Did You Notice?

Today began when I turned on the bathroom light in the morning and in the corner of my eye, I detected something unusual, which turned out to be a spider crawling up the wall. I don’t fear spiders, nor do I kill them. I respect them. They are so intricate and delicate and purposeful. I watched my spider for a few seconds and immediately decided to make today one of those days when I would take notice of the people and things around me. It happened to be a good day for that, not only because it was the day before Halloween, but also, if you happen to work in New York City, there’s a lot to observe any day of the week. I also had to be particularly aware today because it was one of those “schlep” days when I’m trying to manage my cargo without getting in anyone’s way. I’ve been having trouble with my shoulder lately (it’s clicking), so I’ve become dependent on this rolling briefcase, which is supposed to be a convenience when you have a lot to carry. The invention of the wheel replicates itself constantly in the creation of more and more things with wheels. When there’s an expedient way to make your life easier- leave it to someone to put it on wheels. Rolling things, though, do not necessarily guarantee ease, especially when you have to take them on the subway. Especially when you have to stop, push down the telescoping handle and then find and grasp the other handles right before you are going down the long, threatening subway stairs. There’s always someone rushing behind you who gets annoyed that you blocked his or her path and they grunt or cluck their tongue and you feel an immediate urge to “accidently” trip and bang the rolling bag into this person’s shin. But then you realize that it was a stupid idea to buy a cup of coffee because how in the hell are you going to hold onto the railing while carrying the bag that is too heavy to begin with, which is why it has wheels in the first place, and balance the cup of coffee in your free hand? Then, after you breathe a sigh of relief because miraculously you didn’t fall down the stairs and the coffee is still in the cup and you can now roll the bag, you encounter the turnstile and realize that the rolling bag barely fits sideways. Your bag doesn’t have the new, improved wheels that pivot, therefore, cannot be rolled under, so, you have to kick it beneath making sure the telescoping handle doesn’t get stuck on the bars while sliding your metro card through and praying the turnstile doesn’t read “Swipe the card again” four times before it lets you in. You do all this while trying to look graceful and then you start to mutter to yourself and not only do you look far from graceful, you look insane, as well. Today, though, it was a good day because I got a seat on the train and was able to drink my coffee while trying, nonchalantly, to do my people watching. I love to do people watching on the train. I sit there and try to figure out what kind of job each person has and what kind of life each person has. Are they happy? Are they miserable, bored, frustrated? There was this older woman who was in a deep sleep across from me. Nothing could disturb her. I wondered if she was dreaming. Then a girl walked on the train in a sailor suit, with hat and all; that’s when I realized it was the day before Halloween. I was able to finish my coffee by the time I got to my stop and was planning my exit as carefully as possible, without rolling over anyone’s toes or tripping someone who had the audacity to try to walk around me while I’m rolling my bag. And just when I thought that the encounter with the turnstile was a challenge, I get to the apparatus to exit the train station that has those open bars but works like a revolving door. Whoever invented that thing has a good laugh every night, I’m sure of it. I try, very gingerly, to put my bag inside this contraption while I slowly push my way out. And of course after I carry my bag up another long flight of subway stairs, about ready to have a heart attack, there’s another revolving door into my office building and yet another turnstile that I have to dig out my security card for while rolling the bag under, trying again, not to get the handle caught in the bars of this turnstile. I feel as if I just had a morning of basic training with the Marine corp through the obstacle course of revolving doors, turnstiles and stairs. By this time I’m winded and exasperated and when I get into the elevator, I notice everyone in there with me is not smiling. “Cheer up everybody.” I say, still slightly out of breath, “It’s Friday. And I managed to get me and my rolling bag all the way to work without killing myself or anyone else.” They probably thought I was crazy. But, what the hell, I’ll almost certainly never see them again, or if I do, they most likely won’t notice me.

That’s the way it is in this city. Most of the time we are oblivious to everything and everyone who’s around us. No one smiles or says good morning. And usually, when someone says, “Have a nice day,” it’s like a parrot repeating words that mean nothing to it. But today I tried to take notice of everyone and everything- the nervous guy, smoking while talking loudly on his cell phone, the homeless man who had no shoe on his left foot, the girl with the grey and black patent leather shoes, the woman walking her dog. They were all around, sharing my space, but hardly bothering to acknowledge anyone else’s existence.

