For you Christine and your beautiful sorority sisters!  What an amazing time you had in Florence.  

Mornings -- time for reflection....

Mornings --- I love them.  The time right after Lauryn leaves for school and all the morning rush is over.  I open the doors, listen to the ocean, and just breath.  Is this meditation?  Maybe my form of it….  Those few minutes before the phone starts ringing, and the chaos starts….just peace.  The time to think – really think.

Mornings at the beach are my favorite time – they change with the seasons.  Mornings in the summer are full of sounds of laughter and squeals of delight from kids.  I like summer here – but surprisingly it’s my least favorite season.  My backyard is full of strangers – many who think it’s ok to sit in my Adirondacks on our private part of the beach and drink beer.   By the way ---unless you want me to come sit on your chairs in your backyard without an invitation too -- it’s not ok!  

Fall mornings are by far my favorite.  The ocean is invariably calm – the waves just rolling in…. The only people on the beach are the few surf fishermen who come for their annual fall fishing trips with their buddies.  If you stare out long enough you’ll almost always see a couple schools of dolphin frolicking in the waves.  They like to body surf this time of year – actually body surf.  They love it just like we do – but unlike us, they are graceful – they don’t go crashing onto the shore with their top around their neck and their bottoms around their feet!  Then there are the pelicans ---I love pelicans….  It’s something about the little tuft of hair on the top of their head and those beady little eyes that get me.  The way they just skim the water in perfect sequence, following the line of the waves perfectly. I wonder who determines who gets to lead and who the poor little fella in the back is?  He’s always just a little farther away than everyone else. – flapping away madly to keep up.    Add to the scene a spattering of shrimp boats – nets down.  Is there anything more southern than a shrimp boat?  My friends know that my dream someday is to go on a shrimp boat.  My bucket list is incredibly simple – that and meet Burt Bacharach –  done!!  I saw my first shrimp boat on one of my first get -aways with Tom.  I was in awe, and I fell in love with them.  He had seen them his whole life, and he was in awe that I was so excited by them -- and he fell in love with me.  All of these make my fall mornings perfect….add the rumble of a coast guard or marine helicopter in the background, getting louder as it approaches,  and the scene is the perfect start to a day.

I love this beach.  I really do.  Sometimes I get so buggy living here though  - having to drive a half an hour just to go to the dry cleaners or the vet--making  an entire day of going to the mall.  Driving three hours to Raleigh for a doctors appointment,  then turning around and driving another three home is exhausting.  And strangely I miss Fresh Market.  I miss the feel of it, the classical music, the flowers - the choices.  I miss that almost more than anything else.  I miss what everyone else has in larger towns.  The ease of finding someone to fix your air conditioner or plumbing  – the things you take for granted when they are at your fingertips.  Your choices are limited in small towns,  so sometimes I wish this beach were in Wilmington – where there are restaurants, stores, culture --- more choices .  But the beaches in Wilmington aren’t like our beach; they are more crowded, and they don’t run east/west, so you get the sunrise and sunset in the fall, and they don’t face south, so you are warm all winter….and they do have civilization – -- and that kind of defeats the whole feel.  And I love our  house.  We built this house from a dream…my husband’s  lifelong dream to have a house on the ocean.  How can I leave that?   This is the only true home my children have known. We moved so often for my husband’s work when the kids were little that Emerald Isle was their only constant.  We bought our first beach house here 16 years ago, and we’ve lived here for 8 years…..with 14 months spent living in Raleigh.  Fourteen months that were painful for my daughter.  

 When we moved to the beach fulltime back in 2003 I promised the kids we’d never move them again. By the way ---  my recommendation -- never make a promise like this to your kids!!!   My vote was originally to move to Tampa, but we would have to sell the beach house, and I knew that would break Tom's heart - so off to North Carolina we went.   We had to time our move right for the kids' school ages, so my husband stayed up north to spend his last year with his company before he retired.  He would never fully retire, I knew that.  We figured he’d sit on a few boards and do a little consulting.  But I didn’t know he would be wooed to take over a company in Raleigh and work there for the next 6 years, coming home only on weekends.  Between the year he spent in PA commuting to NC and another year commuting to the UK after the kids and I moved back to the states, this living apart stuff was getting "old".  That was almost 8 years of a "weekend marriage".  I missed my husband - missed having a “normal” family – whatever that is - and I grew tired of always going alone to back to school nights or sports and other functions for the kids.  So after Christine graduated from high school in 2009,   Lauryn  agreed, as she put it,  to “take one for the  team” and move to Raleigh with me so we could live full time together.   I took her out of her school – away from her friends and the only true home she had ever known.  She made friends and fit in well enough in Raleigh, but she missed her real friends and her home.  So, of course she was unhappy, and although I was personally very content in Raleigh, the saying,   “You are only as happy as your most unhappy child” is very true – and I realized I made a selfish mistake.   You know, it’s funny – because I took my child out of her environment so I wouldn’t have to parent alone –be married alone, but Tom still traveled and was busy at work, so I still attended back to school nights and most other events alone – so really what was accomplished?  Eventually Tom made the decision very easy for us by taking over a business in Philadelphia and moving there during the week.    There was no reason any longer to stay in Raleigh – so back to the beach we went – and my daughter started smiling again….and when I started breathing normally again, I realized that I had been holding my breath. 

