Peace Love Understanding

According to the list of topics for every day in November, I'm supposed to write about something I crave.  After thinking about it and coming up with really lame cravings, I realized why I was having difficulty: it's Veterans Day.

So, I decided to write about that instead and then I came up with something!  I crave peace.  I want a world without war.  I want people to stop screaming and maybe open their minds and come up with something that works for everyone.  Give a little, get a little.

And most of all, I want all of our troops to come home safely.  I hate the fact that so many of our citizens are facing life and death situations, or getting maimed physically and emotionally.  I truly appreciate what they do for me and for all of us.


Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends. (John 15:13).

 So thank a veteran and wear your poppy in their honor.   Not just today though, remember them every day if you can!

p.s.  I wrote this on Thursday 11/11, but did not post it until 11/14 because I'm an idiot. Sorry!

James

So I was supposed to write yesterday about a dear friend.  I started it, honest!  But then I kind of got bogged down.  Well, there was the work thing too, but that wasn't really it.

I was having a hard time picking "my dearest friend".  What a hardship!  I have so many "dear" friends that it's difficult to figure out who is the dearest! LOL

It's true – I've got a LOT of friends.  That's partly because I grew up overseas (Hong Kong) in a very transient place, and now I live in another very transient place.  I've got a lot of different "sets" of friends… my HK friends, my old college/Hoodlum friends, my old "Bob's" friends, my work friends, my Nanny's friends, my trivia buddies, my Aroma friends,  my RHR friends, my family friends, etc. etc. etc.   Some of these "sets" overlap in weird ways too, but it is a bit nice to have a lot of friends who don't necessarily even know each other!

But, when it got down to it, I asked myself: "Who would you say is the one person on whom you can always count to be there, to make you feel better, to make you laugh?  Who will always have a piece of your heart?" 

And I realized that that one person isn't here anymore.

Hasn't been for about almost 27 years.

And that's why I couldn't write.

But… it's important to write about him, isn't it?  If it still hurts 27 years later, maybe writing about him will make it a little better.  So… let me introduce you to James.

James moved to HK when he was about nine months old, shortly before I was born.  His dad and my dad were both surgeons, medical Southern Baptist missionaries.  My understanding is that Uncle Don (his dad) came to HK to work with my dad (who James called Uncle Lewis) in the Baptist Hospital (which my dad had just finished building).  As it turned out, their entire family became my family's best friends.  Aunt Mary and my mom got on like a house on fire, their oldest son was the same age as my brother, and I was between James and his little sister Donna. 

I don't remember first meeting James (probably because I had barely been born) but there are SO many pictures of the two of us together as little little kids, I'm just imagining that we were best friends from birth!  I used to call him my "twin brother from another mother" (after the Dan Fogelberg/Tim Weisberg album of the similar name -- to which I was introduced by James, of course).

James was hilarious.  He was very very smart and could use words like a paint brush.  I remember in elementary or maybe even in Jr. High school, he convinced his parents to let him open up an ice cream store… in their living room!  I, of course, was his willing assistant, and I think Donna, Paul, and maybe even Devra got into the act.  I used to go over to their house to spend the night, and it alternated somewhat between staying with Donna or James… but mostly James.  I remember magic shows and other entrepreneurial adventures, and still love the fact that his parents let us do them!

And I remember hours and hours playing with James, Donna, Paul, and Devra creating towns with the Fisher-Price people, connecting them with the Matchbox tracks as highways… from James and Paul's room, all the way down the hall, turn left and all the way down to the living room and back. 

I remember playing circus under the dining room table.  They had this great tablecloth that looked like a "Big Top" and we would while away the hours under there with James's imagination keeping us entertained.

I remember one time when I was sleeping on the bottom bunk, and James jumped off the top bunk in the middle of the night.  I called to him but he didn't answer, so I followed him.  Down the hallway, down the stars, open the house door, down the driveway, and then he went out of the gate and closed it.  (I stayed INSIDE the gate!)   I heard him say something like "Oh crap!" as soon as the gate was locked, so I called him again and never heard such a grateful James.  Apparently, he had a bit of a sleep-walking problem! 

I remember in Jr. High and High school, we would sit in the huge living room while James introduced me to Fusion Jazz on the family's quadraphonic stereo (I especially remember that they had reel-to-reel tape!) .  Or, we'd just listen and laugh our butts off to Bill Cosby.

I remember visiting the family in Louisiana on one furlough – I think I must have been going into third grade – and they had two horses, a black one and a brown one.  Which James of course, had named "Bwack and Bwown Booty".  I sat behind him on "Bwown Booty" and laughed and laughed!

