Memories, misty water-color or cold hard digital

As I mentioned in a previous post, there are several other blogs that I read. One of them, jennster wrote a very evocative post about the mementos that she saves. Letters, journals, photo albums and yearbooks.

It got me to thinking as I share the same tendency.

To wit: I committed one large cardboard box to all of the written memories of my younger years. It contains the clandestine notes that I saved (from various teacher’s grips) from Middle and High School; the love notes scribbled on scrap paper; and the lengthier letters, still stuffed in their original envelopes from friends or paramours who were not close by. There are also the poems that I wrote, when I envisioned myself as a tragic teen poet while listening to (and heavily borrowing from) Air Supply, Journey, and REO Speedwagon.

Additionally, I have carefully kept all of my Yearbooks. I have tucked newspaper articles into the pages that tell of the triumphs of my former classmates as well as those that contain the obituaries of those who have passed.

And my photos…I would be bereft without them. My childhood and teen years are painstakingly logged by my long-ago-sophomoric hands in now water damaged and smudged photo albums. There are a couple of photo books that contain pictures from my early twenties…and then of course there are the albums from Taylor’s babyhood. Those pictures of her first smile, first movement, first solid food, first (insert milestone here) experience and in various poses with her adoring family are lovingly catalogued.

Once she hit 5, and I 30, the photos remained in their developer’s envelopes. I rely on my handwritten dates of when they were developed to pile them in a haphazard way into several large boxes.

Now, a decade later, many of my memories and photos are in a different place. One that gives me unease. For the last 12 or so years, in this age of technology, most of my correspondence with old and current friends takes place via e-mail or more recently on Facebook. I already have one whole HUGE, ancient old desktop computer I cannot bear to part with because I know it contains the equivalent of a cardboard box full of e-mails from my late 20’s and early 30’s. Also, too much of my daughter’s youth has been captured via a digital camera.

An entire generation has their memories on soft copy. As convenient as it is…it is too easily erased.

When I travel to NYC the second week of July, I have strong desire to bring my trusty 35 mm Canon A1 and a notebook. Otherwise, many years from now when I am gone…there may not be a record of when I see my daughter for the first time in 30 days…for all posterity.

To underscore my thoughts on real versus digital images, Edith Shain died today. She was the young nurse grabbed for a dip and kiss which was captured in the iconic photo (and the one at the beginning of this post) that embodied the end of WWII. I can’t help but wonder if that fleeting, yet triumphant moment might have been overlooked if Alfred Eisenstaedt had a digital camera.

So to all the horders and holders, how do you feel about trusting your memories to the digital age? How to you hold onto your precious hard and e-copies of your memories?

A Prelude to Goodbye

I never imagined it would be this hard.

I put my 14 year old daughter, Taylor on a flight to go to sleep-away camp for two weeks last Sunday.

When she finishes her 2 week camp, she is not immediately coming home but will continue her summer adventure. Traveling from a remote lakeside in Maine, she will then stay with my sister-in-law Dina in Portland, ME.

Dina is a single gal in the city and is hands down the “cool” Auntie. She will treat Taylor to a least a day or two in the relatively metropolitan city of Portland. Taylor and Dina have a special bond…which includes the Twilight series of movies. Conveniently (and serendipitously) the movie ‘Eclipse’ releases during the time Taylor is with Dina, so they will get to see the third movie of the series together, just as they have the first two.

Then, Dina will drive Taylor to the middle of the state of Maine, to stay with my wonderful In-Laws and friends of ours.

My Mother-In-Law and Father-In-Law live on a farm, in a house that is more than 100 years old, in Milo, ME. A real honest-to-god farm. Don and Deanne are the most wonderful people. Big Don is the salt and sage of their little town and Deanne is its heartbeat. They are looking forward to hosting my daughter and spoiling her in the way that only Grandparents can do.

My other sister-in-law, Darcy lives in the area with her two beautiful children, Jake (12) and Hillary (8). They all also have said how excited they are to see Taylor and spend time with her. I have a feeling that Hillary will be glued to Taylor’s side every chance that she gets.