This is Lauryn’s home – but I’m not sure it’s mine.  When she graduates, and I’m left alone – just the pets and me – will I want to stay here?   Tom will continue to work in Philadelphia.  I’m sure he will always work, and I hope for his sake he always does.  He loves his work; it defines him.  It’s not a negative like so many people like to make it out to be.   Some people just love what they do and want to keep challenging themselves.  He is great at it, and I think it is wonderful for him,  and  I support him fully in this.   But his businesses will never be at the beach, and although Tom will still come home on weekends, I’m just not sure this is where I want to stay forever.  The view is perfect, but do I need more than that?  Most likely.   I grew up in Indiana, went to school in Florida, and have lived in several places in  different countries over the years, so my dearest friends are spread all over the place.  I try to decide where I would go – where I would feel a sense of “home” – is it here, or is it somewhere else?  I worry about my mom. - - she’d kill me for saying that because she still feels like she’s 40 – but I do..  That pull or guilt is powerful…   

So as  I get older,  and realize the nest will be empty soon, and I will be living here alone the majority of the time, I have decided it is time to worry about me – my future – where do I really want to be?   Call it a midlife crisis. Haha   So mornings at beach are my therapy sessions – my time for thinking.  What do I do – stay or make plans to go.  Tom is up for anything…he will let me choose this time.   He knows I’ve made many personal sacrifices for him to achieve his dreams, and thankfully it means a lot to him.   Right now – as I look out at the ocean, and listen to the one sound that absolutely massages my heart, I think I will probably grow old right here in this house….  But tomorrow, when I have to drive a half hour to a store that doesn’t have the ingredients for the recipe I want to make – I might lean toward more civilization.  One thing I know for sure…wherever I choose won’t have it all -- there's  always a give and take - but that’s life – on or off a beach.

Hear it -- Feel it....

As I sit here listening to the sound of the waves rolling in and out from my kitchen, I think about how these sounds affect me.  We are all impacted emotionally by sound – they can make us happy, sad, angry, excited, nostalgic, and more.  I am very influenced by the feelings that sounds bring forth,  and  I wonder about people who are deaf.  What do they hear in their heads?  Do they imagine sounds when they see things – and what do they sound like if they do?  I’m sure people describe sounds to them or read descriptions, but I just wonder what they actually sound like to them.  My great Uncle and Aunt were deaf.  They lived very normal lives, just like all of us.  I'm sure they "heard" sounds -- just differently than we do - maybe more clearly.  I wish I’d asked them these questions.   I’d love to know.

I can pinpoint my favorite sounds and least favorite sounds…as I’m sure we all can if we think about it.   I’ll cover my least favorite and get it out of the way….  I cannot stand the sound of TV as background sound when no one is watching.  I don’t mind it if someone is watching, but if it’s just on and left, it brings on a very stressful feeling.  My husband loves to have the TVs on – in every single room, whether he is there or not.   He says he doesn't hear what it's saying, but he enjoys the sound. I am convinced that when my husband hears my voice he has the same feeling he gets with the TV playing in the background.  He knows I'm talking,  usually likes that I'm there,  but doesn't hear a word I'm saying!  HA

I have two favorite sounds.  The first is that of a dove cooing.  It evokes many emotions – nostalgic, calm, hopeful feelings.  Everywhere I’ve ever lived, doves have been outside my window cooing away, and that one constant has given me comfort.  At first when I hear it, I am immediately taken back to my childhood, visiting my grandparents in Marion, IN.  I loved their old house, and I would lie on the bed in the back bedroom with the windows open, and just listen to the doves.  Doves come visit at my very favorite parts of the day – in the early morning and at dusk -- my calmest parts of my day – before I’m revved up, and when I’m ready to kick back.   Their calls can impact my emotions.  They say.  “peace”, and invariably after I hear a dove cooing, that is what I feel.

The sound of my husband talking to my daughters downstairs when I’m upstairs is right up there with doves in terms of making me feel calm and happy.  There is nothing to me like that sound.   Tom  has this slow deep southern drawl.  When he would read books to the kids when they were little, I would  curl up and listen too.  His voice was like a caress at those times, and it had a magical way of making the kids relax.  He takes on that voice when he talks to the kids even now - interested, understanding, caring.  They respond in a quiet introspective manner - really examining and  sharing their thoughts.  The sound of  my normal conversations with the girls would be very different if someone listened - faster pace, more energetic, lighter -  talking about everyday things in their lives, with playful banter.   Since Tom is only home a few days a week, his interaction is special – slow - deep - important – heartfelt.   I treasure that sound, and I will often delay joining the conversation so I can prolong the feeling.

I love the obvious sounds of the waves crashing, horns blowing in the city, the echoes across a lake of people having fun, children laughing,  the announcers, bands and cheers at a sporting event.  They calm, energize and just give me a general sense of happiness.

Of course music is a sound we all love – all of our old favorite songs that immediately whisk us back in time to that very moment – that very specific emotional memory.   It’s usually 70”s-80’s music when I clean or do menial tasks around the house.  I can be dragging my feet, procrastinating  -- then I turn on music, and I start to work. I love most genres of  music,  but when I have to be productive, I gravitate toward classic rock: Journey, Foreigner, Supertramp, Styx, Eagles, to name a few.  Cooking is reserved for the crooners and jazz: Diana Krall, Rod Stewart doing the classics, Michael Buble’, Boney James, Miles Davis,  Coldplay.  And of course anything by my man Burt Bacharach is included on every single playlist except  my workout playlist.  That is  straight up fast and intense, with  my favorite work out song being Motley Crue's "Goin out Swingin".   The sound of music creates a mood which then translates into action - think Marvin Gaye or Luther...

