The sun, the surf and the memories

20 years.7300 days. 175,200 hours. 10,512,000 minutes.

A lifetime and just yesterday.

Life does not stop when someone dies. It changes. There is a new normal as day to day activities, routine and milestones are re-defined around the absence.

I think of her often – especially in these summer months. The beach, every time I see someone with that golden brown tan (however unhealthy) or see pictures of the sand and surf. During the next few weeks there will be countless pictures posted of friends and family at “the beach” – the great getaway down Route 50, over the bridge, take Route 404. Stop at Adam's Fruit Stand. Bethany Beach, Ocean City, and Rehoboth – the sleepy towns of my childhood have changed but still bring back the same old memories. And, the beach always reminds me of Rona.

It’s funny how a place can remind you of people – as much as any other shared memory with that person. Rona isn’t the only one I think of when I think of the beach – but I always think of her when my toes hit the sand.

Me, Bethany Beach House, 1970

My beach thoughts always start with Big Susan. It was her beach house that brings me my earliest beach memories. The old bikes stored under the house. I was too little to keep up with everyone and would ride on the handlebars. Destination? York Beach Mall where the grocery had donuts every morning. Off we went – to bring them back to the house. Everyone grabbed their favorite and my mom would eat only half. Half a donut. Who the fuck eats just a half?

Swimming in the ocean. Doesn’t matter if it’s just my toes getting wet or if I’m out diving under the waves. Always reminds me of Big Susan’s kids – I would go out soooo far into the ocean. One of the big kids pushing me on those old thick rubber/canvas rafts when I was too small to manage on my own. I’m sure I went ass over tea kettle more than once – but I do not remember ever being afraid.

Once summer, we stayed at a hotel – Summer Place. It was near the beach house so we spent our days there. It was me, my mom and my sisters. My biggest memory of that summer was that our bathing suits got stolen off the clothes line outside. It was my blue and white bikini.

Mini-Me, Bethany Beach, 2014

As I got older, the beach brings me memories of other friends. In high school, D and I went to her family’s beach house. Alone. No parents. Did I say alone and with no parents? There we were, relishing that bit of freedom to set our own hours and act like grownups. We laugh about that parenting choice and how we would never. I was lucky to go to that beach house often – and I have wonderful memories of her dear dad in that house. I can hear his laugh as he told jokes. I hear his voice telling great stories as we sat around the table eating hard-shell crabs and drinking beer. I am grateful that I was able to take my mini-me to that house – and share with her the magic of Bethany Beach.

Not all of my beach memories were of my time there. There is an old story of my mom and Big Susan driving to the beach house to set it up for the summer. There they went in the old station wagon. Two broads – two best friends, with no kids, and a car loaded to the brim with toilet paper, cleaning supplies (my mom was quite the cleaner), cereal, cans of tuna and other assorted necessities for the summer at the beach. The only thing between them and the sand that year was the Chesapeake Bay Bridge and a major summer storm. They would tell the story of driving across the bridge in rain coming down so hard you could barely see, winds pushing against the car so hard they swore it blow them off the bridge. They made it across the bridge, pulled over, hugged each other and cried. I told that story to mini-me as we drove across the bridge – she said she completely understood their feelings as she peered out the window to the water far below.

Beach memories and the people in them changed as I got older and changed coasts. When I moved to CA, I was just a short drive to Santa Cruz. Many a Sunday morning found my brother and me flying over Hwy 17 to spend a day in the sand. There was nothing earth-shattering that happened, no major event. Just a memory of a place that always makes me think of those Sunday mornings with my brother.

