Making Memories

My mother told me once that after I turned 25 I’d be amazed at how quickly time flies. She was right. In the blink of an eye, kids I used to babysit have kids of their own. While I was still having fond memories of my 10-year High School Reunion, my 20th crept up on me! Time flies. So it’s become important to me to capture memories.


Photos are a wonderful way to remember places you’ve been, the people you know and the person you used to be. In 2001, I traveled to South Africa. My camera was broken so my boyfriend let me borrow his. To my horror, I got half-way around the world only to find that his camera was broken too! I have vivid memories of that trip but what I don’t have are pictures. 


As a writer, I also keep a journal and I keep many of my old journals. Looking back, I have detailed accounts of experiences I had forgotten I had! LOL! I also have a great snapshot of what I was thinking and feeling at several important junctures in my life.


I’ve never been one for scrapbooking but people who do have albums and mementos they can truly treasure.


More than personal remembrances, your photos, journals and scrapbooks can live on and be passed down to your children and grandchildren. Those items can provide an intimate portrait of you and the times you lived in much better than Ancestry.com ever could.




Time flies! So take some time to capture it!

Disengage the AutoPilot

All of us, at one point or another, have driven to work, school or even home and realized when we got there that we really didn't know how we did it. In other words, we do it so often that it's second-nature. It's rote. We do it without even thinking about it. We made that drive with the autopilot on.

It's not so bad. We travel that route over and over again. It's natural that we stop thinking about it.

What about autopilot for our lives? We get up, we get dressed, we go to work, we come home, we eat, we watch TV or get on the computer, we go to bed. We travel that route over and over again. Of course, it's natural that we stop thinking about it… only it's not.

Kids grow up quickly. We seem to age overnight. If we aren't careful, we'll blink and realize that years have gone by and we barely even noticed it. Relationships come and often they go with the good times becoming faint memories and the bad times remaining vivid and strong. Life happens whether we are watching it or not, whether we are ready or not. We don't have the luxury of autopilot. We need to be present and focused every day. We must live every day … and live it fully.

One of the security guards at my job died over the weekend. I will miss her terribly. Hers is the first face I remember even before I started her a year and a half ago. She greeted me with a smile on both of my interviews. When I came in early to take my badge photo, she made me laugh, and that is why I'm smiling so broadly on my photo. She was at that front desk every day until Christmas. None of us knew how sick she was until the very end.

I'm sure just about everyone in a building of over 600 people has a Barbara story. I have tons. She was a woman who had an infectious laugh and a quick sense of humor. She remembered faces and names and had a kind word for everyone. She didn't live on autopilot. She was present every day, experiencing life in its fullness and touching lives everywhere she went. We should all be so lucky.

44 and No More

Heavy D died today. He was one of the rappers that helped color my college years. When I read that he had been found dead in his Beverly Hills home, it struck me. It struck me because one of my favorite rappers from back in the day had passed. And, it struck me because, at 44, he was just one year older than me.

We are all guaranteed one thing. Just as we came in this world, we will leave it. Wealthy or poor, good, bad or indifferent, we will all die. However, as much as we love and cling to life, none of us want to face our mortality. It’s the ultimate elephant in the room. Seeing someone your own age brings it home in a way that is all too real.

I remember when my mom died; it was another jarring jolt of mortality. She was 44 too. The interesting thing is none of my friends wanted to talk to me about it. For one, they didn’t know what to say (and there really wasn't anything they could have said). Secondly, I realized that talking about my mother’s passing made them think about their own mother’s mortality, and no teenager wants to confront that inevitability.

But I have learned to take comfort in one truth. Each day is precious and should not be taken lightly or for granted. Every day I try to do three things: laugh, love and savor.

Whether I’m laughing at myself, my dog, a funny story or a sit-com, I find most things go better with a little levity. Laughter helps me to keep things in perspective and from taking myself too seriously.

I try to show love every day, if not directly through words, through my actions. Calling my dad, listening to a friend vent or helping another friend with car trouble, these are the things that show the people in my life that they are loved and appreciated by me.

Savoring is essential. Most mornings or nights when I walk Marty, I have the opportunity to gaze at a star-filled sky or see a sunrise. I might revel in a favorite dessert or a good glass of wine. While I was on vacation a few months ago, I walked leisurely on the beach enjoying the sand between my toes and the waves splashing against my legs.

Mortality for me doesn’t mean dreading death, it means cherishing life all that much more. I don’t know how long I’ll be here but I plan on making the most of it while I am.

Time with Dad

My father made the trip from Cleveland to Charlotte last week. I love when he comes down because it’s the only Daddy-Daughter time we get together. Yes, I’m a 42-year old woman but that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy time with my Daddy!

As a single woman with no significant significant other, we spent the first day and a half checking items off of my Daddy-Do list. When you don’t have a Honey to complete the Honey-Do tasks, you keep a list and wait for Dad to come to town! My father is a serious fix-it man and he enjoys taking care of those little repairs and household tasks. I also enjoy helping him. I always have. Over the years, I’ve become quite handy around the house and with the car and it all comes from watching and helping my dad.