We all have specific songs that take us back – make us feel something --  happy, sad, and what I call happy/sad.    There are tons of songs that make me remember specific times in my life, but some stand out more than others.   The primary ones that remind me most of my childhood would be  “A House is Not a Home” and  “One Less Bell to Answer” by Burt Bacharach.  I remember waking up on Saturday mornings in our new apt, in Indianapolis after my parents were divorced (I was 5), and hearing my mom vacuuming and singing along to these.  These songs make me a little sad, but they also bring on a feeling of comfort - of home.  My mom loved Burt Bacharach first, and that is when I too fell in love with him and have stayed true for 43 years.   California Dreamin by the Mamas and the Papas always makes me laugh because  I used to think it said  “All the Lisa Brown” instead of “Leaves are brown”.  Of course that didn’t make any sense, but I was convinced for several years that my name was in this song!  Ha-ha   Then there is the Beatles' “Here Comes the Sun”.  My dad would sing that to me  when I visited.  That one makes me happy/sad.   I call “Have I told you lately that I love you” by Rod Stewart my “divorce song” – since I realized that my now ex-husband hadn’t – and it clicked.  Of course anything by Barney or Joe Scruggs reminds me of when the kids were little and propels me back to the happiest memories of my life.   My husband sang "Lady in Red" as I walked past him at a meeting years before we were dating (I should have known I was in trouble....), and I  can’t hear anything by Barry White without immediately associating it with Tom - his signature song being "You're the First, the Last, My Everything".

Then finally there are the sounds of Freedom…  Living here so close to Camp Lejeune we have fighter jets, carrier planes, helicopters, etc. flying over at all times,  along with  practice bombs being set off on the barrier islands.  These sounds used to bother me – make me nervous.  Now I hear them and I feel a blanket of security cover me.  I love knowing that our wonderful service men and women are out there protecting us.   This is one of those deep sounds – the ones that make you think –-  think of the state of our world, the sacrifices these amazing service men and women and their families are making for our freedom.  They make you wonder about the future – our children’s future - and to hope.    

So, sounds are an important part of my life – of all our lives, I’m sure.  Taking the time to step back and listen – and feel - is important to me.  I hope we all take this time and think about our  favorite sounds and what they mean to us…   Sounds are personal -- they evoke different feelings in different people.  I bet many are the same, and some may surprise us, but they all leave an impression.

Benevolence or Malevolence - Our Choice....

 I think most of us likes to believe that we are benevolent souls.  Looking to help others – doing what’s right.  I gravitate toward stories of people who did good deeds, really good people who selflessly give of themselves or their money to those in need – for no reason other than it’s the right thing to do.  Not the big things – the everyday little things.  Things that no one else would know they did. They just do them because they are good.  People like that remind us to be good ourselves.

 My daughter Lauryn  played volleyball with a girl from her school in Raleigh.  I was commenting on what a nice girl she was, and Lauryn said  “Mom, she is such a good person – a really good person.”  Then she went on to tell me how she put together little bags of items needed for the homeless people on the corner – things such as socks,  little snacks, etc.  She kept them in the back seat of her car, and when she would see the people at the intersections asking for money or food, she would hand them a bag.   I loved that.  She took the time to put those together; she cared that much.  She did it for no other reason than because it was kind. It wasn’t something she did because she wanted to make her resume for college look better.   She didn’t broadcast it.  The only reason Lauryn knew was because she was riding with her and asked what the bags were. She only did it because she was kind, and her act of kindness made me look at the people begging at the intersections  in a different light, - the ones  whose motives I was skeptical of.  I would hope the light would stay green so I could pass them by without having to worry about them asking for money.  I am not proud of that, but it’s true.  This  one lesson from  this 18 year old girl, changed me .  It opened my eyes not only to the probable predicament of the people on the corner, but also to myself.  I mean really- what is wrong with me?  Why would I, who has so much, relatively speaking, just pass them by?  So I started stopping – and giving -- – I stop every time now,  and I give them what I can– sometimes it’s a dollar – sometimes $5 .  But I stop…because whatever their circumstances, they were there on the corner.  They were there for hours – in the rain, in the cold – never aggressive – just hoping we would stop and help a little.  So even if some of them aren’t  “for real” (like the person with the drugged cat “sleeping” on his shoulder), I will give them the benefit of the doubt, because I don’t want  to be that person who is skeptical of other people’s motives all the time….

  Last weekend my daughter and her friend and I were going to the mall and we passed one of the corner beggars.  I asked Lauryn to go into my purse to grab some money.  She was struggling to find some (for those of you who have seen my purse – you’ll understand).  Finally she came up with a single dollar just as the light turned green and people started to go.  I rolled my window down and the man came limping over as fast as he could.  We were holding up traffic, and people were getting pissy.  I apologized for it just being a dollar – and he smiled – and his eyes lit up.  His eyes –they pierced my heart -  they were so thankful – so appreciative – just for that one dollar.  It hit me hard – and as I drove away I started to cry – who knows why – could certainly have been my erratic hormones – I mean seriously, what is WITH these hormones??  But I really think it was because of his eyes. That man touched my heart because he was so appreciative of that one small act of kindness – of someone not scowling at him or pretending he wasn’t there,  but helping him – actually looking at him when I gave him the dollar. It made me wonder if this was the first time I have ever really looked anyone in the eye when I gave - I wonder. 