Then Taylor will also visit our friends, Ronnie and Lori Towne and their daughter, Allie. Ronnie and Donnie (insert laugh here) have been best friends since grade school…Lori was my Matron of Honor for my wedding to Donnie…Taylor and Allie have been best buddies for all the years that their parents have been friends and traveled together.

Then my travel-happy kid will get on a flight from Portland, ME to NYC. She will be picked up by another good friend, Courtney, who currently lives in on the Upper East Side of Manhattan.

Courtney (another “cool” Auntie) also has plans to spoil Tay and take her for a pedicure in the big city.

After Taylor spends a couple of days with Courtney in NYC (which she is supposed to be babysitting, as a “Mommy’s Helper”), Donnie and I are flying up to NYC to meet her.

Our family will then spend several days soaking up NYC…staying with the Groomes, and taking in a Broadway Show.

I have spent countless hours ensuring a memorable trip / vacation for Taylor.

The day previous to Taylor’s departure last Saturday, I drove myself (and her) crazy with my ever increasing and shrill inquiries…”DID YOU REMEMBER TO PACK…(insert necessary item here)”

I pride myself on being level headed, results oriented and a general cool customer all the way around. But when faced with saying goodbye to my darling daughter, who had been the focus of my life for almost the last 15 years, I kind of fell apart.

Knowing that this was the dress rehearsal for her inevitable final leap from the nest, I was teary…no, I was soggy from the tears.

I keenly miss her right now, even though I know she is enjoying the experience of a lifetime.

I just didn’t expect to miss her this much. As she has been the focus of my life…it is definitely difficult to refocus on anything else.

I hope the next four years pass VERY slowly.

I would love to hear how anyone else (mothers / parents) survived sleep-away Camp, High School, College…without their heart breaking…

Cruising

As I mentioned previously, I just returned from my first cruise on Friday. Well, it was my first cruise that lasted longer than a few hours. As a product of South Florida, I have been on several day, dinner and evening (read gambling) cruises.

This was the first time that I carried luggage aboard and had to surrender myself to the whims of an unknown captain, his boat and its hyperactive schedule. In tow were my husband (who had already been on a cruise) and my 14 year old daughter (who never had been – but was salivating at the prospect of freedom at the ‘teen club’ and late curfews that I had promised her.)

I felt agoraphobic and like I had a touch of vertigo the first evening. There were just SO many people, and the tour to the upper deck to the water slides made me dizzy.

The next day, we landed in our first of two destinations, Key West. Now, I absolutely love Key West. I have visited so many times, and I probably bore people with my endless verbal facts about its history.

However, we were there to witness the marriage of my friend Deborah and her new husband Peter. Thus, we were there only a brief time. Back onboard, Deborah and Peter had a lovely reception, which ended a couple of hours prior to sunset.

I went up to the Lido Deck, which housed most of the dining and also the pool. It was here that I could have the best view of the ocean that was sponsoring our trip across its surface. The Lido deck was also the best spot for people-watching. As I sat and thought about my own aversion to cruising, I was also afforded a front row seat to those who embrace this type of travel.

After a couple of days, I started to categorize them…and put them in my own buckets of people “who like to cruise.”

There were some larger groups, not just in numbers, but also in girth. They were seated at tables, just like myself, but they usually had mounds of food in front of them. I termed them as the “Foodies.” All of the meals, snacks and formal several course dinners onboard are included in the price you pay before you sail.

Food is one of the starring attractions for these cruisers. Food is available, however you want it and wherever you want it (including room service to your cabin). It is easy to get caught up in the feeding frenzy.

I am normally not an early eater. A cup of coffee and some fruit is typically my fare prior to noon. But on a cruise? Which verboten starch would I prefer? English Muffin? Or perhaps a flaky croissant? Fuck the fruit, as there was also REAL (not turkey) bacon being loaded onto my plate.

The more formal evening dinners had three courses with multiple choices: appetizer, main course and dessert. We sampled everything. Until, with my gut heavy and my bowels unregulated I put a stop to the gluttony by the second day. Just because the food is there, doesn’t mean I must eat it. But, the “Foodies” definitely have their place at the table. (A little pun intended.)

