Random Thoughts: Don’t Get Pithy With Me

Why these lodge in my brain, I don’t know…

• After Osama Bin Laden was killed: After 9/11, we united in mourning. Tonight, we united in celebration. Let's hope the next reunion doesn't take almost 10 years.

• Rapture Observation #1: Sign of the pending apocalypse #2747 — The person cutting your hair compares your cowlicks to crop circles.

• Rapture Observation #2: Note to friends who like R.E.M. — If it really is the end of the world as we know it, then why am I not feeling better about the situation?

• Rapture Observation #3: OK, so who said the Rapture had to occur at 6 p.m. EST? Not that I'm worried or anything, but I think we gotta give it until 6 p.m. PST. No wait, what other countries are not in our time zone? Should we wait until 6 p.m. their time, too? At this rate, it could be Tuesday here before it's Rapture time somewhere else, so I guess I just have to stay tuned... Or not.

• When the Day is Just Not Going Well #1: I’ve had the sort of day that can be summarized in this lyric: "Sometimes you're the windshield. Sometimes you're the bug."

• Religion and Sports: I enjoyed reuniting with Seekers (not the Rapture kind) for three hours of softball practice/scrimmaging today. Despite not having played for almost a year, I was in midseason form. (Of course, when you have no form, the time of the season truly doesn't matter...)

• Obscure Pop Culture Reference #1: Airing tonight on TNT in a 24-hour continuous loop — "An Easter Story" (2011). Ralphie's grandson is relentless in his pursuit of a new golf umbrella as he walks the streets of Manhattan. The only problem: His parents won't let him get one because they're the only parents who believe that umbrellas will poke someone's eye out.

• Why Would Anyone Do This? Bumper sticker of the day, seen on a car pulling into a Wal-Mart: "My baby daddy was inmate of the month. Freedom Bail Bonds."

• When It Is 105 Degrees Outside … In June: I’m not terribly familiar with the game of golf, but I'm convinced that Mother Nature needs a mulligan.

• Beauty Tip of the Day: I can assure you, if I ever get to take a vacation, you won't see a picture of my feet by the water. Nothing against the water; I just don't like my feet.

• Obscure Pop Culture Reference #2: There's so much spam on Facebook today (Osama, how you look in 40 years) that I'm starting to feel like a Monty Python group member at an all-you-can-eat buffet.

• The Power of Creativity: I’ve been listening to music this evening — the usual diverse groups of musicians who make no sense on anyone's mix tape — and am reminded of the power of creativity that electrifies our lives. If I can tap into that collective for just a few minutes, then life as I know it will be complete.

• When the Day is Just Not Going Well #2: It's a bad day when you feel like approaching the convenience store clerk with a 12-pack of beer and asking if they have a co-pay.

• The After the Sleepless Night Because of the Hurricane: Based on Facebook status updates in the Greater Washington D.C. area, WTOP has announced that a "nap watch" will start at noon today and move into a "nap warning" by 3 p.m.

• After a Hurricane and an Earthquake in the Course of 2 Weeks: My nominee for Time's Person of the Year — Mother Nature.

• Overheard at Lunch: "Nothing ticks me off more than eavesdropping on a boring conversation."

• OK, So This One is Pretty Pithy: You know you're a grown up when writer's block replaces penis envy on the top 10 list of stressors in your life.

• When the Day is Just Not Going Well #3: It's a bad day when you walk into a meeting and the other person excuses himself to get his wet blanket out of the car.

Reflections: 9/11

For the past couple of weeks, as the coverage of the 10^th anniversary of 9/11 has moved into full 24/7 media frenzy, I’ve thought about addressing it here. And I don’t know how.

Memories that I thought had receded have rushed back like the floodwaters that hit Northern Virginia earlier this week. But my perspective is personal, not societal, and my memories by comparison are nothing next to the feelings that others must be experiencing today.

I remember it like it was yesterday, just like you do. I know what I was doing when the first call came in, just like I remember vividly seeing the Challenger explode in the sky 15 years earlier, or where we were when the levees broke in New Orleans four summers after my generation’s Pearl Harbor.

I remember frantically trying to call my family — I was in Pennsylvania writing a story, Jill was in Virginia, my parents were in Texas. I remember the eerie silence when I returned home the next evening, and how it lingered until planes were allowed to fly again from National Airport.

I remember the pledges of cooperation among our political leaders, and the vows to track down the people who had done this. And how that spirit of cooperation — that feeling that we all are in this together — didn’t last, at least among our members of Congress.

I remember riding my bike to the Pentagon and to Arlington Cemetery at 7:30 a.m. on the first anniversary of 9/11, pulled there by something but silent even then.

I remember the first time we took our kids to the World Trade Center site, reading the names of the missing and dead on a cold winter day two years after it happened. I remember how my stomach sank as we scanned the list, just as it did when I walked through the Vietnam Memorial in Washington, D.C., for the first time at age 18.