I understand that I may sound naïve, but I like myself better when I give someone the benefit of the doubt than I do when I don’t.  Yes, I get burned,  everyone who trusts does sometimes, but  what's the option?  Don't care - don't give?  Some of these people were like us, and just lost it all.  We don’t know the stories of these people, but we often judge.  How come?  My friend Laurie gets this.  She and her husband were in Philadelphia on business, and I had a chance to see them. We were talking about our encounters with the homeless in Philadelphia, and she told me how she and her husband were approached by a homeless person for money.  Laurie didn’t have any cash, so she said they'd walk with the man to get him something to eat at the food court.  He wanted Chinese…so they ordered him the Chinese meal of his choice, but when she went to pay they said they didn’t accept credit cards.  Well, most people would apologize to the homeless person feeling bad about it --- maybe  digging in their purse for any spare change, or telling them they’d look for them the next day.  I would have.  But not Laurie – she told him to wait, and found an ATM machine, got money right there on the spot, and made sure that man had a meal.  To me, that was a true sign of Laurie’s character ; she was determined to help that person.  She made a commitment, and she was going to stick with it, and of course, her husband was right there with her supporting the decision.  Some people may say that you shouldn’t do this because the person could steal from you, and I agree – you have to use judgement.  I won't give if someone is aggressive, and there are some “sketchy” homeless people in Italy who have approached my daughter and her friends, and I completely agree with their decision to keep a distance…  But if you feel you are safe and it’s legit,  then why not spare a little if you can?  

Then there’s the person who returned Lauryn’s wallet recently without a note attached.  They paid the $5 postage and bought a padded envelope to keep the wallet safe, just out of the goodness of their heart.   Because it was the right thing to do. That is what benevolence means to me.  Being good because you know it’s right, because you want to, because you are…  I think there are more people like that in this world.  It just takes a moment for us to take time….strip ourselves of our pessimism – and be open to good intent. 

So I sometimes wonder why so much attention is paid to negativity when there is so much good.  When we are surrounded by good,  it makes us want to be better – not pollyannas, but better.  So why do we gravitate to negativity?.   Why the people who spread gossip or want to revel in other’s misfortune lead the conversations so often?   It’s like the book “The Help” so many of us have read.  There are “Hilly Holbrooks” in every single town – not just in the South -  and they're not just women - leading their various social circles, often with malice.  They gossip, pass judgement and cause drama, and the people around them allow it to happen – and support it -  even if they don’t necessarily agree. These people are powerful because their “friends” become  afraid of them – afraid to become the next victim of their malice if they don't go along.  I wonder why, when people really are inherently good, they take part in this.  Didn't we learn anything from high school?  It really is never a good thing. Why do we feel a sense of “excitement” when we talk about someone else in a negative way.  We’re all guilty of it – I certainly am – but I will say I feel like a jerk after I do it,   and I think others do too.   Just last night we were said something negative about someone, and my friend's son backed the person - shrugging  and saying, "He's nice; I like him."  How cool was that?   It stopped us - right then and there.  Made us reevaluate what we were saying.   That's the thing - when someone points it out - you often realize what you've done.  So – I’m trying.  I’m trying to be better – to remember when I hear or say something negative  about someone  or their circumstances,  that it’s not really nice - it's not funny. That I shouldn’t do it, and I shouldn’t participate, and it is not the person I want to be or have my children see – or imitate.  I don’t want to give the “Hilly Holbrooks” of the world the power to hurt others – to make themselves more powerful by casting judgement on others.  So maybe if I keep thinking this when I hear it – not to participate – to stop myself or remind others to “be nice”, that slowly it will have a ripple effect.   It’s work in progress for sure, but– I’m trying.

 I don’t know why I decided to write about this.  Maybe because if I put it in writing, it will make me stay aware  - make me keep it up or change– and maybe others too.   Make us all take a closer,  more honest look at our own behavior.  Are we true to what we want to be?  Do we accept others, even if they aren't like us?  Do we treat others as we'd like to be treated - how we'd like our kids to be treated?  To remember that people are basically good.  We all slip up sometimes, but basically, we’re pretty darn good - we just need reminders sometimes.  So I like these stories…examples of what I want to be and what I don’t want to be. They make me think.  I want to live that way everyday.  I want this to be something I am.  I don’t want to pass by people in need on the street thinking they are annoyances, and I don’t want to gossip or pass judgement unfairly.  I want to be a better person – so I’m trying, and I’ll keep trying, and if everyone does – then that's  good….right? 

Don't Mess with Mother Nature

“Hurricane threat “- the dreaded two words for people who live on the beach.   For my family, preparing for hurricanes has become as routine as buying school supplies, and like this year, often done on the same day.   

