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.

Friendship - should it virtually matter?

I just read about someone complaining that they were tired of reaching out to friends, doing all the work and getting nothing back. Another bemoaned that they couldn’t believe people couldn’t take the time to “like” a picture or post or wish someone a happy birthday. Others stated that they weren’t interested in being friends with people who didn’t comment or interact with them as it was viewed as spying – be it family or friends. 

I almost nodded my head in agreement and was than horrified. At myself.  Have we really come to that?

I consider myself a good friend. I value the friends I have and am grateful that they are a part of my life. Does it bother me when I don’t hear from them? When they don’t just ring up to say hello or text a quick “how ya doing?”  To be honest, sometimes…but then I got to thinking. Why on earth would that bother me?  Should they be bothered if I don’t check in with them as often as they would like? If I don’t ask “how ya doing” often enough? I sure as shit hope not.

What I love about my friends is their humor, their wit, their ability to say just the right thing, pour the perfect drink or just go along for the ride. I am grateful for their shoulder when I cry and their strong backs when I need a lift. Their potty mouths, their ability to talk me off the ledge, or laugh with me. I love when I can help them – and return the favors so often bestowed on me. I value their willingness to accept me in all my imperfection – including my sometimes lax communication.

With all the Facebooking, texting, Instagramming, and Tweeting, we have this mistaken belief that every single thought we have, opinion we voice, picture we post, or “meaningful” quote we share must be acknowledged for us to feel valued. Trust me – that dinner you made last night – well, I hope it was great but I can assure you it did not change my life. If I didn’t “like” the picture, it doesn’t mean I’m not impressed by your culinary skills but that I simply didn’t click a button.  Don’t take it personally.  Some folks have hundreds – even thousands - of social networking friends. Do we really need to wish each one a “happy birthday” on their big day and comment on each post?  I don’t know about you, but I have a job, a family and a real life that isn’t online.

I’m a Facebook regular. I post, I share, I upload. I appreciate the interaction with those who respond – I’ve learned a lot about my friends both old and new. It’s a quick and easy way to communicate.  But, if I look at my friend list of 250, I can count a handful of really good friends, some long distance friends and many acquaintances or folks from my previous lives.  Facebook allows us to peek at each other’s lives and feel a modicum of connection.  Yes, even to be a bit nosy – but admit it, there are friends on your list that you never communicate with – you just look at the pics and maybe snicker about something you don’t agree with.  Yet there are others -  good friends who rarely, if ever, log on and I have to connect with them offline and in the real world.  Sure, a comment on a post or anecdote is nice; but when we get our knickers in a twist because someone didn’t like or comment – well, seriously? Do we have such an inflated sense of self?  I have a couple of sisters – both lurk around on Facebook with nary a comment or like.  I can see one sister like other pictures or comments – but never mine.  Never. It never even entered my mind to hold it against her, unfriend her or use that to gauge her love for me. Why? ‘Cause she’s my fucking sister. I can call her up and tell her about my life. She’ll call me and tell me about hers.  She knows if there is a picture I really want her to see, I will email it.  Because honestly, and this may be shocking, but monitoring posts, liking or replying to a comment posted to the world is not a priority for everyone.

I recently joined Instagram – not because I’m so popular or because I have even more to share but to monitor Mini Me as she starts to navigate social networking.  I immediately had people “following” me and I laughed so hard I nearly peed my pants. I don’t even know how the fucking thing works – I’m really just trying to practice a modicum of responsible parenting. I’m honestly not that interesting.  I have no intention of Tweeting. Frankly, no one is that interested in what I can say in140 characters or less. Even this blog – I write because I have things I want to say but I don’t need anyone to hear me.  Writing is cathartic for me. I was a journal keeper and now I’m a blogger. Sure, I hope folks read – even enjoy it - but I’m not offended if they don’t. Hell, I’ve got some family members that don’t even read it.  But, it doesn’t mean they love me any less. At least I don’t think so.

Keep it real - not virtual.

But reading that Facebook exchange really made me think. I’m sorry that folks are placing so much value on social networking interaction. I want the people in my life to think better of themselves, to focus on real connections – not just those online. To invite a friend for coffee, to arrange a playdate at the park with a group of mom friends you haven’t see in a while. To call that friend you haven’t heard from and ask how they are – even if you leave a voicemail that isn’t returned. Find value in the real world and not the virtual one. Stop keeping score – it’s a friendship, not a game. You either both win or both lose.

You see, my friends (and sisters, brothers and sisters-in-law) – well, we’re friends despite our busy lives, crazy schedules and time spent apart. We’re close in spite of our inability to chat often enough or even finish an entire conversation. All those things make our time together sweeter.

So my friends, let’s pour a glass of wine and catch up. When we find time. In the meantime, don't hold it against me if I don't "like" or "comment."  Know I love you and you matter. In the real world.

Friends are like fine wine...

Last month, my dear Brenda Starr turned the big 5-0. Last week, another oldie but goodie, Betty, hit the same milestone.  “As I told Betty, I can’t believe I’ve known you for almost 40 years.” I can’t believe these amazing people have been in my life that long with no legal reason to do so.