I remember reading about and watching — with a mixture of insatiable curiosity and morbid fascination — the first season of “Rescue Me,” the show about the brave but damaged firefighters suffering from survivor’s guilt after making it through 9/11.

I remember revisiting the story I was writing on 9/11/01 for the fifth anniversary, determined to do it justice even as I was taking on a new job.

I remember the death of my second “mom” — Fran — on the sixth anniversary of 9/11, just six weeks after my dad’s death.

I remember sitting in the assistant principal’s office at Ben’s new school two years ago, having just moved him to New York, and listening as the administrators debated the exact times to have moments of silent reflection. I remember leaving the school and walking to a memorial service honoring those killed from the Engine 54 station down the street.

I remember the little boy standing quietly, dressed in his FDNY dress blues and hat, not saying a word. I remember how his mom held the boy — who likely was a baby when 9/11 occurred — tightly to her and how he turned to give her a hug when the ceremony ended.

Leave the commentary to the pundits. Watch what you will — or don’t. I saw what I needed to see when that boy hugged his mom.

On a day like this, these moments of self reflection — realizing just how fortunate I am to be where I am and to have the family and friends that I do, thanks to the selfless sacrifice of others — are enough.

I don’t know what else to say…

The "Why" Factor

At some point in a child’s nascent development, he or she starts asking “Why?” It’s nice to think that it’s because your son or daughter is trying to better understand the issue at hand. But quickly you realize the underlying factor: “Why?” is just the first salvo in the negotiation process.

• “But why do I need to finish my homework now?”

• “Why should I do that? It’s her turn.”

• “Why won’t you let me do that?”

• “Why would you embarrass me like that?”

Of course, when you have teenagers, "Why?" can take on another form. For example, you tell them you're cleaning the bathroom and their response is, "Why?"

Every response, regardless of political disposition, starts sounding like Ronald Reagan: “Well…”

“Smiling at Costco”

Given the start of school — and the running around we must do to get supplies — stores like Wal-Mart and Staples are slammed this time of year. Earlier this week, a friend sighed when I asked if she was prepared for another school year to begin.

"Nope," she said. "I've got to spend this weekend running around to get all of the supplies. Costco is going to love me by Monday."

That reminded me of a former work colleague, who several years ago told me that her then-boyfriend seemed to like Costco more than he liked her. They later got engaged and, as a "present," I wrote this tongue-in-cheek "country song."

Needless to say, the relationship didn't last, although I don't think this was to blame for it.

“Smiling at Costco” (to the tune of any George Jones song)

On our first date they made us show ID.
He pulled out his card, winked and said, 
“Let’s see.”

I blushed and turned away,
Not knowing what to say.
Who knew this was his favorite place to be?

I’d never seen anything like it before.
Where I grew up,
There’s no room for this type of store.

I asked him if this was where he brings all his dates.
He checked his watch – “It’s getting late.”
We hurried inside, and I did not know
Where my life was going to go.

We sampled microwaved food at the various stops.
“Fresh corn,” the vendor said. “Nearby crops.”
Her plastic covered hand offered me a chance to say,

I wish he’d smile at me
The way he smiles when
He’s in Costco.

As we walked down the aisle,
The fluorescent lights blinking all the while,
I wondered if this is what life should bring.

He says there’s no need to sulk.
You can’t buy what we have in bulk.

Wouldn’t ya know, it’s my luck.
But I won’t say that this just sucks. 

I just wish he’d smile at me
The way he smiles when
He’s in Costco.

I thought I’d found it all
But as I waited for his call.
I wondered if he really knew.

He works the floor like a pro.
Shows me the tires and the towels
And the Mop-and-Glo.

He loves the size of econo-paks
And swears it’s not something that I lack.
I wish I had the tact
But I can’t turn back now.

I wish he’d smile at me
The way he smiles when
He’s in Costco.

He says there’s no need to sulk.
You can’t buy what we have in bulk.

I thought of my wedding day.
You can’t find this sort of guy at Sam’s – no way.

I’ve harbored a secret dream
To get married on a cement floor.
Sometimes I suppress a scream.
But I’ll never show him the door.

Cause I know that someday soon
He’ll smile at me
The way he smiles when
He’s in Costco.

Tell A Story in 100 Words or Less, Part 5

My 3-year-old son and I went to see my parents in Texas. It was his turn to ride on a plane. Benjamin wasn't nervous; he entertained rows 18-30 with tales of swimming ("If you don't move your feet, you'll sink like a stone!") and said landing was "just a big bump." In Texas, Benjamin and his grandfather shared a common love of toys, and Granddaddy gave him several Superheroes to take home. On our way back, he played with the plastic toys, then leaned up, smiled, and gave me a kiss. For a brief moment, I was his Superhero.