There are the "parents." The ones that were trying unsuccessfully to herd their children in one direction. I witnessed younger parents trying to corral their children while they, the parents, were having beers at the pool. They were continually negotiating with each other as to who would get next “watch” over the little screaming, shouting, slippery-wet ankle biters that were their progeny.

I also watched a single Mom with her little girl navigate the deck and pool area. Her entire trip consisted of watching her 5 year old girl leap in and out of the pool. My heart leapt out every time I watched her watch her daughter. Her gaze was not annoyed…but gently joyous as she watched her daughter frolic. I was reminded keenly of when I was a single Mom.

Then there are the "Cruisers." Usually middle aged, they want to cruise…just for the sake of it. The ports of call are just bonuses. I happened upon a couple of them on my first night…and was heartened by their joie de vivre. They tended to sit quietly on an upper deck in the evenings to watch the sun set.

Then there is us. A quiet family. Willing and grateful Cruisers by accident.

On the third day, we took in the hot sidewalks and shopping of downtown Cozumel. Jeez, those shop owners were as relentless as the sun that beat down on us. Though we were in port until 10 PM, our tired little family of three dragged ourselves back onto the Ship at 5:15. And then we all took loooong naps.

The last night, I went up to the Lido deck once again. We were cruising back from Mexico to South Florida. Our location was right in between the Dry Tortugas and the North Western tip of Cuba. I was enjoying being in the moment, sailing across the sea, my loved ones close by.

Suddenly, I noticed two pelicans, flying alongside the boat…almost at eye level. I marveled at them. How far had they come? Had they seen the oil in the water and come out this far to get nourishment?

Then the pelicans dove down into the water in tandem, both of them catching fish…and stayed at the surface gulping their booty and bobbing in the waves as the Cruise Ship left them behind. As they disappeared from view, I said a little prayer for them and wished them health. Despite the icky, awful mess we have left for them in the Gulf.

Initially, my darling daughter had proclaimed the entire cruise affair as boring. She had met just a handful of contemporaries in the “teen club” she had so yearned to be a part of. (She is 14 and a half – I had convinced the director that she could be placed in the 15 to 17 group rather than the less desirable 12 to 14 group.)

However, on our last evening on the ship, Tay met a young man. One so polite that he insisted on walking her to her room.

All of a sudden, my daughter was feeling the heartbeat that all of us have felt as teenagers. She was at turns dreamy and then moody.

Her heart’s awaking is the biggest stop on for her this tour… and I thank God that I get to be a part of it. She was so eager to tell me what happened He was kind, he wanted to meet her Mom, he plays video games. He is taller than her. She sucked in her breath when he played with her hair. They kissed.

I am grateful that my daughter had this experience and that she shared it with me. I am even more grateful that the young lad lives in Texas. (ha, ha)

I also read a fantastic book whilst onboard. “This Is Not The Story You Think It Is: A Season of Unlikely Happiness.” It is a phenomenal tale of positive thinking and finding peace within yourself. It was the perfect book to read on this trip and at this juncture in my life.

Cruising was a very new experience for me…and one I am thankful for. I return to the office that I love (and that pays my bills) tomorrow. I would love to hear any insights from those who love to go on cruises…did I miss something? Should I plan another?

Bon Voyage

Not that I am a prolific blogger, but I will not be blogging for a good 6 days at least. Tomorrow morning, my husband, my daughter and I leave for a cruise. The stops are Key West and Cozumel.

It is also the destination wedding of my good friend, Deborah. While “cruising” has never been my thing, I am excited to be a part of her wedding as the Matron of Honor.

Actually, going on a cruise is just a tad terrifying to me. Images of Titanic dance through my head. And though class traveling rules no longer apply, I made sure that our family’s room was above sea level and not below decks in “steerage.”

I highly doubt that there will be any icebergs between Miami and Cozumel, but I just feel more comfortable with a window (well, porthole) above sea level.