In honor of my “take notice” day and in honor of Friday, I made sure to go out to lunch with my friends from work. We went to my favorite pizza place on Stone Street that has at least a twenty-minute wait on Fridays. We enjoyed a long lunch of pizza with fried eggplant topping while talking about life and death and love and marriage and not about work. There was one slice of pizza left over and I had the waiter wrap it up because I didn’t want it to go to waste. As we walked back to the office on the charming cobble stone street, still talking, I spotted something white, very white, right in the middle of Broad Street in lower Manhattan. “Is that a Halloween costume or a real bride?” one of my friends remarked. “It is a bride,” I responded. There she was, running across the street, with her two bridesmaids, right behind her, dressed in black, holding up her train as they dashed to the limo waiting on the side. I think we were the only ones who really saw them. It made me smile. It made me think of happy things.

I gave the extra slice of pizza to Calvin when we got back to the office. Calvin is that one person in the office who always takes the time to say "Good morning, how are you today?" with real sincerity. “This is for you,” I said, “because I love you and I know how hard you work.” I wanted him to know I notice that.

On my trip home, rolling my bag back through the turnstiles and revolving doors took less patience and attention; however, it was much easier without the cup of coffee. A girl was on the Long Island Railroad dressed as the vampire, Alice, from “Twilight” with fake blood smeared on her chin. Only a couple of people noticed, though. My husband picked me up at the train station and when we got home, he saw me struggling to lift the bag out of the car. “Here, let me take that for you.”

“Where were you all day?” I replied, but thought, “Finally, someone noticed..me.”

Is It All Worth It? ….Don’t Tell Me…

One of my favorite scenes in a movie is when Barbara Streisand sings “Don’t Rain On My Parade” in Funny Girl. I just love when all the budinskys are telling her what she should do and she puts her hands over her ears and starts saying, “Don’t tell me,” then breaks into the song making her point. Ahhh…if only real life was like a musical and when someone bombards you with their opinion of why you shouldn’t be doing what you’re doing, you just turn to them and burst into song, with an orchestra blaring behind you for extra support. Which brings me to my point about the people who tell me that we are spending so much on one day and how ridiculous it is when we could put all this money to some other good use. And don’t think I don’t know that as you’re reading this, that you have been one of those people at some point, because I know I have.

I just attended my dear friends Janet and Rob’s daughter Kristine’s wedding this weekend. She is the second of the children in my group of friends to get married. These are the children whom we witnessed grow up, the ones whom we discussed at every stage of their lives from toddler years to teen years to young adulthood. These are the ones who grow up so beautiful and tall, who mesmerize us with their transformation, until we suddenly look in the mirror and see that we have transformed, as well, and crossed the threshold from youth to middle age. In June, the first of our daughters got married and her mom brought the pictures to Kristine’s wedding. “It went by so fast,” my friend said, “I only have the pictures to remind me.” So, is it all worth it?

The night before the wedding I drove home with a colleague and friend who is one of those “wedding” poo-poo-ers. She didn’t have a wedding and never intended to. It wasn’t for her. “I think it’s crazy to spend all this money on just one day,” she told me. Unlike Barbara Streisand, I listened and even accepted her point of view. Saturday, the day of the wedding arrived, with rain showers hovering over us all day. We drove to the church, one where Ted Kennedy married his first wife, through the picturesque, winding roads of Westchester, excited, although, disappointed in the weather. And then as Mendelssohn’s wedding march resounded on the organs, Kristine appeared, led by her parents down the aisle. The rain didn’t matter because it was as if the sun decided to shine just around Kristine for that day, she looked so radiantly beautiful and idyllic. I made sure to catch a glimpse at the groom, Andrew, as he saw his bride, but I could never describe his expression in words, it would not do it justice. Julie, Kris’s grandma, read from the Old Testament, so poignantly, from the book of Sirach. It was the first wedding of her four grandchildren. It was a lovely ceremony, despite, the downpour of rain, which continued all day and into the dusk as we left the hotel for the reception. When inside, though, there was plenty of delicious food and music and laughter as guests embraced each other and danced. Every moment was full of joy, even the bittersweet ones missing and remembering those who were no longer here. It was especially touching seeing Kris and Andrew dance their first dance while Rob and Janet watched on the side, welling with emotion. There was so much to remember and cherish- the moving speeches made by Jaime, sister and maid of honor; Rob, Kris’s dad and by Andrew’s brother and father; the bride dancing with her dad and the groom with his mom. Many times people came over to me to say, “You’re next!” I let myself begin to imagine Lindsay and Scott’s wedding day.

