Fourth Anniversary

Tonight, I was reminded that four years ago, we shot the last scenes of One Life to Live on West 66th Street. While the rest of my day, I'll admit, had been full of all kinds of things unrelated to that anniversary of sorts, when I was reminded, it took me no time flat to be transported to that day and place, and all the feelings from four years ago. I remembered the speeches, and the hugs from unlikely coworkers, the sudden sinking feeling that it was real, and the hollowness of walking out of a studio that was full and alive for the very last time. I remember being scheduled as the booth AD for that day, because I loved being there, in the thick of things. I remember trying to capture it all, and staying just a little longer, so it wouldn't actually be over.
 
It is clear from the Facebook posts that we all, in one way or another, have moved on over the last four years. But it is also clear that the feelings I have about being reminded of the anniversary are far from mine alone. No matter where we each have ended up, geographically, or professionally, or psychologically, we all still share the bond of that day, and of the days and weeks and years that led up to that day.
 
So on this anniversary of sorts, I am melancholy for what may no longer be, but even more, I am immensely grateful for what was, and for the people who remind me of everything we shared.

Dan and Phil and The Line Around The Block

As I approached my assigned waiting station, there was clear evidence that some people had camped there all night. There were empty coffee cups, and rotting banana peels, and scattered napkins. People had been here a while, and once the door opened for them, they hadn't much bothered to clean up after themselves.
 
I was late to the party--so late, in fact, that a few minutes would have made the difference between acquiring the book that my daughter was so eager to get, and the wristband that would allow her inside to meet the authors themselves. I was on line behind people in costume, and people who'd driven hours to get here. And when it comes right down to it, I was on line to do something for my daughter. And I was on line because my odd work schedule afforded me the possibility.
 
As I waited, I thought about how, in a world where I and people I know have tried--often unsuccessfully--to monetize creativity and great ideas, people are managing to do it all the time. One look at the YouTube history in my house reveals gamers and box-openers and crafters and comedians, each of whom has created a niche where his or her content is not just viewed, but discussed, and, in some cases, sponsored by commercials or interested companies, or, as in the case of the line-worthy people of today, a book deal. I could view it all as part of the reason that big-budget soaps, and the jobs that go along with them, have largely disappeared. And, on some level, I would be right. But I can also think of it as a reminder that it doesn't have to cost a lot to be creative. You don't always have to rent a studio to produce your work, or a large crew to help you make it. Which may not bode well for my job prospects, but bodes very well for the possibility of some really creative stuff getting out there.
 
Because of my time on line (and her time on line later on), my daughter got to see some people who entertain her and who have carved out a space for their creative endeavors. A reminder that, while the rules and the patterns may have changed, we each still have a chance of being not washed up yet.

Re:Connection

Today, on the daylight end of an overnight at work, I had coffee with an old friend. We'd kind of grown up in soaps together--only rarely on the same show, but connected throughout the years nonetheless. She apologized for keeping me from the nap she could see I desperately needed, to which I replied that the nap would come (and she'd know when as soon as I wasn't making much sense any more!). And so it was that for an hour, we recalled old times and discussed what new times meant for people with our history. We caught up on the children who were just infants in our soap days. We remembered old colleagues and did a little "where are they now?" And we shared thoughts of "where do we go from here," an inevitable question in the changing world of New York production.
 
When the hour was up (and it was very clearly time for my nap), I walked away with the warm feeling of having reconnected with a friend, a past, a former self. I walked away with the inspiration of seeing how someone else had handled some of the same challenges in different ways. And I walked away with new burst of energy for my next few days, months, and years.
 
Perhaps, because of the time spent and the sugar consumed (I do try to avoid actual caffeine pre-nap), I ended up with less sleep than I needed. But I came away with much more. Re-connection can be an eye-opening thing...

...And Then Assist The Child

I don't fly often. But I have traveled enough in my lifetime to have the airline safety speech imprinted on my brain, including that counterintuitive instruction to "place your own mask over your nose and mouth before offering assistance."
 