However, on our journey from Key West to Cozumel, we may encounter the oil slick. Which sickens me…every time I read about it or now see the ever increasing photos of wildlife coated in it and dying from it.

I remember as a South Florida child of the 70’s, every time I went to the beach I could expect to have tar on my feet and legs. Indeed, alongside of the outdoor showers at the top of the beach there was always a turpentine station back then. It was just expected that beach goers would have tar (oil) on their bodies.

I just realized in light of this recent catastrophic event that the turpentine stations of my childhood had been long gone. My daughter has gone to a local camp every summer and has never experienced tar in her hair or on her legs. Another case of not realizing what you have until it’s gone – a clean and safe ocean.

Now I worry about the next generation. The formerly pristine and beautiful Gulf of Mexico may well be a hot mess of decay.

I just hope that BP follows through and cleans up as much of the mess as possible.

I return from our cruise on Friday morning. I will be documenting the entire time, via the netbook my husband thoughtfully gave to me. And, I will post my experiences upon my return. (Not willing to pay the price for international internet service)

My best wishes to Deborah and Peter, the Bride and Groome we are honoring and traveling with. (Just finished coaching my Husband through the final draft of his best man speech!)

Bon Voyage!

A Passing

Tonight was a celebration of women-hood for me and 12 other women when we went to see Sex and the City 2. I totally enjoyed the movie, clapped and laughed out loud in the appropriate parts.

I walked out of the theater and checked my phone, as I always do when my daughter is away from me.

My iPhone proclaimed that I had one missed call and a voice mail from Amy. Amy is my daughter’s step-mother…and as much as I had always hoped for a close relationship with her, it has never been so. So, upon seeing her number on my phone, I had a chill of advance warning. As I rode the escalator down from the theater, I listened to the very unexpected message she had left, and I heard the dreaded news. Taylor’s Grandfather, who had been battling cancer and then pneumonia, had passed late the previous evening. Amy had the forethought to call me and let me know in advance of her and her husband breaking the news to Taylor. My heart broke.

I struggled to keep my emotions in check, and from the tears rolling down my cheeks. I got into my friend Deb’s car to go back to my house for an “after party.”

I called Amy on the way back to my home. I am very grateful that as challenging as it must have been for her, Amy handed the phone over to her husband…my ex…I was not able to control my emotions by this point and just said, “I am so sorry…let me know if there is anything I can do.” He just said, “It’s really sad.”

I spoke to Taylor later this evening. She kept saying, “I’m FINE Mom.”

But she was choking on the words.

I wish that I could be there for her – to hold and reassure her. But right now, given that she is with her Dad and his family, all I can do is pray.

When I found out that I was pregnant with Tay, her Father and I chose to share the news with our parents in a very individual and special way.

We gave each of them hand written notes, sharing with them which of the traits that they had that we hoped that our daughter would inherit. To Richard we wrote that we hoped our unborn daughter would get his artistic skills and dry humor.

Tay has both of those traits – in spades.

Richard Oakley, thank you for making hand-made birthday cards for your grand-daughter, thank you for picking her up from school when I couldn’t, thank you for teaching her to fish….thank you for providing a wonderful example of how to love.

Thank you for being such a wonderful Grandfather. You are already missed so very, very much.

For the love of Killer (Whales)

I don’t remember exactly when I began my love affair with killer whales. I only know that it has been long and passionate.

Like many Floridians, my family made annual sojourns to Walt Disney World and Sea World. My parents would pack the wood paneled station wagon full of their ever numbering daughters to make the three hour trip to Orlando. Dad always did the driving and Mom would do the over-packing. My Mother’s priorities when it came to traveling with her family seem a little funny to me now. We HAD to wear flip flops every step when walking around in the hotel room and even had to wear them into the shower…lest we catch Athletes Foot. (We even called them “shower shoes”)

However, for breakfast we were served crackers with Cheese Whiz on them…so that we could save money by not eating in a touristy, expensive restaurant. While I understand the logic behind both, it just seems like such a juxtaposition to save a child’s soles in the evening while rotting her gut the next morning.