We live on a very narrow island in the Southern Outer Banks of North Carolina.  They call it the Crystal Coast.  If you look at the photo, Emerald Isle is at the western part of that little sliver of land sitting in the ocean.  On the south side of us is ocean, and just on the other side is the Bogue Sound.  It is heaven - it truly is.  I absolutely love our little island, but once they announce that it’s hurricane season, it’s time to hold your breath a little, and know you may be in for a ride…

We've had a place in Emerald Isle for 15 years.  Our first beach house was 5 rows back with a nice little view of the ocean, and safety, we felt, from most storms.  We always said we were happy there, with no desire to be oceanfront.  Walking down to the beach with the kids and all our beach stuff loaded in a wheelbarrow (quite a sight), dragging all the stuff through the public access and trudging up the dune to finally be hit in the face with that wondrous ocean breeze was worth every sweaty, whiney step.  But when we were relocated to England from Toronto, we sold our house when the market was hot, and we found ourselves with some extra cash.  There was this perfect oceanfront lot for sale just down the street from our 5^th row house.  It had a high dune, and no public access around us.  So… we decided to take the risk and build oceanfront!!  How excited we were!  It really was hard to believe.  My husband’s dream was to have a house on the ocean.  So we said – “Let’s do it!!”  People would ask if we were worried about hurricanes.  Clearly we thought of this, who wouldn’t?  But we made the choice to build on the ocean, and the beauty and peace of it was worth the risk.... we said.... we hoped.  So, while living in England, we had our house built here in North Carolina, meeting with the builders on our trips back to the states.  This was, for us, a labor of love.

The girls and I moved to the beach house permanently in 2003, and my husband planned to follow once he retired from Johnson & Johnson in 2004 (He did retire from Johnson & Johnson in 2004, only to take over a couple of other companies and continue commuting to EI to this day).  We had moved a lot with my husband’s job, and Emerald Isle was the only true home base my kids knew.  I wanted life to slow down for them – for all of us.  They had lived in a world of people who were given too much and were all so similar – corporate people, professionals, and there was a sense of entitlement that I didn’t want my children to adopt.  I wanted my kids to be exposed to people from all walks of life, to choose their friends by who they were inside,  not what they had, and to understand that it’s character that makes someone a success – not position…and Carteret County offered the diversity I sought for my family.

So we settled into our new lives on Emerald Isle.  We weren’t there for more than a month when we were faced with our first hurricane.  I remember not knowing a soul and sitting in the chair at the hairdressers listening to the women talking about the impending hurricane.  I kind of ignored it -- until I heard someone say  "Category 3" and "in two days".   I thought,  “What???   I flipped!  Here I was alone with a third grader and a 7th grader in a brand new school, in a brand new town, knowing no one, and faced with a Category 3 hurricane!  What the hell was that???  I had no idea!!  So I called Tom "suggesting" he leave PA and come to NC pronto!!!!   Tom grew up in NC and lived in FL for years.  He knew hurricanes and very calmly told me there was no hurry and to calm down.  I was from Indiana - used to tornados, which hit as soon as you got the warning - and I WAS in a hurry - and not calm!   But, I soon learned you had days to prepare...thankfully.  So - prepare I did.  I think I took every single painting off the walls, every piece of crystal off the shelves, every document we ever received and every single picture and packed them in my SUV.  I wasn't leaving anything behind.  When Tom got to NC he looked at me like I was nuts, but being my very calm cool and collected husband who knows better than to mess with a panicking woman who feels her family is a risk, he let me do my thing.   I was packed at least a day before we left, and then the waiting began….  I was so shocked at the calmness of everything.  Where were the waves?  Where was the wind?  Why was the beach still so beautiful and the birds just hanging out?

Once the hurricane shutters were up and the patio furniture inside, we packed up the kids, our Golden Retriever Fluffy, our two kitties, Sprinkles and Capri, our fish Blue Grotto, and off we went to a hotel in Raleigh - to shelter - to safety.  The storm pretty much missed Emerald Isle and went inland - crossing over Raleigh.  Are you kidding me?  We were stuck in the middle of a monsoon!  Our hotel lost electricity and the backup generator failed.  The fire alarm went off, and as we were feeling our way out the door my oldest daughter Christine knocked the fish bowl over, and Tom stepped on and squashed Blue Grotto. What a fiasco!  So finally, we went back to Emerald Isle, and found our house essentially damage free.   Whew!!

After that experience I pledged to approach the whole hurricane season in a much calmer way.  Each year we have threats, and every year if a hurricane is predicted we put the shutters up and bring in the furniture. We always evacuate when the officials call for it, and I always bring our old photos that I don't have on a computer and pack up the pets.  Otherwise, it's all pretty routine.  I've learned that hurricanes are usually pretty slow moving, and it's better to be safe than sorry.  The fact that you do have days to prepare is a blessing, but sometimes it’s a curse as well.  It gives you time to worry…. to fret…. to imagine the worst – to sit glued to the Weather Channel only to watch the same thing over and over.  But honestly that’s not healthy.  We just have to do the best we can to physically prepare ourselves for the worst-case scenario, while at the same time, envisioning that it will be ok.  That’s tough…it’s out of our hands…and often it’s the things that are out of our hands that are the hardest to accept - but it’s the healthiest way.

So this hurricane will be the same.  We are preparing, and not panicking.  We are enjoying the incredibly beautiful calm before the storm.  These times create some of the most peaceful settings for an amazing walk on the beach.

