And Summer Begins

How is it that you define summer? Is it by the calendar, a hard and fast June 21st? Is it by the last day of school (which means that summer starts at different times all over, and even at different times for different kids in the same city)? Is it by the weather, so that summer really begins on the first hot day (which would mean summer might start in early May)? Or is it by the first day of camp?
 
For me, it has been a little bit of each of these, but none more so than today, when some of my kids headed out of town for their summer adventures. These days, my summer has become defined by a smaller household.
 
When I was out of work, the exodus came with a mixture of agony and relief. While a quieter household allowed me to focus on my job search, it also made the empty emptier and my purpose more unclear. Certainly, I was looking for work, but since I was not working (translate: bringing in money) or consumed with child activities, I found it hard sometimes to see quite where I fit in. Yet, I was glad to know that my kids could escape from my often somber mood, even if just for a short time. When I have been working, it has taken me most of the summer to get used to not racing each morning for early school buses, and used to returning each evening to the very different home dynamic.
 
Few of us grownups have the real summer/rest of the year split that our kids enjoy. But as my children "began their summer" today, I realized that what I see as summer has begun too, a time that has looked different to me each year. What will this summer bring? Hard to say--except for some ridiculous heat, a bit more quiet, and perhaps a little more sleep.
 
And from time to time, thoughts of having the noise and chaos and sleep deprivation return when everyone's back for the fall.

Vicarious

Sounds as though it could be the name of a TV show, doesn't it? I'm not sure how the show would look, but my life--in which I imagine many things by living vicariously through others' experience--now, that's something I can see...
 
As I navigate through the city streets to handle a car maintenance errand, I think about how much simpler the same errand must be in the suburbs.
 
As I trek along hot streets, choosing my destinations based on how many blocks I feel like walking, I think about my friends who have driven hundreds of miles today to reach their destination--vacation.
 
As I go to and from the basement doing our large pile of laundry, I think about my friends and relatives in houses, who can do their laundry daily without ever leaving home.
 
As I arrange for a summer for my kids, I imagine what the summer might look like if money were no object.
 
Clearly, we cannot live our lives completely vicariously through the experiences of others. I will not be moving to a house in the suburbs or embarking on a long road trip any time soon. Our circumstances are ours, and ultimately, we have to live our lives within those circumstances. But if we can live vicariously, just a little bit sometimes, we open ourselves to what could be, instead of feeling stuck with what is. And sometimes, we realize that "what is" is really pretty good.
 
So what exactly would that "Vicarious" TV show look like? I'll get back to you on that. I'm busy living vicariously through that person who's eating the hot fudge sundae.

Getting Ahead...Falling Behind

We all spend our days trying to get ahead, right? Ahead in our careers, ahead on life tasks, ahead for our kids. Unfortunately, sometimes there's a very fine line between ahead and behind. A few examples...
 
Ahead is getting up early to accomplish things before other people wake up. But when you can't stay awake and end up re-waking to a house of chaos, you are most definitely behind.
 
Ahead is having screen in hand at night to write a blog post early. Behind is being led to use that screen to play a video game you don't even understand with your child.
 
Ahead is working hard all day, every day. Behind is realizing that what you've accomplished isn't always enough.
 
Ahead is buying fresh fruits and vegetables so that you and your family can eat healthy. Behind is having to throw many of them away because they spoil before anyone can eat them.
 
Ahead is making a schedule. Behind is straying from the schedule so much that all you're left with is a list of things undone.
 
Ahead is getting home on time (whatever "on time" means today). Behind is realizing that since you didn't plan dinner in the morning, "on time" arrival won't result in "on time" dinner.
 
Ahead is having the wisdom to buy more milk in the morning. Behind is realizing afterward that you are out of eggs too.
 
Ahead is giving clear instructions about things that need to be done. Behind is falling asleep before making sure they are done. And imposing no penalties when they're not. And finding yourself doing them the next day.
 
For every few steps ahead, there always seem to be a few more behind. Clearly, I have to work on my directional skills. That is, when I get ahead enough to have time.

Tourist at Home

Today, I happened upon a giant Cracker Jack box. You know--that sugary popcorn and peanut stuff that would make you smile and your dentist cringe? It was huge--a replica four times my size--and I even walked away from the promotion with a box of the sweet stuff. It was like being a tourist in my own city.
 
Living in New York City means I am constantly surrounded by tourists and tourist destinations, yet, most of the time, my kids and I are too much in a rush even to think about enjoying any of the attractions. Between school and work and the various other commitments that go along with them, it sometimes feels as though we could live anywhere, since we don't have time to stop and see what's around us. When I was out of work, I thought I might do more "seeing" in my newly free time. But out-of-work free time doesn't go too well with paid entertainment, so the weeks came and went, no tourist days among them.
 