The next morning, at the breakfast, Janet, still on cloud nine, told me, “I had a ball”. So there. And for all of you out there, you wedding poo-poo-ers, and nay-sayers. Is it all worth it? Yep. I believe it is. It’s just one day. But it’s a day full of lasting memories and love and bliss and we need as many of those in a lifetime as possible, no matter what the cost, even if it’s just one day, because…

“ooh life is juicy, juicy and you see, I’ve gotta have my bite,sir….Don’t bring around the cloud to rain on my parade.”

Planting Seeds

In the summer when I went to an old friend’s house and met the father of one of Lindsay’s former classmates from first grade, I remember him talking to me about how he influences his daughter in the decision-making process. “I plant the seed. And then, eventually, she comes around and sees my point of view and does exactly what I want her to do. But I never tell her outright. I just plant the seed.” That’s what he told me. Then his wife reiterated it not five minutes later. At the engagement party I had a nice long conversation with Scott’s mom about Lindsay and Scott, of course. And then, like deja vu, I heard it again. “I plant a seed. That’s all I do,” she said. “And eventually, my kids make good decisions.”

Is there something I missed along the road of parenting? I have never planted seeds. I just repeat over and over again like a broken record, I think you should do such and such or One day, you’ll thank me for giving you this advice because I have experienced it and I know what’s best for you. Subtlety is not my strong suit. I shoot straight from the hip. Besides, I don’t have the patience for planting seeds. I wouldn’t know the first thing about how to do it. Even when I plant for the summer season, I walk right past the seed packet aisle, which would cost me a fraction of what I end up spending, and straight to the already grown flowers.

I was talking to my best friend, Meryl, yesterday and we had this conversation about the seed planting parents and we both agreed, we are not part of that group. As a matter of fact, I blamed Meryl for being my role model in parenting and she graciously accepted her responsibility. I also realized that my own mother was a seed-planter. She never told me what to do. She did make suggestions and then told me I would figure out what I should do because I was smart enough to do that. Aha! I never gave my kids credit for being smart enough to figure out what to do because I thought and said I had all the answers. It’s a control thing, I think. No, I know. It is a control thing. I am a controlling, manipulative, overbearing mother. I just can’t stop myself. But I need to. The first step is admitting it and I have. I wish I just knew the next step. So, Meryl, my mentor parent, and I tried to figure it out. First, I said to her, “I have to take myself out of the picture. For example, what if I was dead? My kids would survive. They would have to make decisions all by themselves. After all, there are plenty of successful people out there who had no mother, or a mother who wasn’t always around- Barack Obama became president, after all, and it didn’t seem like his mother was ever-present. Maybe she was even a seed-planting parent.” Then Meryl told me a story about these two boys who lost their mother and then a couple of years later, their father, while they were teenagers. And- no one took them in. They had to get a teacher to live with them to act as guardian. “They’re both doing really well,” Meryl told me.

Okay, I thought, out loud, it can be done; your children can survive without your guidance. But I know the “dying” part is a bit extreme. Then we made a pact. We are going to join the Seed Planters. We are going to begin with never ever, ever saying “should”. The word “should” is forever banned and is a weed in the garden of growing children. The fertilizers are the words “could” or “can” or just being a good listener, even when you’re stomach is tied up in knots while you’re doing this. It will be difficult, but it sure beats dying to prove your kids will endure. And then when you are alive to see that the seed planting took root and grew into a good decision, you get to say, “I planted a seed.” I wish us luck.

It Was in the Fall....