It’s funny to watch friends age – funny in that way that I’m laughing with them and not at them. At least most of the time.  For Brenda Starr and me, our kids are close in age and we’re going through many of the same things as parents. But for Betty, well, she and her hubby, Strummer, are empty-nesters. I watched them marry, become parents and move through those milestones with awe as I was barely able to care for myself.  I see their girls as young adults – bright, beautiful and walking their own paths and realize that when Mini-me is that age, she may need to push me in a wheelchair down that same road.

Years ago, we would talk about going out, drinking too much and hooking up.  Now, we talk about staying home, the ability to finish one drink (or three) without yelling at a single child or getting too tired and complain about being nagged for sex, not enough time for sex or the complete lack of sex.  Back then “hot” meant sexy, now it’s about having your own personal summer and “Shit, can we turn the AC up in this place?”

Betty and I talked about lucky we are. Not just because we’re healthy, happy and have great family and friends. We’re so fucking lucky we survived – and we were good kids yet we managed to find our own brand of trouble. We wholeheartedly admit we would kill our kids for doing what we did and it’s totally a case of, “do as I say, not as I did.” We still have secrets and we still laugh our asses off about them, swearing we will never tell. Then we complain about hot flashes, aching bones and worry about aging parents.

Brenda Starr and I joke about the fact our parents let us go to Georgetown every Saturday night until 3 a.m. – with nary a worry or thought. What the fuck is open in Georgetown on Saturday nights? Bars are open, people, bars. Bars with boys and OCS candidates from across the river. Her parent’s naivete, my total lack of supervision and guaranteed access to a car made for great opportunities for teenage mischief and we took total advantage. The mornings after we would be exhausted and hungover and talk about the boys we met (For the record, she met great guys who were shipping off in the service and would send her lovely letters and trinkets while I met guys looking for a final – uh – fling before shipping out). Today, we talk about our constant state of exhaustion not from partying too hard or too late but from work, parental worries or insomnia.  How far we’ve come.

Recently, Runner and I were talking. She mentioned some minor ailments, I commiserated. We trade recipes, kid updates, belly issues and moan about the high grocery prices for Passover or Jewish holiday food. Seriously, I remember when our conversations were about cheap vodka, trying to get into Hammerjacks and if we had enough to order from Sorrento’s and get free delivery.

It’s no secret that Neiman and I talk about everything under the sun. I’ve talked about how we bonded over a road trip – well, she was wildly hungover on that trip. I may have been – sadly, I can’t remember. We were often hungover and making a Taco Bell run while we dissected the previous night – war stories from assorted bars and parties.  Sometimes, you sought out that “hair of the dog” remedy. Those days when we stopped in to visit Sporty when she was tending bar – just to say hello before we went ice skating and ended up staying all day – where Bloody Mary’s turned to beer and then who knows what? Yeah, now we like a glass of wine with carry out Chinese, a good movie from On Demand and to be in bed by nine. What’s worse? We consider that a fucking awesome evening.

Even Geek, who I met as a parent – our talks have gone from babies, toddlers, park playdates and preschool, to breast cysts, insomnia and random body hairs.

My old friend Biff recently posted one of those silly cards on Facebook   It said, “OMG, people now in college were born in 1995.”  I liked it; I laughed. Then I realized it has been 31 years since Biff and I met as freshman. Clearly, the joke is on us.

My old friends and I have shared so much – the good, the bad and the ugly. We’ve gone from

kids – literally and figuratively to adults who may simply act like children. Aging is just one more thing that holds us together, one more thing for us to share, support, complain and laugh about.  I’m so glad I’m not alone in this aging business. I know I’ll be there for my friends – I’ll keep them company at the colonoscopy appointment, sympathize over the annual boob squeezing, commiserate over the new aches and pains and shake my head at what those young kids are doing today.  I will relish in the perks of adulthood - knowing that I always have wine (okay, vodka and tequila, too) in my house, there is decent food in the fridge, the phone within reach and Advil in the cabinet.  I count on their company, their laughter and most importantly, for one of them to wield the tweezers for stray hairs.

We may be getting older but sometimes – we may refuse to grow up.

Life through a lens

So, Neiman had cancer. Had is the operative word.  Treatment ended in December (pretty fucking awesome Christmas present) and so far, all follow-up has been clean.  Elated is an understatement.  As I’ve mentioned, cancer changed Neiman in ways I didn’t expect: she got a potty mouth and the edge is gone. She’s softer in a way that is hard to describe but seems more content in her own skin. 

The journey through cancer treatment is a long and painful one. The ups and downs, the fear and victory, the exhaustion, side effects and uncertainty.  Neiman knew she wouldn’t go through it alone and indeed she didn’t – but I’m not sure she expected to make friends in chemo – the Chemo Amigos.  Their bond was immediate and everlasting.  I was lucky enough to meet these amazing ladies when I was on duty during chemo treatment #2 – they are amazing. There is a certain oddity of finding such joy and humor in a chemo room but these ladies lit up the room. Their optimism and ability to embrace the process with humor, grace and dignity is inspiring.

I’m not their only admirer….the local news has covered them and a magazine is doing a story on them.  This was written by the photographer for that magazine.  He totally got it.

http://www.josephroybal.com/blog/2013/8/life-and-so-much-of-it

So to the photographer who saw life and so much of it through his lens….kudos to you. I knew it was there all along.