It's a time when people in the community come together -- at grocery stores, at Lowes, on the beach with other workers putting up shutters.... everyone has a kinship - talking about what we are facing...will we be ok - are you staying?  I'm always amazed at those who live on the island that stay.  I respect their decision even if I don’t necessarily agree with it.  People want to be in control -- of their home, of their things, of their destiny.  My opinion again is that we can’t control nature – it has it’s own mind, so I always play it safe.  We put it in God's hands to determine what will be waiting for us when we return, but we’re not going to risk the bodies of our children or pets.

It is a gamble -- what do you do -- protect your "stuff", or leave it all and pray for the best.  Everyone talks about this during these times...  You hear "it's just stuff".  I agree, but it's stuff with memories attached.  I haven't ever bought anything for my home that didn't represent something special – a memory to my family.  Tom and I have purchased everything together - every painting has a meaning, every antique purchased - a story – an adventure.  I'm not alone -- we all attach our hearts to our possessions.  So, although yes, it is just stuff, my heart will be broken if it is taken during this storm.  This "stuff" is irreplaceable in my heart --but new memories will be attached to new "stuff" that I may have to purchase.  So be it.  It is just stuff....

So as I sit out and look at the star filled skies glittering in a way they haven't all summer – with the stars seeming to literally touch the water, I try to imagine what the next few days will hold.  I watch in wonder as my pets behave in a frenetic way they never have.  My dogs are beyond consoling, and my cat will not leave my side.  They say pets can sense these things; I believe it completely.  This hurricane could be the worst my husband or I have ever faced.  It could destroy our beloved home. – or it could just blow over us with lots of wind and rain.  So we prepare, pray to God to be kind, and wait.  It's the waiting...not knowing what will be waiting for you when you return that is so difficult.  So I pray --- Irene be kind, to us, then to the rest of the eastern seaboard - then I open a great bottle of Cab!

Summers End

“Conflicted” would be the word to best describe my feelings this time of year.  On the one hand, I hate to see summer drawing to an end and the kids going back to the school, and on the other hand, I absolutely can't wait to get back to a normal routine.

Summer at the beach is wonderful.  My house is full of kids at all times with tons of laughter and activity.  With that, however, comes about 20 towels to wash a day, a bucketful of sand to clean off my floors, and pillows to constantly readjust on the couches where the kids have lounged.  On a rare occasion that I actually buy “fun” food  (which my kids claim I never do), it is devoured before I even get it out of the bag – with the empty boxes/bags left for me to throw away. Evenings with high school and college kids in the house are filled with  endless late night “events”.  I’m always amazed and delighted when Tom and I venture out to the porch to sit and talk, and the next thing you know – here come the kids -- wanting to hang with us - the   college boys enjoying cigars with Tom.  I LOVE that!  Those kids make me laugh, and my heart bursts from their excitement over the smallest things.   The clean up the next morning is another story…  They think they’ve cleaned everything up, and to their credit they try, but I am left  finding the leftover cans, cigar remains, picking up wet sand filled towels, and taking sheets off all the beds.   Laundry has become synonymous with summer in my world -- Somehow I feel like I'm not alone!

Along with the kid filled activity in the house comes the tourists’ activities on the beach.  Our nice little beach town transforms from a quiet place to a crazy tourist haven in the summer.  The normal 10-minute jaunt from my house to the mainland becomes a stressful 20-minute drive, stuck behind tourists oblivious to the world around them. If there is a fender bender on the bridge – which often happens because tourists like to enjoy the view while crossing and forget to watch the car in front of them -  the wait could be hours.  But I surprise myself when I say that having the tourists take over our island for a couple of months is kind of nice.  It changes the energy.   I love nothing more than to sit on my front porch and watch people check into the homes around me.  You see them literally running out on the decks to see the view, and you can “feel” their excitement.  It makes me appreciate where I am -- helps me realize that I should remember to see the beauty as well.  It will surprise other islanders to hear me say this, but when tourists come to our island, a certain civility takes over.  The beach road becomes a walking path, and you see people walking their dogs, riding their bikes, and talking to one another.  People are so much more open at the beach.  They relax.  I love to garden early in the morning, and the walkers and bike riders often  stop to chat with me. We will start out talking about my flowers or what it’s like to live on the beach, then end up sharing our stories with each other.  Just random, very short term encounters that make my day. 

Our backyard is the beach, which is public, and although not crowded relatively speaking, is more active than usual.  The dolphins sense this, and their trips in front of our house become infrequent.  The pelicans only fly overhead, and you hear many more seagulls screeching, as tourists love nothing more than to throw bread in the air to attract them – ugh.  The bocce ball and cornhole games are in full gear,  dogs are chasing tennis balls in the water, and the kids are screaming with delight as they boogie board and play in the sand.  The nights are full of activity, and this is something I adore about living on the beach.  People grill using charcoal, and the smell brings back childhood memories of my grandparents' lake cottage.  We have season long fireworks shows up and down the beach with the tourists taking their amateur displays seriously.  Other than the stray shell that lands on our pool deck, we love this, and it’s so fun to join the tourists in cheers of appreciation when a good one is shot.  You will hear squeals from kids and adults alike as they carry their flashlights searching for crabs, and laughter echoes throughout as people enjoy cocktails during the evenings.  People are having fun – and that is an amazing sound!