Mini-me & cousins, Manhattan Beach, 2013

Now, when I think of the beach – I often picture the wide stretch of sand, the picture-perfect pier and the long walk to the bathroom at Manhattan Beach. I think of my brother and his family. This is the beach of my mini-me’s memory – where cousin T took her out on a surfboard and taught her to love the waves. Where she played for hours with her cousins – digging for sand crabs, playing in the surf. Those super early mornings when only parents of young children were awake and we’d hustle the kids into town to get breakfast before we woke anyone else. She thinks of her aunt and uncle, her cousins, the family friends. We’d walk to those special places at the beach that we visited each time we were there – The Creamery, Pages and Udderly Perfect. Even in the winter. Mini-me has very vivid memories of Christmas Eve walking along the pier with me, her aunt, uncle and cousin and ending up in Shellback Tavern where the nice bartender made her a hot chocolate she could stir with a candy cane. Grownups opted for something a bit stronger. (I’m both proud and horrified that one of her favorite beach memories is of being in a bar on Christmas Eve.) Those evenings at the house where we’d have drinks by the fireplace – our skin a bit redder, our eyes a bit bleary and our souls the kind of blissfully tired that only the beach can bring.

We shared that beach house with friends. For a few years, K and I would pull the girls out of school and escape to the beach for the perfect September weather. Those girls would play for hours on the beach. K would obsessively apply – and re-apply sunscreen. We’d occasionally feed the seagulls that would hover over any potential snack. One year, there was a gull who had a string wrapped around his legs. There were K and I, trying to wrangle this bird to cut this string off – I made her do the cutting. She was a nurse was my excuse. We’d walk the piers in the evening as the girls ran down and peered over the edge. These are Mini-me's beach memories.

My mom loved the beach. Big Susan loved the beach. They loved being there together. Some kid was always getting yelled at. There was sand everywhere. No one watched much TV (only had about three channels so no one really bothered.) The ginormous dining room table that my mother was always – and I mean always – wiping down. Reading comics I found lying around and Stephen King books as I got older. An occasional evening out to Jolly Roger or the boardwalk but that was rare. The beach was the destination.

Rona loved the beach – everything about it. Our last trip was to Bethany. We stayed at friend’s house right in town on beach block. We’d get up early and walk along the water. Sitting on the beach or in the screened-in porch reading. People watching, possibly running into (or avoiding) people we knew. Hard shells at least once during our trip along with Thrasher’s fries with vinegar. It was one of her happiest places. Even when she wasn’t feeling great, she felt removed from her illness at the beach. More peaceful. It is the place I most often picture her. Remember her.

I am not at the beach today though I am wishing my toes were in the sand. And, I wish I was with those who loved the beach the most.

Miss you.

Rona Diane Majower

November 1, 1964 – June 27, 1999

Missing you

Today is the last evening I have to myself. I pick up Mini-me from camp tomorrow morning (can’t wait!)  It’s been a few crazy weeks at work and tonight will likely be spent having a few cocktails with a good friend. As delightful as that will be, what I’d really like to do is talk to Rona.  You see today marks 15 years that she has been gone.

And, as much as I would really like to sit at a bar and have a cocktail and talk to Rona, I’m reasonably sure that talking and laughing out loud with myself – laughing so hard I may snort – would all be frowned upon.  And just saying the words in my head doesn’t seem the same.  So, I will write her a letter. 

Dear Ro,

How the hell are you? I miss you like crazy.  Life has been good, bad and all the stuff in between. There is much to tell you and much I want to know.  I have so many questions and while I know you don’t have all the answers, you make me think differently about things and often, offer some twisted humor to put it all in perspective.

Mini-me is growing quickly – she would certainly be your shopping buddy. Girlfriend loves a good bargain.  While I never forget I’m her parent, she can be quite the pal; you would love that and she would love her tante Rona.  She loves Hebrew and Sunday school – the ritual and tradition, learning the songs and taking pride in writing Hebrew words.  I never had that background but know it was so important to you.  Each week it reinforces that giving her your Hebrew name honors you in the best possible way. You will be there with her as she experiences each new rite of passage – you will be honored. You will be remembered.