In what other circumstance would you see a parent (or any other basically caring individual) take care of his or her own needs before helping a child? The safety instruction is, I'm sure, designed to ensure that the well-meaning adult doesn't pass out before succeeding in helping either one of them. Without hearing it, most of us would automatically jump to help the child next to us. And so it is that those words have remained part of the safety announcement for as long as I can remember.
 
I am not getting ready to take a trip, or reflecting on my past travels, or considering the merits of air safety. But I have been realizing over the past week, a week that was, for me, full of working nights and napping days, of careful attention to my own stamina, how very spot-on that safety announcement is. We can't be of much use to our kids, or anyone else who needs our help, if we don't make sure to take care of ourselves too. We have to take at least a little time to preserve our own health and stamina before we can preserve the health and stamina of the other people in our lives.
 
I may not like stopping first, or saying that a nap has to come before I can help with homework. I may not like listening to my own needs before those of my family. But sometimes, "putting on your own mask" has to come first. Sometimes, taking care of that, before we "offer assistance," can be the safest thing we can do--both for the child, and for ourselves.

In The Thick Of It

My son is elbow deep in goo--papier-mâché goo, that is (thanks, spell-check for the backup on that one). With help from online instructions and some pretty entertaining DIY videos on YouTube, he has transported me back to a childhood I don't even remember having. Did I ever even make anything out of this magical concoction of flour and water and newspaper, or is the reality that I only ever heard about it?
 
In any case, I can't help being slightly amused by the goo and his immersion in it, and before long, my hands are almost elbow deep as well. In a life that usually has our fingers create with only the keyboards of our smartphones, immersion in goo is a refreshing change.
 
The goo event has come about because of a school assignment--perhaps that has always been the case with papier-mâché. What I am curious to see is whether this adventure in goo leads to more of them. The making of something out of nothing, the willingness to get a little messy and discover things you never did before. With papier-mâché creators offering online videos just like gamers, perhaps what started as a school project will become a kind of hobby. For today, I'm just enjoying being in the thick of it.

Getting To Be There

Having worked in television for quite some time, I am used to watching content online or on TV and wondering how it was made, and what it was like to be there during the production, often even wishing I might have a job working on it.
 
Tonight, what I was watching online was not a television show, but live streamed Shabbat services at the temple where I am a member. Sitting at the desk in my apartment, I was suddenly transported to a different place, out of the mundane preparing of dinner and picking up of dirty socks and into a room filled with song and celebration and community.
 
I have been in that room live. There have been times when schedules worked out and circumstances fell together, and I was there, among friends and strangers, absorbing the sights and sounds and feelings. Tonight, on a night when circumstances did not come together, I was able to be be there, differently, but there nonetheless. And for that hour, I really felt a part of it.
 
It's one thing to watch video and think that your greatest wish would be to have a job working on what you're watching. But to watch video, and be brought along as if you really were there, is a wish I never even thought to wish for. And a very lovely gift for a Friday.

Through The Motions

I crawl into bed mid-morning after a night of work, because even if I'm not tired right then, I know in my head I need to. And a few minutes later, my body is sound asleep.
 
I follow a daily path to the school where I pick up my child. I barely know what day it is, but my body knows when to go, so I start walking.
 
I direct the starting of homework and oversee the making of dinner, whether or not I really know what I am doing. But what needs to be done needs to be done, so I do it.
 
I read the daily emails that I always read and delete the ones I always delete, because it's just a question of getting through.
 
We are used to seeing "going through the motions" as a bad thing, as if we are not invested, not effective, not doing our best. Yet, sometimes, "going through the motions," because we are tired, or unsure of our next steps, or simply unable to do more, is how we actually accomplish. We move ahead, even when we barely know what's ahead. We do the work, even when we barely know why we're doing it. We take care of, because even unconsciously, we know that is what we need to do.
 
So, on the days when I fear that I am just going through the motions, I remind myself that some motion is better than none at all. And that the motions I've gone through will eventually propel me in the directions I need to go.