We had both started school at Kowloon Junior School, but he was a year ahead of me.  Then his family moved to the US for a furlough and they put him back a year because he was too young for the American system.  As I mentioned, we visited them in the states a few years later, and then they went back to HK and we stayed in the US.

When they returned to HK, James went back into the British system at KJS and then KGV (King George the 5^th).  I came back for 5^th grade and was sent to Beacon Hill School so I didn't get to see James at school at all.  So, I would head over to Essex Crescent nearly every day instead!

I started going to the American school (Hong Kong International School – HKIS) in 7^th grade, and I believe James's family went back to the States while I was in 8^th grade.  When they came back, James joined me at HKIS and we were in the same grade… and in some of the same classes.  That was perfect for me!  We had English (1^st period) and Humanities (6^th period) together, and along with my good friend Scott Morris, we put those teachers through hell!  But even they couldn't help laughing. 

I lived in Atlanta in 10^th grade, and we didn't really write all that much, but when I got back to HK, we were inseparable again.  His girlfriend Tracie wasn't really that excited about it at first… I left Atlanta the day after school ended, which was about a month before school ended in HK.  So, James convinced me to come to school every day and hang out on the Village Green, an area set up in the cafeteria for hanging out purposes.  It was great!  It was made up of four large blocks (about 6' by 15'?) covered in green indoor/outdoor carpet.  James, Steve I. and I would move them around into interesting shapes and sit in precarious positions reading, playing cards, or whatever.  And then Tracie (who I knew from 7^th – 9^th grade) pulled me aside and said, "He's MY boyfriend!"  To which I laughed and said, "Yeah, but he's my BROTHER!"   Then I explained using our last names, which when combined was the name of our dads' fairly well-known partnership at the time, and how I'd known James since birth, and she went "Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh!"

James and I had 11^th and 12^th grade together at HKIS, and he was still the amazing, senstive, creative, wonderful guy I'd always known.  In 11^th grade, my parents and I moved to an apartment on Nathan Road, which was no where near anybody else, and made me fairly depressed.  But James would go out of his way to walk me home and cheer me up (usually involving something like wearing his underwear (CLEAN!) on his heaed), so I wouldn't feel lonely.

We moved back over to 30 Oxford Road, and for some reason, James started coming to stay with me after school.  We'd get home at about 4:30pm and I'd make cheese omelets.  We'd turn on Sesame Street (only show on the English channels at that time), or play piano and sing, or we'd joke about soccer, or something.   I think our upstairs neighbors had gotten the trampoline at that time (which had travelled from the Harvey's house (28 Oxford) to our old house on York Rd to the house on Essex Crescent and back), so sometimes we would sit out there and plot our take-over of the universe… no, not really.  We'd just talk.  About life, the universe, and everything.

And then we went to college.

I went to Vanderbilt University in Nashville, TN, and he went to Baylor University in Waco, TX.  Once again, we didn't write that much, but we would call each other at least once a month.  Freshman year was hard on me,  and the worst was that I didn't get to see James at all that year.  Sophomore year was weird because I got mono for part of the year and didn't know about it until it was almost over.  (Messes a person up!)  But I was able to get back to HK during summer and hang out with the teenage Devra, which was fun!

 Junior year was the worst.  I sort of "unofficially" dropped out of school for one semester, and then officially dropped out the next when Vanderbilt put me on academic probation.  A lot of that time is a bit of a blur for me, because a LOT went on in my head then.  I went back to Vanderbilt the next Fall and thought I was doing well until my English prof failed me – even though I had aced every test and paper – because I didn't show up to class enough.   When I went to protest it, I found out he had gone on sabbatical so I had to wait a year.  Needless to say, the things coming out of my mouth at that time were NOT the most complimentary!

I had also met a guy and gotten engaged.  I found out later that he was sleeping with a friend of mine and decided, "uh, this is NOT going to work!".  But at the time, I was just a bit of a basket case.   I was out of school, living with my boyfriend, and working part time at a sub sandwhich shop (along with my boyfriend).  I felt like I was having a meltdown – nothing was going right and I just didn't know how to change it back to the right path!

And then one night, I was working at the Sub Base and I got a call from my brother.  James had killed himself.  He didn't know all the details, but he knew that I would want to know as soon as possible, because he knew how close we were.  I felt like I had been stabbed.  I was very lucky that my (very dear) friend Megan was there that night because I just could NOT take it all in!  I took over washing dishes in between phone calls and crying jags – and washing dishes surprisingly helped a lot.