So now, the summer activity has come to a close…  The kids are heading back to school, and a certain calmness has taken over.  You can physically feel the difference.  The waves calm down, and the birds start to sit on the beach again.  I can wake up in the morning, look out for a few minutes and almost always watch a school of dolphins swim by.  The earth rotates to a position where soon we will get both the sunrise and the sunset in front of our house because we face south, and at night I look straight out on the big dipper from my front steps.  It is magical.  It’s almost like our little island is finally exhaling after the intrusion of tourists - saying,  "That was fun, but I'm happy they're gone."

This is my favorite time – when everything gets back to normal.  I can once again schedule my dogs’ walks on the beach around the tide instead of around tourists.  They can have the full extension of their leashes, and the only thing I have to dodge is a fishing line from one of the surf fishermen.   We all become calmer.  I can go out on my deck and blare my music without worrying about disturbing anyone, and I am at peace.  I’m lucky that I’m very comfortable in my times alone.  I love to have people around me; don’t get me wrong – just not all the time.  I’m a true Aquarian… I need my solitude, and life on the beach provides that for me.  I love the summertime here.  My life is chaotic, unscheduled and fast paced in these times, but once summer ends, I go back to normal…. slower…. calmer... and as long as I have my  periodic adventures…..happier.

Gone but not forgotten....

“I just have a hard time dealing with death.”  These are the words my 20 year old daughter said to me with her voice breaking after she came down to console me after I learned of the death of one of my oldest friends.  Those words immediately dried my  tears and kicked me into “Mom gear” – the gear of forgetting your own pain but trying to put it into perspective for your baby.  She was right – death is hard to deal with.  It is  final – and finality is hard to accept.  It’s such a different sense of loss.  You lose a job – you’ll find another,  you lose a boyfriend – another one always comes along, you lose your temper – you can usually make amends.   But death – you will NEVER see that person again while you are living.  That is almost impossible to accept.

That’s when God takes over.  He immediately fills your senses with almost every happy memory you had with that person.  It’s crazy.  The memories just wash over you – things you haven’t thought of in years – things that you had forgotten.  So that’s what I shared with my daughter.  Remember – always remember… and cherish those memories.   Your loved ones live on in your memories.

I’ve lost some of the most influential people in my life when they were too young – - far too young.  I lost my father when he was only 56.  He died of lung cancer.  Yes he smoked (which people always ask me – like that makes it ok) – but he had quit 20 years earlier – cold turkey.  He was a doctor, and he understood his disease – too well.  He tried to beat it and fought like hell, but it was just too tough.   I remember his eyes…. his eyes became so big and pleading.  He asked me if he was a good father; he apologized for not being there for us when we were little (my parents divorced when I was 5)…I assured him he was always there for us – maybe not in person, but he always took care of us.  So in a way – his death healed any guilt or pain either of us had for a father/daughter relationship that was not a fairytale.  We loved each other –I got my senses of humor and adventure from him – I know that.   My brother’s sense of humor is exactly like my dad’s too – even his laugh.

 I’ll never forget hanging up the phone after learning of his death – so final and sad.  That’s when God sent the memories --- I remembered everything all at once – like a blur – I remembered singing  “I see the beacon and the beacon sees me” when the beacon atop Methodist Hospital would come into view as we’d drive to visit my dad during his internship there.   The way he always drove huge Cadillac Eldorado convertibles and would insist on having the top down no matter what.  We’d get ice cream, and he’d pop us in the car and drive off with the top down.  With the wind blowing, my hair would wrap around the ice cream, then wrap around my face – what a mess!   I remember how he taught me poker, and would let me win – letting my winnings accumulate…and just as I was spending the money in my head – he would bet me double or nothing.  I’d bite  and lose everything – over and over.   I always bit.  He would always laugh and say "Geez Lis, I can't believe you fell for it again".  I do not gamble anymore – I credit my dad for that!  He was a brilliant well rounded man and a skilled surgeon, and   whenever I see a doctor in scrubs my heart aches a little.   I  remember….

Learning about the death of my boyfriend from college was devastating.   He was the brightest light I’ve ever met – just a wonderful person.  Although I hadn’t seen him since we’d ended our relationship 25 years earlier– he influenced my entire life..  I admired his approach to life - really trying to see the good in people…really trying to take the high road.  That’s how Steve was.  He always made people feel good – even if they didn’t necessarily deserve it.   He would tell me that it took nothing from him to make others feel special.  So, although I will never be the person Steve was, I try to be a better person.  I try to teach my kids those lessons – don’t gossip, don’t judge – hard to do – but Steve’s influence makes me try.  We never know the whole story – give people a break - and don’t find joy in someone else’s misfortune or poor judgment.  That’s what Steve taught me.  When I learned of Steve’s death I felt like I’d been kicked in the stomach.  He was only 50 –  he committed suicide.  I don’t question his reasons – he had them- clearly.  I don’t judge him for his action as so many do when it comes to suicide.  It just absolutely broke my heart – for him,  for his family, for his friends – for me.  I joined facebook because of his death, and as I reconnected with old friends,  I had that one very sad nagging feeling – I would never be able to reconnect with Steve – to thank him for making me try to be a better person – for helping me understand how to raise my kids.  He never knew the influence he had on my life.  That’s when the finality of death really hit me – I was completely heartbroken --- and that’s when God rushed in with the memories….  I remembered every specific thing… the way he’d encouraged me to take on challenges I didn’t think I could do – the way he celebrated my success when I actually did it  or consoled me when I didn’t.  I remember his hand turning the knob on the door before we walked into my surprise party on my 19^th birthday – what a strange memory.  I remember the way we’d dance at parties, and how his eyes sparkled with laughter. The beauty of Steve was how he could make every experience – no matter how small – memorable.  I will forever remember that special person, and when I start to get negative, I remember his lessons.  I remember….