While I always enjoyed Disney, The Happiest Place on Earth and eagerly awaited riding on my favorite rides, it was the trips to Sea World that fed my junior soul.

The sea lions; how cute they were and how they could bark on cue. Huge and humorous looking because of their considerable girth, they could always make me laugh.

The sharks; how deadly they looked gliding through the water. To me their movement compared to the other fish looked like the aquatic version of the purposeful march of a blood-thirsty soldier next to the ambling walk of a civilian.

Once the new exhibitions at the park later opened I also loved the penguins, especially the ones with the adorable orange plumes on their heads (Rockhoppers), and the Moray Eels. The serpentine Morays were languid and mysterious…to this day scientists are unsure of some of their most private habits, like how they mate and bear young.

Of course there are the dolphins; the perennial crowd favorite. Lightly leaping, smiling and cavorting with their trainers. As much as they seemed to be everyone’s favorite sea mammal, they seemed just a tad too pedestrian to me. They lacked an edge.

Then, there are my favorite, the majestic, striking looking and awe-inspiring Killer Whales. Orcinus orca. Sea World has built their parks around this unlikely captive animal.

The Orca is actually the largest of the dolphin family. As such, they are not only very intelligent animals but also very social ones. In the wild, they typically reside in pods dominated by a matriarch and can live to be 90 years old. Their diet, depending on their social structure can be anything from fish to other marine mammals. They communicate…vociferously. They can plot and plan. And they are HUGE. An adult male can weigh in excess of 6 tons.

I felt a special bond when I learned during a trip to Sea World when I was just a few days past my 16th birthday that the first “Baby Shamu” had been born, just one day after my own. (It was only when confirming dates for this blog posting that I learned that it was the only captive Orca baby to survive longer than a few days.)

Later, when I lived in the Orlando area in my early twenties, I had a season pass to Sea World. I got to tour the exhibits at my leisure. I took in many ‘Shamu Shows.’ Back then, the park employees ignored you if you stayed in the stadium to watch the beautiful whales.

I remember, with great clarity, going up to the glass at the front of the empty stadium…where I caught the eye of one of the Orcas doing her laps. I raised my left arm and bent to my right. She did the same. (Well, actually her ‘arm’ was a fin) Next lap around she hesitated and did a “spy hop,” looking at me, a good portion of her bulk out of the water and over the glass. She settled and kind of slid back in and did another lap.

This time, when she came back around and stopped again, I was ready. Armed with the memory of the movements I had witnessed the trainers doing, I spun around and she copied me. We moved closer to each other and I saw the playfulness mixed with the intelligence in her eyes. I backed away and she did the same. I dipped my head down and then threw it back…then, I was completely doused with a mixture of salt water and whale spit. (I had asked for it!) She dove back into the water.

This close encounter coupled with my burgeoning knowledge of this amazing species served to turn me into a total Orca Whale groupie.

I have become a devotee of a certain artists, including the renowned Whaling Wall one, Wyland. I actually scheduled a vacation around watching him create his 13th mural in as many weeks in Key West in the early 90’s. I still love and covet his work today, even though I cannot afford it.

I belong to groups on Facebook who support and track our beautiful Orca whales in the wild. Lately, there have been many controversial posts about Tillicum, the Orca that has now been involved with 3 human deaths. (My opinions on that would be another whole post)

I have decorated my home with photos, mementos and bric-a-brac that all contain the ocean to some degree and more specifically, Orcas.

As some of my readers may know, I am Matron of Honor for a wedding this June. And, my MOH gift was a crystal rendition of my favorite marine mammal, in sparkling black and white.

More permanently, when I chose to ink my almost 40 year old aging body with a tattoo, it was with the image of an Orca and her baby, as a representation of myself and my daughter – done creatively by Mike Haugh, tattoo artist extraordinaire in Key West (well, Stock Island), FL. (The image in the beginning of this post)

Being an Orca lover has become part of me over the years…it is part of who I am.

Going to Victoria BC to see them is my number one fantasy destination.

At the end of the day, one of the things that resonates the most with me is something I read quite awhile ago.