Megan called my boyfriend to come pick me up (I not only didn't have a car, but I didn't know how to drive), but he couldn't do it.  I found out later that the reason he couldn't do it was that he was tripping his brains out – this was AFTER he had told me he wouldn't do acid anymore, so it was just one more thing.  He also had the gall to give me crap for getting a guy he was not very fond of to drive me home.  Needless to say, every bit of my anger and grief and vituperative bile came out at him, and at all the other people tripping balls at my house.   (Also needless to say, we didn't stay together for much longer.)

I went back to Hong Kong for a month to recuperate, and I'm sure my parents were very worried about me.  This was in 1984 and I suddenly realized why George Orwell picked that year – it was a horrible year!  But the absolute worst part was that James died because he didn't think anyone loved him.  I did!  And I still do.  And I always will.

I learned something very important that year:  do not ever assume that your friends know that you love them.  Tell them! 

OK, I'm going to stop crying and leave the office now…

Self Indulgent Rant

There's been something bothering me lately.  It all started around Mother's Day, a day which is like any other Sunday, except that it has been put aside as the day to celebrate all mothers as the wonderful human beings they are because they gave birth to someone.

But that's not true.  Just giving birth does not automatically make a person wonderful.  Just ask Renee Bowman's daughters.  But that's also not the point of this post. 

In the last several years, I've had several married friends who have been unable to get pregnant naturally, so they have gone through IVF and other tortures in the desperate attempt to have children.  Sadly, these attempts have not worked, so to them, Mother's Day is just a big fat slap in the face.  As is any pregnant belly that accosts them at work or the store, or whatever.  I love them and I feel for them, I really do.  I think it would be great to have little versions of them running around in the world, especially because I would TOTALLY spoil them rotten.  I think they would probably be great parents, and I empathize with them on the fact that they can't have children. 

The problem is that really, neither can I.  Well, I don't know if it is still physically possible, but realistically, I can't have children either.  Why?  I'm single.  I haven't had a steady boyfriend in years, and it doesn't really look like I'm going to get one anytime soon.  Or ever. 

I've said this before, and people have responded with "Well, couldn't you do the sperm donor thing?"  And they are completely missing the point:  why would I want to create a child with some stranger who happens to meet whatever impersonal criteria I put on an application?  Shouldn't a child be created out of love?  Should I create a child just so that I can get the love I don't have in my life?  That's just stupid. Quite honestly, I'm tired of being alone.  But I'm not going to purposefully create a life just to keep me company.  I have a cat for that.


But I think I would have been a great parent too, mostly because I'm a pretty good aunt (which I love being), but… it would have been nice to be able to have a child with someone I loved and who loved me and with whom I wanted to spend the rest of my life, watching our kids grow up.  My childless friends seem to forget that at least they have that person in their lives, even if they don't have the kids. 

So – what's my point?  I think this started really bothering me when one friend asked me how another friend who has been going through all the IVF stuff survived Mother's Day.  I understood her concern, but the conversation went on and on about how sad it was to know that "you and your husband" couldn't have kids, and it just bothered me.  I felt that my own heartbreak didn't matter.

And it does matter. It's the sort of thing that gets a girl depressed, which certainly doesn't help her meet and fall in love with the perfect man who will whisk her away on his Fluffy White Horse and swear his love and fidelity forever and ever and kiss her JUST right and they'll all live happily ev … *cough*   Sorry about that... went off into Fantasyland there for a sec!  ;-)

Anyway, self-indulgent rant over.  I just wanted to say that there is another viewpoint in all of this.  Yes, it's awful when you go through all of that and realize that your body just can't do what you need it to do.  Just think how horrible you would feel if your body could do it, but there was no one to do it with. 
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OK, I'm going to see Robin Hood tonight so I can fantasize about a bearded rebel wearing leather and riding a big white horse.  And don't worry, I'm seeing my therapist next week.  :-)    (And get your mind out of the gutter.)

Hugs and kisses, kiddycats!

More thoughts...

I had to go to a funeral yesterday. M and G picked me up for the drive down to Old Town Alexandria, and since we had allowed for traffic, we got there about an hour early. We decided to go another 11 miles and see if we could see Mt. Vernon: the answer is no, we couldn't (wasn't open yet), but it was a nice side-trip anyway! The drive was gorgeous in my eyes -- very gray, stark, and misty, which I loved. It seemed appropriate for a funeral, and for Thanksgiving; my favorite was when you couldn't see the difference between the river and the sky. Lovely.