My family is fine – growing, changing, and moving but all are healthy and reasonably happy.  I’m learning to be simply grateful that I have such a great relationship with my siblings and their families. To take things as they are and put much less stock in what they think.  After all, they have no choice but to be related to me and for the most part, love me as I am.  I miss my folks terribly. I imagine you miss your mom, too – and that your dad is near you, lecturing everyone on exactly how fast they should drive on any given road.  I miss our talks about our parents – what drove us crazy and our fear of turning into them.  Guess what? That shit happens.

My friends are good, great and everything else. Neiman just had another clean scan – remaining cancer free two years to the day after her diagnosis. And no, it doesn’t escape me that the date of her diagnosis is the date of your death.  This date always feels a bit “off” to me.  This time of year is crazy for me at work – it helps to keep my mind busy but weird thoughts creep in and I never feel quite like myself. 

I’ve been lucky to have a summer of great time with friends both behind and in front of me.  Geek and Kooky were here a few weeks back – good times spent poolside and the cool of the house.  I spent a weekend in the mountains with Belle, Handy and our sweet kids - so nice to get away and have a chance to really just visit without worrying from moving from point a to point b.   I am taking Mini-Me and my dear friends Geek and Kooky to Bethany next month – and can only hope they embrace the sand, surf, Nic-o-bolis and Thrashers fries as much as you and I did.  I will visit old friends, see old hangouts and drive roads once so familiar.  This trip will be full of memories as I introduce Mini-Me to my old world, one in which you were such a central character.  I will miss you but have a feeling you’ll be along for the ride.

Neiman visited me last weekend – a grown-up few days of shopping, eating, drinking and just visiting. Bless her for being such a good sport and visiting me in the summer, when my town feels like the surface of the sun.  And Runner will visit again this summer with the youngest in her flock.  You know, Ro – Runner has not aged one bit. It’s most infuriating.  You were one of the few that was never surprised by my long-lasting friendship with her.  She’s become the religious compass that you once were and I’m constantly reminded of you when I go to her with all my Jewish questions – be it political, religious or a new recipe to get me through one more Passover. 

Who are you hanging out with up there?  Are you sharing scotch and off-color jokes with my dad?  Is my mom complimenting your always perfect hair?  Are you having coffee with her and Big Susan? Is Jack cooking for you, offering to cook for you or making pickles?  Do you see some of our old classmates and reminisce about the old days?

I miss you Rona. I miss our talks. I miss gossiping over California Chicken Salads (and can you believe White Flint is gone?)  It never mattered whether we connected on the phone, with a card or letter (days long before the immediacy of email or texting) or were face-to-face in one of our regular haunts.  We could be chatting, laughing or sitting in comfortable silence.  It all worked. No words were ever necessary. 

Except for now.  Rarely a day goes by when something does not make me think of you. I miss you. More than you will ever know.

Love,

Me

Latkes, turkey, roast beef and a side of gratitude

Thanksgiving weekend dwindles to a close.  My house is quiet and feels empty now that my family has left.  I’m on my fifth load of laundry, beds are remade and the fridge is my emptier (though my wine rack much more full – thank you Mini-mom and her husband, Gardener!!)  We’re ready for the week ahead but I would be remiss if I didn’t express some long overdue thanks for the recent days.

I know it’s that time of year when we should profess our thankfulness and our gratitude while plotting which stores to hit and how to beat everyone else to the sale to get that one thing we don’t really need but have to have so that we can be thankful for it the next year. Now, I’m no Pollyanna – I like nice things as much as the next person but I’ve really been working on dialing it back and trying to really appreciate and use what I have.

So, in that spirit I have much to be thankful for this year – and I try to keep the gratitude greater than the grief.

I’m beyond thankful that Neiman has beat cancer.  It has been a gift to be able to support her through this journey and I’m glad I was able to be by her side.  I will always be grateful that Robert, her mighty oak, was by her side as well.