All mammals originated in the ocean. Then they all crawled onto land. A few went back into the sea. The rest stayed.

Now I ask you, who was the wiser species?

SATC

Last Friday I got up at 2:30 in the morning. My alarm was buzzing and my husband gently shook my arm. “Honey, the tickets are available,” he said. I shot upright, and staggered to the computer. Eureka! He was right. I had been stalking the Boca Raton Cinemark Theater site for the last two weeks, waiting for this very moment. Adrenaline was rushing through my veins and my hands were shaking as I clicked to purchase 16 of the highly coveted seats. I waited for the confirmation e-mail and then had to drink a cup of Sleepy Time tea to calm myself enough to go back to sleep for a couple of hours before the work day.

Why all the fuss and the sacrifice of sleep? Premier Tickets to see Sex and the City 2.

By saying ‘Premier,’ I am not referring to opening night. The movie will actually open the day before (which I find odd – what movie opens on a Thursday?) But for me, Premier means seeing the movie in a very posh fashion. Here in Boca, our movie theater has an upstairs restaurant, bar and theater. The seating is assigned and they are comfortable, plush love seats. There is real food and cocktails for purchase and free popcorn with an assortment of optional flavorings. I was first introduced to seeing a movie in this elite fashion by my friend Di when we saw Dreamgirls a few years ago. Since then I refer to seeing a movie in regular seats as ‘sitting in steerage.’

It was here that I saw the first Sex and the City (SATC) movie in 2008 with 7 other bright, beautiful women. This time around, I strived to bring even more lovely women to celebrate the movie with me. And after my early morning ticket buying – I stand triumphant.

I was late-comer in the game with regards to SATC the TV show. I rented the first season on DVD on a whim, intending the rental to be a balance and distraction for a Super Bowl Party and ended up watching it straight through. I absolutely fell in love with the characters and the writing. I was single at the time, and the story lines spoke to me in volumes.

After my first taste of the show on DVD, I upped my cable package with a subscription to HBO. Every Sunday night was eagerly awaited. Many times I hosted Cosmo nights at my humble little abode. (To this day, give me a good bottle of vodka, cranberry juice, Cointreau, a lime wedge and a shaker and I will make you the best Cosmopolitan you’ve ever had.)

When the finale of the show aired, me and one of my best friends sat crossed legged, inches from the TV as to not miss a minute. (And to drown out loud, playing children in the background.) Tears rolled down my face when Big announced to Carrie, “you’re the one.”

When the first SATC movie came out, I eagerly invited friends to share the experience with me. It was one of my best memories ever.

This time, I have upped the ante and there will be 15 other women with me, watching the ever important story line with me.

I am SO not a joiner, so I have wondered, what makes SATC so special to me?

Firstly, character association. I have taken several tests to determine which SATC character I am most like.

As much as I want it to be Samantha, most of the time, test results proclaim that I am Charlotte. The Do-gooder, the planner. The One Who Wants to Marry. (Egads- and please send help.) But, this association is not all bad. Charlotte is a sticky glue that keeps the girls together. Her Pollyannaish view of the world is not entirely unlike mine. I have a firm belief that everything will work out well – as it is supposed to.

Occasionally, I get the Carrie result. The writer. The one who documents for all of posterity.

But, I never end up with the result that I am like Miranda…even though her character (businesswoman) is a part of me as well.

To this day, my favorite scene from the HBO TV Show is the one where the four girls are having breakfast and Samantha says, “I am dating a guy with the funkiest tasting spunk.” There are quick camera angles of all of the girls exchanging looks…and then Charlotte gets up and leaves, shoving open the door of the restaurant purposefully. Miranda leans into Carrie and says in an ominous tone, “…and she’s never coming back!” I laughed out loud.

I love these fictitious women – with all of their faults and foibles.

These women represent all of us, in some way or another. It is the unending story of women’s friendships that keeps me hooked on SATC and keeps me coming back….year after year. And I am grateful beyond any words that I have women friends in my life. They (Rachel, Janna, Janet, Deb, et al) keep me sane.

How about you – which SATC character are you and why?