We saw a movie. We walked together. I showed him around Charlotte. Basically, I enjoyed spending time with him. We talked and laughed and just enjoyed each other’s company. A while back, my dad was concerned that he couldn’t leave me a small fortune. He said he was getting older and he wanted to make sure I’d be okay if he was no longer here. His single-minded focus on ‘providing’ for me was having an adverse affect on our relationship.

I told him that he didn’t have to worry about ‘providing’ for me. I wasn’t concerned about him making lots of money for me as much as I was concerned about him making memories with me. First of all, I’m a grown woman and I do okay for myself. Secondly, if my Dad was no longer here, I’d rather have memories than money. We made a lot of good memories this weekend.

Once a Daddy’s Girl, always a Daddy’s Girl.

Little Things Mean a Lot

My mother died of complications from diabetes when I was fifteen. She spent the last two years of her life in and out of the hospital and she also lost her sight. I learned a number of lessons from that experience. One, we are not promised even one more day. Two, bad things happen to good people and we may never know why. Three, life is short and we have to live life now because later may never come. Finally, what I want to write about today, I learned to have an appreciation for the little things.

Every day, I find something to marvel at: a luminous full moon, a colorful sunrise, a warm, sweet cup of hot tea or (in the summer) an cold glass of iced tea, playing with my dog Marty or just driving with the windows down. One of my happiest moments occurred when I attempted to take a long weekend in Virginia Beach. I went by myself and it was around my birthday ... towards the end of September. The busy season was over but the days were still hot, warm and long. Unfortunately, through a series of unexpected events, I had to cut my trip short and I was devastated. I had really needed the time away.

Before I got into my car and headed back, I decided to take a long walk on the beach. I noticed it getting more and more overcast but I didn't care. I love walking on the beach. So I kept going, feeling the sand between my toes and the water splashing on my feet. I closed my eyes and felt the wind on my face. I took deep breaths of sea air. I felt really good. I found the perfect peace I'd been looking for right before I had to head home!

Anyway, I felt a drop or two of rain on my face. As I turned to look back, I realized that I was far away from my hotel and my car. Not wanting to be a human lightning rod, I decided to walk back via the boardwalk.

As I headed back, the sprinkles became light showers. The light showers gave way to a steady rain. Not long after that, the steady rain became a downpour. Unlike most people, I like rain. I like it a lot. I laughed out loud as I continued to walk outside in the pouring rain while everyone else ran for shelter. I'm sure I looked crazy. I didn't care. I was still enveloped in that perfect peace.

I got to my car soaking wet but it didn't bother me. I knew I created a memory that would last me a lifetime. A memory made up of a million little things.

Must be the Music

I was driving home from work the other day when an old song came on the radio. Instantly, I was transported back to my sophomore year in college. It was magical. Memories came flooding back and it felt good, really good. I'm pretty sure I put on a good show for people driving next to me in traffic as I sang and danced along with this old friend.

Shakespeare said, "If music be the food of love, play on," but music communicates so much more than love. Music has a power to transport us to another place or time. It can evoke strong emotions. It can anger us. It can empower us. It can draw us further down into despair. It can soothe our weary souls. It can change our moods. It's a force to be reckoned with.

So today, or tomorrow, throw in a favorite CD and revel in the joy that is music.

Come back and share which songs move you the most.

My Grandpa

The most patient man I ever knew was my Grandpa. In 23 years, I never once heard him raise his voice. He was kind to everyone. He never had a negative word to say.

They say patience is a virtue. Frankly, it’s not a virtue that many of us possess (I know I don’t). In today’s fast-paced society, patience is even less of a virtue. In many instances, it’s an inconvenience. We don’t want to wait. We want what we want when we want it. In fact, we normally want it faster than now.

Not Grandpa though. He could wait. In fact, he knew how to just be. Grandpa could just sit. Sometimes we’d sit together. We’d talk a little, but basically we’d just sit. He loved to ‘listen to the ballgame.’ He’d come over and he’d want to listen to the game, not watch it. He grew up on radio and he said he enjoyed it more when he could imagine the plays himself. He didn’t need a television to see it. He could see it on his own.

I think it’s from Grandpa that I learned to enjoy simple pleasures: a nice glass of ice water, a Fillet-o-Fish sandwich (a favorite for both of us), sitting in front of the fan on a hot summer day, or listening to stories about the ‘olden days.’ With Grandpa, it didn’t matter what we did, it was always a good time.

Patient, kind and true, my Grandpa was love in action.

Summertime and the Livin's Easy!

Two summers ago I went on a cruise with my family. Five days of relaxation and fun in the sun. Just being on the cruise would have been enough but I decided I wanted to do something different. I wanted to do something fun and new. So I went parasailing in Key West, a first for me. And, I went horseback riding in Cozumel, something I hadn’t done since elementary school!

I had several wonderful experiences that I would have never had if I had stayed comfortably in my comfort zone. I ventured out and had a blast. None of my family went parasailing but several went horseback riding. We created some wonderful memories that day!

Summer is upon us. We have warm weather and the longest days of the year to look forward to. The kids are out of school, vacations are scheduled and beaches, amusement parks, and lakes abound. Enjoy this time. Take advantage of this time. Be comfortable but also do something that takes you out of that comfort zone.