October 10, 2009. It’s Fall. Well, the official beginning of Fall was a couple of weeks ago, but it was not as noticeable as it is now. The thing about Fall is that you have to take notice of it or you will miss it entirely; and then you are faced with the bareness of winter. Fall is the opposite of winter when it’s at its peak. The trees are satiated with earth tone colors, making you feel welcome as you drive home from a long day of work. As the leaves descend in beautiful foreboding, a sparkle of sunlight will catch your attention to a new tree with a shade of red you could swear you’ve never seen before. I am most content in the Fall; the problem is that it’s much too brief. Suddenly, it’s gone, leaving me to wonder if I gave it enough attentiveness.

It’s almost one week now since Lindsay and Scott’s engagement party and like the splendor of Fall, I feel like it passed in an instant. I just loaded the pictures onto my computer, but I don’t think they capture the memories I have from that day. It was in our favorite Thai Restaurant. They closed it for our party and we just about fit 96 people inside. Lindsay, Scott, Kim, Mark and I all wore shades of purple and grey. It wasn’t really planned, it just happened. If I flashback in my mind to the day of the party, what I remember is my mom and my Aunt Dorothy, sitting together, just like they used to all the time as I was growing up. In reality, they hadn’t seen each other in months. I see my cousins, so happy just to be together with family, sharing stories with my sister, brother and me. I remember Mark’s cousin, Marcia, being the first to arrive with husband, Danny, all the way from New Jersey. We both recalled how she was right there at the hospital when Lindsay was born. It became a little frazzling setting up the table for coffee, while greeting my guests, but my sister-in-law, Maryanne, thankfully, shooed me away and took on the task. And that bittersweet moment when Uncle Milty arrived all the way from Florida and Lindsay being so overwhelmed with emotion, waving her hand in front of her face to keep from crying. After they embraced, Uncle Milty took out a small box and said, “This from Aunt Laura.” Inside was a tiny pinky ring with the initial “L” in diamonds. Then I started to cry. I thought of my last goodbye to Aunt Laura and how we promised each other she would be at Lindsay’s wedding.

It was a day of joy and love- Scott and Lindsay looking so happy and so darn good-looking. Scott’s mom made a speech about how they compliment one another…and they do. It was our whole family meeting Scott’s whole family. It was the two sisters, Michelle and Kim, making the toast. It was Lindsay’s old friends…. Samantha Berman, from Kindergarten, all grown up, married and pregnant. It was Julia and Michael, who used to hang out at my house when they were teens, with their family- the future flower girl, Gianna, and a bouncing baby boy. It was Lindsay’s niece to-be, Marisa, the other flower girl, meeting Gianna for the first time. It was Erica, Lindsay’s partner in trouble in high school, being there with her fiancé. It was our gorgeous, smiling, funny Lisa, who has become part of the family. It was Gabby, from Musical Theatre college days, applying Lindsay’s make-up. It was Lindsay's new friends- from Lindsay and Kim’s Israel trip. It was meeting Scott’s friends and seeing the best man and groomsmen standing beside him as he asked them to be in the wedding party. It was Scott and Lindsay’s slide show, set to music, documenting the first year of their romance. It was Scott and Lindsay standing beside a poster with pictures of them when they were eight years old, she on a boat with her teeth missing, he in his baseball uniform. It was the past meeting the future.

It was hugs and kisses and bliss and laughter all inside a Thai Restaurant. It was in the fall.

To Scott and Lindsay on the Day of Their Engagement Party

October 4, 2009. Eleven months and one day to the wedding. We are all getting ready (there’s six of us here…using two bathrooms) for the engagement party. Lindsay’s friend, Gabby, arrived last night. Lindsay met Gabby when she went to school for musical theater. When I showed her how to use the Keurig coffee maker, she said “Oh, just like on set!”….remnants of talk from Lindsay’s acting days. Last night we all went to the restaurant to set up for the party. We worked like an assembly line. Phyllis, Scott’s mom, and Michelle, his sister brought heart balloons and made them into center pieces for each of the tables. Kim, Phil (Scott’s dad), and I put all the wine and champagne plastic glasses together and set them up on the table. Scott put his DJ equipment together. We worked past 11:30. When we left, it looked so festive; we were all exhausted and excited at once.