Why, hello there…

It’s been a while.

I periodically take breaks from writing to concentrate on other things in life — job, spouse, children, the usual stuff. Ideas are constantly coming and going like cars on the autobahn, but something prevents me from turning them into something that’s at least somewhat entertaining.

Recently, when I’ve had the time to work on a blog entry or something for work, my brain/fingers don’t cooperate. When the brain is working – shower, in the car -- the time is never right. And then everything else gets in the way.

I realized earlier this week that I had not filed a blog entry since early July. Wondering why, I decided to check my version of a diary — status updates on Facebook. (Remember, all status updates start with your name. I try to finish the phrase by starting with a verb, but that’s not always successful.)

See if you notice a trend...

End of June:

• I've spent the days of summer (3 thus far) in a darkened auditorium taking pictures of my girls (and anyone else I could shoot) doing 5 hour rehearsals of "Grease" (w/dance recital material thrown in for good measure). It is almost July, and I still look like someone who has not had sun since 1998.

July:

• It's been a good day ... on many levels. Wish Jill was here to celebrate the many things we all have to be thankful for. (To my editor friends, sorry for ending that last sentence in a preposition, but it's late.)

• Has had a wonderful day with Emma. Toured the Harry Potter Exhibition at Discovery Times Square (her version of nerdvana), ate treats at the Cake Boss cafe (see 13th b'day pics if you want to know why that's important), and had a good time with Ben, Neil and Ginno during the dinner break. It's been a lot of fun.

• Made the pilgrimage to the Lincoln Memorial with the kids tonight, something we do every time Nicholas is in town. I'm truly amazed by how much they have grown up over the past year.

• Congratulates Ben on his one-year anniversary in Billy Elliot! He has performed in 416 consecutive shows without missing a beat — a remarkable feat for anyone, let alone a 13-year-old who also went to school full-time. We are very proud of you, son!!!

• Has another one of those weekends lined up. Jill is in Boone today and tomorrow moving her dad. Kate is at a camp. Emma is meeting me in NY tonight and we'll get Ben. Nick is in North Carolina and going out of town. Yes, it is summer...

• Survived the midnight premiere of the last "Harry Potter" and is at work while the kids sleep in...

• Has taken Ben and Neil McCaffrey (happy 13th birthday, Neil!) to the train station, is schlepping Kate to camp, and has seen Jill off to her meeting in Georgia. And it's not even 9 a.m...

• Took Katharine to a two-week wilderness camp today, a 520 mile roundtrip that featured three vicious storms, a 12-mile stretch of interstate that took an hour and a half to slog through, a few photos of rural Virginia, and a very happy 14-year-old. So I guess it was worth it...

August:

• Is getting ready to leave NY with Ben, who after 451 straight performances in Billy Elliot is doing something he's never done in his professional life — taking a vacation.

• Had a great time with Jill and the kids. Of course, we had dinner and a show. Ben sang, Emma danced, Kate laughed (at herself, not her siblings), and Nick created food art in the middle of his plate. A typical family evening!

• Has put Ben on a NY bound train. Nicholas is heading back to NC with the McFarlands this afternoon, while Jill and the girls are returning from Wintergreen. As for me, I'm going home to take a nap, and it not even 7:30 yet...

• Had an amazing evening at Steve Earle's show (thanks again, Jill and kids), which reminded me of the power of music and how it can rejuvenate the mind, body and spirit. As part of it, saw/heard a new favorite band called The Mastersons. Check them out on FB; some of the best new music I've heard in some time.

Last Week:

• Blew two tires just before 1 p.m. and thought that would be my news of the day. Just before 2, at a gas station next to a very pregnant woman, the earthquake hit. 45 seconds later, we stood there wondering what happened. She said, "I thought my water just broke." I told her, "I'm sure a lot of people felt the same."

• Presents the week in headlines: Ben as Michael; 4 tires and an earthquake; Kate in field hockey scrimmages; Nicholas off to college; finding a way home to VA in a hurricane watch with Emma. Next week's prediction: Frogs falling from the sky.

• Amid unprecedented plans to shut down NYC, Emma is on a roll. We're scheduled to be on — literally — the last train out of the city, and she wants to stop at American Eagle one last time. My response: I've been shopping with you more this summer than at any time in your life, so why now? Fluttering her eyes (I swear), she said: You've raised my expectations.

• Is back in Virginia with Emma, exhausted and thankful that the train ride was smooth. Full, but smooth...

Given our lives for the past two years, it was an unusual summer. Nothing earth shattering, just a lot of back and forth, and — fortunately — some quality time spent with all of the kids. I guess you could say there hasn’t been much to blog at home about, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing.

But now that it’s September, and things are picking up steam, I’m sure I’ll be back in this space soon.