What I realized yesterday at the Cracker Jack box was how many opportunities there are to be a "tourist" at home, just by looking around rather than racing, head down, from place to place. Being a "tourist" isn't just about paying admission to see the sites. It's about getting a feel for a place, enjoying what it has to offer. And I am lucky to live in a city where many of the things "offered" are just out there to be seen.
 
There won't always be a giant Cracker Jack box in my path. And I won't always have the time to walk slower or take alternate routes. But if I can look up from time to time, I have a feeling I'll be doing a lot more sightseeing. Here at home.

Odysseys

Tonight at 9pm, I found myself traveling across town with my son to buy a birthday present for a party to which he was invited. Crazy as it sounds, this is not the first time I've done a late night odyssey like this. When you know that every day is filled to the brim, I figure it's important to use every moment, wisely or not, to make sure things get done.
 
We came home empty-handed, having not found what we were looking for, and refusing to settle for something else.
 
As I settled back in to my not-so-quiet evening at home, a period of time I usually spend decompressing from my day (and sometimes decompressing so much I fall asleep on the couch), I wondered, had we just wasted an hour or more of our time, time we would never get back? We might simply have ordered online (which we ended up doing anyway), and saved ourselves time and sweat and frustration along the way.
 
The more I thought about it, however, I realized that what we gained in our odyssey far outweighed what we lost. We, of course, got some exercise, as the entire journey was on foot (and scooter), at a pace appropriate for getting to stores before they closed. We also gained talking time together, which is rare in a family of five. And we gained the shared experience of our quest, and the experience of working together, even if our work produced not that much--okay, zero--result.
 
Sometimes, odysseys are like that. Sometimes a journey, no matter how long or how far or how fast, is important just for the journey. (Okay, that's a little deep when the journey is in search of a birthday gift, but go with me here).
 
In small ways, we go on odysseys almost every day. Our assorted quests may not always produce glorious results. Most of our odysseys, in fact, end in a bit of exhaustion and a lot of sweat. That doesn't mean we should never go on an odyssey. Our challenge is to make sure that when traveling, near or far, we find worthwhile sights to experience along the way.

Endings and Beginnings

As a parent, you are no stranger to beginnings--first steps, first words, first days of school. You quickly learn that you will constantly be faced with situations you have never before encountered, and be expected to handle them safely and wisely. And you do your level best to meet the expectations.
 
What nobody ever really mentions is the endings. In addition to being good at the beginnings, you need to be good at the endings too--that is, if you are to survive as a parent. Endings of books, endings of good (and bad) play dates, endings of parties and vacations and school years.
 
As we come upon the end of another school year, I am questioning my "ending" skills. Have I made sure my kids got enough from the year, right up to the end? Have I appreciated the year for what it was--whether a big transition or not? Have I made sure that we would all be ready for the next step, whether by test prep or hard work, by learning new skills or creating new adventures? Have I made plans for the kids' summers that will actually work, so that the ending will glide right into the beginning, or has the ending so caught me by surprise that I will be playing catch-up all summer? And, perhaps most of all, do I really need to be melancholy about an ending, when my kids are off and running to their next beginning?
 
The truth is that we can't ever begin anything unless we are able to get through the endings. Whether it's school, or work, or a great book, endings are what give us the opportunity to start something new. We can't explore what's in front of us without in some way leaving things behind. So, if we are to move forward, to the next grade or the next job or the next place, we have to survive--perhaps even celebrate--the endings, as much as we do the beginnings.
 
In just a few days, another school year will have ended. I'll be taking--well, at least trying to take--a big gulp, and moving on to the next beginning.

Who We Once Were

As people began to know about my Emmy, I found myself explaining how it was that I went from being part of an Emmy-winning dramatic directing team to editing video at a news channel. It wasn't that the Emmy itself made this transition unlikely. Rather, the Emmy was a conversation starter with people who didn't really know where I came from. And a way into where other people came from as well.
 
Early on in your career, it's easy to hear people's job stories. When you're the newbie, people are more than happy to regale you with tales of how they got to where they are. And when you continue to work in the same area, you begin to be the storyteller. And when you come up through the ranks, you find similar stories along the way.
 
Later on, and as you transition to other areas, as I have, moving forward becomes the focus. It becomes far more important to do well in your current role than to look back on your past ones. And somewhere along the way, it's easy to put aside those past roles, and redefine yourself in the new ones. It's a matter of adaptation. Of survival.
 
Today, because of the Emmy, I had the opportunity to talk a little about who I once was, and along the way, I got to find out a little bit about who some other people once were. It was a lovely eye-opener.
 
There's nothing wrong with adapting to who we are today. That's practical, and it's healthy. But sometimes, it's nice to be reminded of who we once were, and in the process, find out who the people around us "once were" as well.