitheater right here in West Boca Raton on April 24th, Easter Sunday. I purchased 3 regular open seating tickets (foregoing the $300 Golden Tickets that included a meet and greet with the band) thinking that if she didn’t have a friend who would want to go, Donnie would accompany us. I was also a bit nervous that perhaps her interest in their music might be fleeting and wane in the coming weeks.

I needn’t have worried.

I presented the tickets to her a week prior to the concert, as an early “Easter basket” gift. She was even more surprised and gleeful than I could have imagined and immediately invited an equally happy friend to join us for the concert.

We arrived at the concert venue that Sunday afternoon a full 2 ½ hours prior to the 7:00 PM show time. I was unfamiliar with the amphitheater and hoped that we would have some time to mill about, find a good seat and take in the views.

However, what greeted us when we got there was just a line that had formed at the closed gates. Her friend arrived shortly thereafter to join us – thankfully with fortification in the form of McDonalds and soft drinks.



We sat (again in the hot unrelenting sun) for the better part of two hours. There were perhaps 50 people in line in front of us. And as the minutes of waiting ticked by, the line behind us extended into the hundreds.

I took in the people in line. There were quite a few Mother and Daughter pairs, a testament to Jared Leto’s generation-spanning appeal. There were plenty of unaccompanied pre-teens and older teenagers. Mixed in with the rest of the crowd there were also numerous (what Taylor would term as) “goth” looking individuals in the waiting queue who sported very unique hair styles and piercings.

This band certainly attracted quite a diverse assembly.

The gates of the venue finally opened. Taylor, her friend and I were able to secure a spot right in the middle, directly in the front of the stage. While I was delighted with our coveted spots, I grew increasingly uncomfortable as the growing crowd pressed in on us.




I am not one for close proximity to a lot of other people, especially strangers. I am fine on a bustling street in New York City or corralled in assigned seating at a theater. But put me in an unleashed, uncontrolled throng of humanity and you can witness my dissolve.

So, during the opening band (a great, new start up band by the name of CB7) I practiced deep Lamaze-like breathing and willed myself to just let go and enjoy. When CB7 finished, we thankfully were joined by another friend of Taylor’s, and her Mom and the Mom’s friend. (Why I was thankful will be explained momentarily.)

Once the headliner, 30 Seconds to Mars (30STM), took the stage and Jared Leto shouted to the crowd “take three big steps…forward” (when I thought that three steps back would have been advisable) the crowd of hundreds pushed forward insistently.





There was suddenly a shove from behind. I stumbled and quickly righted myself. The other Mothers and I looked indignantly at the offenders behind us. There was a group of young men directly behind us who were staring up at the stage, zombie-like and throwing their bodies in that general direction. I did shove back, and like the uncool Mom that I am, reminded them (in my shouty-loud voice) that there are children here, BE CAREFUL!

Like trees bending to the wind, the crowd of people around us started to sway in accordance with the force created by the fans. Being familiar with my personal limits and quirks, Taylor had warned me earlier (being more unexpectedly wise in this particular situation) that I may have to take leave. We had already decided upon a meeting place and that I would carry all purses or personal items if I should decide to flee.

Though I greatly wanted to stay put and enjoy the music from my ideal front-and-center spot, my neuroses won out. I grabbed Taylor’s arm and I am quite sure that the look on my face was one of horror. I fully expected that the same terror would be reflected in her features when she turned her head to look at me. Instead, what I saw on her face was pure glee. She was one with this scene. I asked for her backpack, which she handed to me gratefully. I then grabbed the arm of the Mother of the other friend of Taylor’s and gasped, “Are you staying here?” She was completely nonplussed by what was going around her (further solidifying that fact that I am the nutty one) and responded with enthusiasm, “YES!” I told her that I had to get out of the crowd. Both she and her friend looked at me with surprise that I would willingly give up my prime standing spot. They promised to watch Taylor and her friend, as I elbowed my way out.

I found a spot very close to the side of the stage where I had a great view of the band and could kind of see what was going on where my daughter and her friends were.





Only after the panic and adrenaline had lessened their course through my body, was I was able to process emotion and thought again.

I felt guilt – it began to consume me almost immediately, even though I had left Taylor and her friend with other Mothers. Where are they…OH, I see their hands…waving pumping fists..they must be okay, right?

And then, Holy shit – I am 41 years old and somehow unwittingly found myself on the sidelines of an almost mosh-pit. Aren’t I supposed to be too old for this?

A few moments later….it looks like fun! After all, when some of the enthusiastic fans migrated ever closer to the stage, I was immediately reminded of some of my younger days. I used to circle and dance around the edges of mosh-pits! I was there when the term was invented, dammit!

I was torn between my adult Mommy and my carefree youthful self.

I found a few other comrade Mothers who had chosen to watch the concert from our shared view point. I soon realized that my fear was (mostly) unwarranted. From where I was, I also got a close up view of the lead singer becoming enamored with a fan who was wheelchair-bound. Jared insisted that he be carried onto the stage in order to enjoy the experience up-close.

The other Moms I had huddled with on the sidelines were also fans of 30STM's music, they had young sons and daughters in the crowd in front of the stage and they had no personal desire to be a part of it. One woman, a photographer had met Jared Leto in person, another had taken her 17 year old daughter to see as many 30STM concerts as they could reasonably get to or afford, and another had not only her 13 and 15 year old children in that mass of humanity in front of the stage, but also two high school exchange students. (Who would certainly return to their respective homeland countries with a slightly skewed view of the USA.)

The girls returned to me after the last song, relatively unharmed and just simply vibrating with excitement and breathlessness. “Best concert EVER!” was their refrain while I dusted of my last vestiges of worry and concern. We purchased complementary t-shirts for them to wear to school the next day and went home.

The dichotomy of the two wildly different concerts hit me a couple of days later. I felt as though I had straddled some sort of musical, lyrical span between my youth and my adulthood, all in one 36 hour period.

From the guitar strumming soothing ‘Come Monday’ to the energetic beats of ‘Kings and Queens.’

I am simply amazed at how music can define a decade, evoke feelings, span generations and join people.
So tell me, how has music moved you? What are your memorable concerts? Does certain music make you feel like a certain season of yourself?




*** I am Christian and do recognize the sanctity of the day. He has risen, indeed.