Anyway, during the funeral service, I started thinking: What would my funeral service be like? I was born in a Catholic hospital, raised a Southern Baptist missionary kid, and went to British and Lutheran schools… in Hong Kong. I call my religion "Phredism" because it's mine, an amalgam of everything I've learned and believed through the years and the main tenet of Phredism is "Do unto others as you would have done to you." I can't imagine having a church service for my immortal soul since I believe it's already been taken care of.

I started thinking about the music I would like to be played: Solace (Scott Joplin), Rhapsody in Blue (George Gershwin), All Good Gifts (from "Godspell"), and Every Little Thing She Does (The Police). And on the classical side, maybe "The Heavens are Telling" or anything by Mozart. I'd like to maybe record something with my nephew, maybe "Angel" by Sarah McLaughlin. That would be kind of cool to have my voice at my own funeral. If not, then I'd love for Stephen to sing something, especially if it's his own composition. And "I Wish" by Stevie Wonder. OK, pretty much anything by Stevie Wonder. "Bridge Over Troubled Water"? And what was that song I heard last night by Rare Earth? "I Just Want To Celebrate (Another Day of Living)," yeah, that's it. Elton John, Beatles, Motown (Marvin, 'Retha, Rev. Al Green, Smokey, Gladys and her Pips, etc. etc. etc.), Coldplay, U2, Crowded House, TOFOG, … oh the list goes on, who can choose? ;-)

As for words, I'd like to be able to say something to everyone who had been in my life and made me a better person. And then I realized that it would be a better idea to go ahead and say it while I'm still alive!

So:

• Thanks to the Hoodlums who have stuck with me through thick and thin and thick (and thick) again.
• Thanks to my family who love me anyway.
• Thanks to my parents for raising me to think for myself.
• Thanks to Mom for always being willing to stand on her head.
• Thanks to Dad for introducing me to mystery books, crossword puzzles, and Shakespeare.
• Thanks to my kitties who snuggle with me when I am down.
• Thanks to Sara, Rachel, Emily, and Stephen who give me inexpressible joy, always.
• Thanks to my brother for being there when I needed him and for always ALWAYS laughing with me.
• Thanks to my sister "K" for being such a wonderful, caring, amazing person and thanks to her and her husband for letting all of us invade their space for so many Thanksgivings!
• Thanks to my sister "C" for opening up about things she didn't want to talk about, so when I experienced them I knew what I was in for and wasn't as scared. And thanks for sitting on Dave when we were kids.
• Thanks to my in-laws for recognizing what wonderful people my siblings are, and loving them even AFTER you met the rest of the family.
• Thanks to the people who serve our country, in unbelievable ways.
• Thanks to Ang who will sit down right next to me even (especially) if she has nothing nice to say.
• Thanks to the police and all emergency personnel who go into the situations from which the rest of us run away.
• Thanks to all of my ex-boyfriends who taught me something even though it hurt. Every time.
• Thanks to all my high school teachers for being brave enough to move overseas to teach ornery, obnoxious, smart-ass "third culture" kids. And for doing such a great job of it! (Especially Mr. Matthews, Mrs. Chern, Mrs. Jiminez, Mr. Kohl, and Mr. Meyers)
• Thanks to the people who walk their dogs down the street and let me meet them. I can't have a dog in my apartment, so I really NEED my dog fix!
• Thanks to the dogs I meet who give me waggy tails and puppy kisses.
• Thanks to my DC friends for laughing at my jokes and making me giggle and "lol out loud" when I really really need it.
• Thanks to the people walking on the sidewalk who make eye contact and smile.
• Thanks to the guys behind Monty Python for making me laugh and laugh and laugh.
• Thanks for sunshine and for rainy days.
• Thanks to Todd for letting me hear the Elton John/John Lennon concert (awesome!), Rare Earth, and Motown, and all of the great bands to whom you've introduce me.
• Thanks to my friends at Crowe Crossing for their imagination, artistry, hilarity, and caring.
• Thanks to Dale Wilson (and "The Sting") for introducing me to Scott Joplin music.
• Thanks to my best friend from college (M) who introduced me to DC so many years ago and helped convince me to move to DC. And G for loving her, and for being the token man in the Hoodlums.
• Thanks to Mike, Andy, and Ben for being the best trivia team EVER (even if you did move away and leave me stranded).
• Thanks to Pioneer Woman for making me laugh, smile, and drool over her cooking. And for convincing me to start this blog (without even knowing it).
  

I'm pretty sure this list will continue!