Last night I had a bad dream that hardly any people showed up to the party. I woke up this morning thankful it was a dream. The sun is bright and shining through my kitchen window; the weather is warm. My dress fits. However, Mark’s pants are too tight because he never listens to me when I tell him to try on his clothes a few days before the occasion. Yesterday I cut five inches off of my hair and dyed it platinum blonde. Brave me. As I was getting ready, I actually started getting extremely energized in anticipation of the wedding day. Then I took a deep breath and began, instead, to savor the moment of this day that I’m in, remembering to live in the present.

Scott and Lindsay, I tried to find an engagement card to express what I want to tell you. No luck. So you will have to settle for my words, with a few others, from quotes about love that I wanted to share with you. First I want to share some favorites quotes from films, in honor of my actress daughter.

"I came here tonight because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible." When Harry Met Sally

(This is also on Lindsay’s Facebook page.)

“It doesn’t matter if the guy is perfect or the girl is perfect, as long as they are perfect for each other.”
Good Will Hunting

"It seems right now that all I've ever done in my life is making my way here to you." The Bridges of Madison County

“You...complete me.”

“You had me at hello.” Jerry Maguire

And to complete this, I would like to share some favorite quotes from children about love.

"Love is when a girl puts on perfume and a boy puts on shaving cologne and they go out and smell each other."

"Love is what makes you smile when you're tired."

"When you tell someone something bad about yourself and you're scared they won't love you anymore. But then you get surprised because not only do they still love you, they love you even more."

"Love is when you tell a guy you like his shirt, then he wears it everyday."

"Love is like a little old woman and a little old man who are still friends even after they know each other so well. (This one’s in honor of my mom and dad.)"

So, Scott and Lindsay, Lindsay and Scott, or better known as Babe and Babe, these are my words. Love is like a child. It is precious and fragile. It is full of wonder and natural beauty. It needs to be nurtured and fed. Always remember that and your love will grow and thrive.

And always remember that I love you both. Congratulations.

-Mom

Stuff and Simplicity

It’s one day before Lindsay’s and Scott’s Engagement party. Gifts have started to arrive already. Big boxes, middle sized boxes, smaller boxes. My house has become the “Warehouse for the Stuff of the Future Mr. and Mrs. Kalmus”. There is so much “stuff” you need when you get married. It begins when the future bride and groom go to the stores and pick out the stuff for their registry and then put it online because the internet has become the “go-to place” for just about everything. Bed, Bath and Beyond is the most popular store for all this stuff; “beyond” being the endless possibilities of gadgets, gizmos and literally anything and everything that will completely domesticate the happy couple.

What would our life be like without all these boxes of stuff? I was watching Coco, my dog, the other day lying on my bed, nuzzled next to my leg. I heard her take in a deep gulp of air and let it out in one of her long snorty sighs. I said to Mark, “She’s so easily content.” Mark responded, “That’s because she doesn’t know any better.” “Maybe that’s the key to life,” I chuckled. The truth is Coco can be happy with just a bed, no bath, and certainly no beyond. Simply simple simplistic simplicity. Relationships can be simple too. He loves her; she loves him; just being in each other’s presence makes them both blissful. It’s the stuff that makes things so utterly complicated- brands, brand names, colors, textures, designs, styles- beyond, beyond, beyond. This leads to decision making and choices and then reconsidering the choices and before you know it you can’t even fall asleep at night on the bed that you chose the 100 percent Egyptian cotton sheets for because Bed Bath and Beyond ran out of stock on the matching throw-pillows to the comforter you picked out and it changes the whole design scheme you envisioned. Oy.

Let’s go back to the simple relationship of Lindsay and Scott. He loves her; she loves him. Just simply sharing chicken nachos and salad makes them content. I know this because I saw it happen last night when I invited myself out to dinner with them at their favorite alehouse. “We’re sharing our chicken nachos tonight,” Lindsay told me with a big grin. (They “share” to stick to their strict budgets that Scott created on an excel spreadsheet so they can save to buy a house to put all their stuff into.) They barely even looked at the menu when we got there and believe me, there was plenty of time to look at the menu because there was over an hour wait for a table. But they didn’t care. I watched them as they ate their huge plate of chicken nachos, which would have fed all of us. True love is sharing a plate of chicken nachos and in its simplicity, looking profoundly happy.