Showing posts with label Washington. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Washington. Show all posts

Thursday, February 24, 2011

Call On Me

In between rounds at the bi-weekly trivia game at Jr’s, one of my dearest friends, Jim, announced that he needed some new material from ITunes to include in his workout mix.  Rising to the occasion, I grabbed a piece of paper and informed him that I knew the perfect song for his repertoire.  Trying to avoid the spills of lady drinks (aka Rose Kennedys) on the bar, I wrote 5 words on the slip of paper:  Call on Me – Eric Prydz.  Then, we went back to the game and managed to place third after an abysmal start.  Being a school night and all, we called it a night at the conclusion of the game.
The following morning, while having my daily iced coffee, I received the following email (expletives removed) from Jim via Facebook, “So I look in my shirt pocket this morning, and I’m like Omigod, some guy named Eric Prydz said ‘call on me’ but didn’t give me his number.  Then I googled it.  D’OH!”  Nearly spitting out my iced coffee, I doubled over with laughter as it was perhaps the funniest thing I had heard in weeks, especially given the racy video that accompanies the song on You Tube.


But it made me think.  No one actually gives out their phone number anymore.  In fact, no one ever calls anyone anymore.  Tweets, texts, emails – you name it – short quips and status updates have replaced meaningful conversations either face to face or over the phone, and I am as guilty as the next person.  In fact, I would venture to say I have a downright phobia of talking on the phone and have even removed my land line here in DC although I keep the land line in Portland just to remember the good ‘ol days.
Don’t get me wrong; I have a love affair with Facebook, and it’s allowed me to catch up with some old friends which would have otherwise been impossible in the midst of our busy lives.  But have I really started using the “check-in” application on Facebook?  Yup – guilty as charged.  In fact, I get a special thrill about checking in at certain places like the gym and leaving out the frequency of other check-ins like Jr’s thereby confusing people that I lead a super human life committed to healthy living.  Once an intern asked another staffer of mine who Peter’s friend Jr was because she had heard me speak of him often?  The staffer laughed and replied, “Oh that’s just a bar he likes to go.” 
But in between all the electronic check-ins this morrning, I decided to nervously pick up the phone and actually check in with an old friend and colleague whom I haven’t spoken to in over a year.  The conversation actually lasted more than 2 minutes, and we employed the full use of complex sentences complete with proper subject and verb agreement.  In those ten minutes, I learned a lot and even laughed a little.  And amazingly, like riding a bicycle for the first time in years, I remembered how to do it:  communicating in real life and not over an electronic device that relies on satellite signals.
Most importantly, we got to share updates on our dogs that we got together in a parking lot in Fryeburg, Maine 13 years ago this May.  They both have gray hair now, they both move a little slower, they both have had unsightly lumps and bumps that are commonplace for dogs, and they both are a little hard of hearing.  But I learned that my friend’s dog has cancer, and it caused me to think back on all the joy both of our dogs have brought us.  Our two dogs even flew together on a small plane out to the island of North Haven because we had missed the ferry for a staff retreat.  We thought about putting scarfs over their heads and sunglasses on as they deplaned just to invoke a little Jackie O drama, but we didn’t. 
My Older Dog Alex

You never know how long you will have with a beloved pet, but you come to appreciate each moment a little bit more the older they get.  And it’s exactly for learning this kind of information that we should put the blackberry down and pick up the phone once and a while.  We might just have a meaningful human interaction that is actually worthy of a status update or check-in.

Saturday, February 12, 2011

The Journey Begins

From the back of the blue station wagon with wildly hot wood paneling, provided exclusively to managers by Tupperware, I asked for probably the 76th time, “Are we there yet?”

“You’ll know when we get there,”  responded my mom Nancy, her patience being seriously tested.

I thought about her answer and found myself wondering, “How will I know if I am there if I have never been there before?  I mean what a dumb answer.”

And after pondering that for all of about 2 minutes, “I asked again,  “Are we there yet?”

Fast forward 33 years, and I return often both to my question and to my mother’s response which doesn’t seem quite so dumb now. 

The milestone birthday of 40 will be here at the end of the year.   Not quite dreading it but also not jumping up and down for it to come, I find myself turning inward never quite content with the here and now, but striving to find the self awareness to know when I am in fact truly there.

So where is there?  That will be the subject of this blog – a journey to break free from the monotony of existing and find the will to really start living.  It will be a personal journey to break free from the black and white and to find comfort somewhere in that gray zone.

It will not be an exercise of merely writing for the sake of writing, but rather conducting a series of experiments to see if we can in fact get there – wherever there is.  And how appropriate given my life circumstances traveling back and forth for work between Portland, Maine and Washington, DC?   I often can hear, “Suitcase in Another Hall” playing in my head as I pack and then unpack and then pack again.

I often get asked by friends, “Which place do you call home?”  Sadly, the answer is never the same.  Some say home is where you hang your hat, but since I don’t wear hats, that won’t work for me. 

And there’s the song from Priscilla – Queen of the Desert where the drag queen sings, “I’ve been to paradise, but I’ve never been to me.”  So they board a bus with a giant high heel shoe on the top and travel across Australia to find themselves.   Well I am certainly not going to try that, but I digress.

I did try clicking my heels three times however, but sadly, just like the hat cliché, that didn’t work either.  “So are we there yet?”  you may ask.   Not yet, but my bags are packed again, and I’m ready to start looking in earnest.  I do believe I’ll know it when I’m there.  Maybe you will too.