And now Mary is gone…. at only 54.  Her battle with ovarian cancer was long and hard fought.  She was my boss and became my cherished friend.  She was my maid of honor when I married my husband Tom, and she was Christine’s Godmother.  I was in her wedding when she married her husband Rich, and I was with her 5 years later when he was diagnosed with a brain tumor and sadly died.   After Rich’s death the rainbows appeared…  She believed it was Rich looking down on her, and I adopted her belief that rainbows show up when you need hope….  I’d questioned God when Mary was diagnosed with cancer, and I questioned him more as he would make her think she’d beaten it finally and it would once again rear it’s ugly head.  But I think his real work was helping her face it with humor and dignity.  I said goodbye to her yesterday, and as everyone talked about how she amazingly battled her disease,  all my mind could do was relive the memories.  I didn’t really hear anyone’s words – I watched the replay in my head of all our times together.  I remembered her beautiful blue eyes that held innocence and mischief at the same time.   I remembered The “Mowgli dance” we used to do every time we’d see each other --- in restaurants – at meetings – we didn’t care.  How she’d always “Swwwing by” for a glass of Chardonnay after work, how she burst into tears when Tom surprised her at her wedding after having surgery the day before for a tumor.  And I remembered her laugh - her beautiful effervescent laugh.   I remember….

So I’ve lost three very influential people in my life – the people who helped shape me.  It’s final – they will never ever come back.  I told Christine that it’s hard and it’s not fair…. but that’s why we have the memories.  God wants that for us.  He takes these people from us for his own reason, even if we don’t agree. Really,  how can we agree – ever?  He has his reasons, and we have to trust that our loved ones are going to have a wonderful eternity.   I believe that those we’ve lost  look down on us after they are gone, and I absolutely believe that God has given them the power to fill our heads with all of those memories.  I believe that the reason some of these memories surprise us is because they aren’t just our own memories – they are our joint memories…and God is pulling us back together through those.  They do live on – they live on in our hearts--- they teach us life lessons that remain with us forever.  So I tell my daughter – remember – always remember……

Not sure about this....

Writing a blog.....is it something I want to do?  I've kicked that around - all the interesting people I meet and conversations I have ....should I share my perspective - ask for other perspectives?  I asked my husband this question just now - his answer -- "Do you want a fried egg?"  haha  - Now that's a whole topic in itself - husbands who listen but don't hear...   I told my daughter I didn't think anyone would be interested in what I have to say.   She told me to write this for me - just for me. So I said, "So it's like a journal?"  and she said - "Yes mom, its a journal that everyone else can read...so be selective".   SO yes, I've decided to start a blog with random topics that maybe only I am interested in.

I used to write for a living...for other people.  My degree is in public relations, and I chose that field because you can influence business, but you are behind the scenes mostly.   That's where I am most comfortable - which will probably surprise many.  I got to the Communications Department in a roundabout way - through a series of positions with different divisions of my company.  I worked my way up the hard way- the right way - sales rep,  Div. Mgr, Rgn Mgr, Training Mgr....but PR was my favorite role - one I could have stayed in forever if not for the hour and 10 minute commute each way and the pull of my family.  I wrote in the voice of the senior executives of my company - which was part of the largest healthcare company in the world.  I wrote their letters to the employees, their presentations to companies, their responses to questions from the media.  I helped them prepare for speeches and presentations, coaching them  on their delivery,  creating the words for them,  and serving it all  up for them to approve or disapprove.  I loved it.  Writing in the voice and style of many people is interesting.  You put yourself in their position and write from their perspective.   You hear or read the words you've written,  you take pride in those words and how they are delivered, but they are actually owned by someone else.

I took on a similar role when I quit working almost 13 years ago to be a full time mom and supporting wife.   This is familiar to all of the wives and moms out there - working behind the scenes while offering support and guidance.  The mom thing is natural - blanketing our kids with love -  sitting  back and watching with pride, offering support as they navigate the waters of their lives - never trying to steal their thunder or impose too much pressure.  The wife thing is a little harder.  I married a very charismatic man - that's what drew me to him - the way he could walk into a room and the energy would change.   My career became that of a  Corporate Wife - supporting my husband's  career goals - which included countless moves, living in separate cities and states, and raising the kids alone.  I became "Tom's wife".  I often find myself saying, "I used to be....."  Trying to remind myself and others that I once had talent and professional goals - that he wasn't a CEO when I married him - and I wasn't a trophy wife - I was a colleague.  But really, does it matter to anyone but me?  Probably not.   So now I  realize that I am still a  PR person - it's just a different corporation I work for now - my family.  My talent isn't past tense - it's just not acknowledged through feedback and performance reviews - it's often not acknowledged at all  --  but  I know it's the most important job I've had.

So - here I go - attempting to convey my own personal thoughts without feeling that I have to represent anyone else for the first time since I was in my early 20s...  Could be interesting.