I am saddened by the loss of such a mighty oak.  And while I will always appreciate the way the stars aligned that allowed me to be there, supporting Neiman, when we said goodbye to such an amazing man – the fact we had to say goodbye was a dark spot in this year.

I’m feeling cautiously optimistic that the bullying Mini-Me has experienced is tapering off – or at least maybe going dormant.  The start of the school year was terribly difficult but Mini-Me has come through stronger and braver than I could ever have hoped.  I learned how to better support her – so she could support herself.  I’m grateful for those that helped us along the way.

I continue to be deeply bothered that the bullying exists. That our schools don’t do enough, that they leave these children “to work it out among themselves” and that parents don’t know or acknowledge the role their own child may have played (and all the kids involved played a role – even mine.)

My year was made brighter by two visits with my dear friend, Runner!  She and her sweet daughter visited in July and just a few weeks back, she and her husband were here on business. We were able to really visit, catch up and share more laughs than drinks, which is just how it should be. 

As always, I relished the two visits we had with Geek and her sweet girl, Kooky.  Despite the fact that we talk every single night (and have for almost 7 years), the in-person visits allow us to connect differently. Mini-me and Kooky play, get annoyed, laugh, shriek and don’t want to leave each other’s side.  We are all content to just hang out in close proximity.  Mini-me and I are already excited about seeing them later this month.

Belle and I took our annual September trip to the beach. Once again, Patron and Beach were out of town and graciously let us take over their oh-so-comfortable home.  For a few days, we beached, relaxed, shopped and just hang out.  We visited with Mini-Mom and her family, took the girls to a few new places and even enjoyed the mind-numbing ride on the 10.  I’m grateful for that time with friends and that my family welcomes my friends so readily into their homes.

Last Wednesday, I watched Mini-me, my nephew and niece light the Menorah.  I heard them say the prayer and I got tears in my eyes.  I could easily blame it on the onions that were grated for the latkes…but I won’t take the easy way out.  As we raised our glasses – my table full of Mini-Mom, Gardener and the swimmers, my dear neighbors and friends – the gratitude was overwhelming. So blessed to have such good friends in my life but on a more significant note, thrilled to have kindled the lights with my sister, with whom I have not done so in more than 20 years.

So, at the end of this Thanksgiving weekend, I am most grateful that I was joined by my sister and her family.  Like many great things, our relationship has not always been easy – we’re sisters after all. We’re as alike as we are different.  But, oh how we laughed.  I loved how the swimmers made themselves at home.  I loved hearing the kids laugh.  I loved drawing with my nephew, watching Mini-Me look up to my niece (literally and figuratively) and just hanging out. I loved that Gardener took the time to share ideas about updating my kitchen and even showed my some things in Home Depot that could work. I even loved our 4.6 mile Thanksgiving morning hike – despite the fact I had the worst cough and laryngitis and could barely breathe. It wasn’t pretty but it was great.

I did miss our other siblings. We usually spend Thanksgiving at Patron and Beach’s house but if I was going to do something different – I did it right this year.  Both Neiman and the original Big Susan celebrate their birthdays around Thanksgiving.  I miss the former and know she’s only a phone call away…but the latter, well; I take comfort in knowing she and my mom were together. In matching robes and drinking black coffee. I miss my mom – I made her stuffing (though a slightly new version) but I know it would have tasted better if she had made it without the change.  I miss the early morning call from my father. I miss my stepfather telling me to add extra garlic to the turkey rub.  I remind myself that I’m lucky to miss such wonderful people.

Tonight, as Mini-me and I walked the dogs, she declared she had been really lucky this weekend. She said she had delicious Hanukkah and Thanksgiving dinners, she discovered she liked brussel sprouts (‘cause bacon makes everything better), got great presents, had fun with her cousins and aunt and uncle, learned to draw some new things, and went to some really cool places.  Very lucky my sweet Mini-me. We’re very lucky indeed.