Jet ski, go the mountains instead of the beach or the beach instead of the mountains, take a day trip or a weekend excursion to some place you’ve always wanted to visit but never got around to, sing karaoke. Do something new, do something different, do something you haven’t done since childhood!

Do something!

To the Black Sheeps and the Square Pegs

I have a much younger sister. In fact, she recently just turned 16, I remember her, as a child, getting mad at me about something and shouting, “You’re not my friend!” I guess it was designed to hurt my feelings; but it didn’t. Ever the coach (even before I was a coach), I felt this was a great opportunity to teach a life lesson. I smiled broadly and calmly told her, “No, I’m not your friend. I’m your family. You get to choose your friends. You don’t get to choose your family.”

It’s true. The great thing about friendships is that you can make friends with people who share your interests, laugh at the same jokes and basically people who ‘get you.’ Sometimes your family does and other times … well, they mean well.

I am the creative, strong-willed free-spirit of my family. The black sheep. The square peg that will never ever fit into the round hole (or even want to fit for that matter). If it wasn’t for the fact that I look just like them, I’d wonder, if maybe, I’d been switched at birth. My family likes structure, they like the tangible and sticking with what they know. You get a job and you stay there … with any luck until you retire. You do something that can be easily explained in one word: teach, nurse, sell. Me? Well my one words: coach, writer, bon vivant, are inevitably followed by questions. Most commonly, “So what is it exactly that you do?” And the one that comes immediately after that one, “And, you get paid to do that?”

Over the years, I’ve spent sentences, paragraphs, pages, chapters and books trying to explain things like, why I felt the need to move to California to pursue a screenwriting dream, or why I didn’t just want to teach or nurse (I had a job in a nursing home one day in college. It lasted one day; I didn’t even take the paperwork back so I could get paid).

I still don’t think they get it. At this point, I don’t think they ever will. But they accept it. And so do I. Last year, we went on a family reunion cruise. I convinced a bunch of relatives to come with me on a horseback riding tour in Cozumel. To my surprise, a lot of my family took me up on that offer (not so much with the parasailing!).

As we rode, my horse, whenever possible, would veer off the path, taking his own little side trips and diversions. My stepmother laughed, “It looks like you got the right horse!”

The great thing about family is that you don’t get to choose them but you love them and hopefully, learn to accept them just as they are, and they do the same for you. Teaching you little lessons about patience and tolerance and appreciation along the way.

Memories

I grew up with Michael Jackson. I remember watching the Jackson 5 cartoon on Sunday morning, singing Rockin’ Robin and ABC with my cousins. One of the first albums I ever bought was Off the Wall. And, of course, there is Thriller.

A few months ago, my friend Cindy stopped and the movie 13 Going on 30 was on. Jennifer Garner’s character, who went from 13 to 30 overnight, needed to get a boring party started. In the movie’s most memorable scene, she gets the DJ to play Thriller and then stands in the middle of the dance floor by herself and begins to do those legendary zombie moves. The whole crowd joins in.

Cindy (who’s about 6 years younger than me) balked. She said, “Like all of those people would remember that dance.” Without saying a word, I got up and did it with them, that is how influential that dance, that video and that album are to people my age. Yes, Cindy, we do know it. We still know it!!

I remember loving MTV but never seeing any black artist’s videos. It was Michael Jackson who broke that color barrier with the iconic Billie Jean video. I could go on — the Motown 25 performance (that introduced the moonwalk), the Bad and Beat It videos, the one glove, the fact that boys with jheri curls and Thriller jackets were once thought to be good catches, all part of my best memories.

I still love the Jackson 5, Off the Wall, Thriller and even most of the work he did through the 90’s (Man in the Mirror, Remember the Time, Keep it in the Closet to name a few). Unfortunately, I had to watch with horror as his golden image was tarnished by an eerie physical transformation; increasingly bizarre behaviors (remember the oxygen chamber, Bubbles the Chimp and the shear nuttiness that was Neverland), and worse of all, the allegations of sexual abuse and unsettling sleeping arrangements with young boys.

When I was 15, my mother died. As she succumbed to a multitude of diabetic complications, I watched her become weak and frail, a shadow of the dynamic woman who raised me. Yet I choose to remember her as the strong, intelligent and vibrant force that she was for the majority of her life. And so it will be with Michael. I will remember the wonderful memories that he will always be a part of and when I think of him, I will smile.

Farrah Fawcett also died yesterday. As a child of the 70’s almost every boy I knew had that poster of her in the red swimsuit. But she really came to life for me, as Jill one of the original Charlie’s Angels. She will always be a part of one of my fondest Christmas memories. I will never forget running down the stairs and seeing my Charlie’s Angels action figures. LOL!

Farrah reinvented herself in the 80’s courtesy of the television movie, The Burning Bed. She showed that she was more than a pretty face (and incredible hair), she could act too. In this last year of her life, she reinvented herself again as one of the many courageous faces of cancer. She gave us all a gritty and unflinching glimpse into her fight against this disease. Beautiful, bold and brave is how I will remember her.