It's not about the what, it's about the who.

"I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel." - Maya Angelou

I've always attributed particular songs, scents, sounds and tastes as triggers to certain memories.  I recently transferred my youngest from public school into a Catholic school.  When I walked into the main office of the new school and through the painted cinder block hallways, I was tossed back to the 1970's and flooded with so many memories (both pleasant and unpleasant).  

Like in kindergarten, when I complained to my mother that morning that my stomach was bothering me but was told that I didn't have a fever so I needed to get to school.  And as Murphy's Law never fails, my vomiting escapade began shortly after my kindergarten love interest stepped foot on that bus.  It turned out to be the best, worst day of my life.  As all the young passengers on the bus were running for cover from the meteor shower of Captain Crunch and simultaneously making fun of me, my night and shining armor, Jimbo Rogers rubbed my back until we arrived at school.  He walked me to the main office so I could call my mom away from her soap operas to come get me.  I loved him with all my kindergarten sized heart. 

I caught myself strolling down memory lane cutting through Michael Crowley's yard with my brother crawling under the chain linked fence to get to school on time. Sliding into Sister Mary Kay's class just late enough for me to have to parade in front of Jimmy Rupp and Alex Bayter with the pixie haircut my mother and her ancient old friends said was "cute" because they could "see my pretty eyes". It was the year that I walked around with the constant thought bubble over my head that said, "Well, of course you can see my stinkin' eyes, I HAVE NO HAIR!  It was that year also when I was often mistaken for a boy. As you may have figured already, that would fall under the "not so pleasant" category. 

Today I was listening to the radio and they had some sort of tribute to Freddie Mercury and were playing back to back Queen songs. I had vivid flashbacks to middle school and my first love T.J Sullivan. My first "R" rated movie at The Pine Hollow Movie Theatre, hanging in the graveyard and telling my mother that I was studying at the library as I was walking into Oyster Bay with T.J. to grab a "slice"of pizza.

Speaking of pizza...Any transplant from New Yawk in South Carolina will understand the excitement of a new pizza "parlor" opening up in the hopes that there is one that can replicate the true essence of a good slice. So not only are looking for the perfect replica of the NY delicacy but you also have to find the place that serves it like a New Yawkah!...BY THE SLICE!  And just as I was reminiscing about a "real" pizza place, "Tony from da Bronx" welcomed me with open arms to Bada Bing Pizza...Literally!   AND...he asked me how many slices I wanted!  I'm not kidding when I tell you that he actually brought tears to my eyes.  Right at that moment I had a flashback of great memories from being a kid running into Marios in Pine Hollow or Villa Milano in Manhasset and being greeted by the owners as if they hadn't seen me in years although I was there the day before. The  New Yawk accent, the boisterous Italian personality and congratulatory notes written on dollar bills taped to the oven gave me that warm and fuzzy "New Yawk" feeling.   I know.  It's such an oxymoron but if you ever want to witness an incredible personality transformation right before your eyes?  Talk pizza to a New York transplant in The South.  The first rule is to never act like you know more about the subject than they do.  Quite honestly, it offends them. The only way you qualify for participation in a debate about it, is only if you are from New York.  We don't act like experts on biscuit, grits or "dressing" (aka "stuffing") so we just ask for the same respect.  In any case, if you ask a native New Yawkah to tell you about their favorite slice of pizza like they are the expert, you will watch that tough guy/girl attitude disappear and the result will be a warm and fuzzy New Yorker.

I'm sure anybody who isn't from New York is probably scratching their heads wondering why I'm making such a big deal about pizza. Some of my greatest childhood memories are from a pizza parlor or my favorite deli...bagel shoppe too. Oh my goodness...AND I can't forget to mention the special family trips to Carvel in my parent's 1972 Caddy with Englebert Humperdink playing on the 8-track!  I am certain there are a several people shaking their heads in agreement as their mouths water for Tom Carvel's Fudgie The Whale or Cookie Puss Cakes. 

But the memories that I once thought were a direct result of a bad haircut, a vomiting roadshow, an R rated movie, or the food I grew up on, I realize that those things made up only part of the picture. As I have grown older, I realize that its more about the rituals and the experiences surrounding it. It's about the people and how they make you feel when you walk into their establishment.  Its the warm feeling knowing that their job goes above and beyond their pizza or their roast beef hero or the everything bagel with cream cheese,  lightly toasted.  It's the difference between a Wednesday and a Sunday or where "Wednesday IS Sundae" but only at Carvel. 

It's the people who are encountered within the experience who actually make it or break it for others. And as this stroll down memory lane comes to an end, I need to share the status of a FB friend referring to a recent visit to his Dad in the hospital.  I am not certain of the circumstances but regardless...any trip to the hospital is stressful when it's your parent. 

He described being on a hospital elevator with a Mother and her, 8 or 9 year old daughter who appeared to have had Downs Syndrome. Her mother had asked if she could push number seven. In an effort to wanting to make her feel “special” not in the derogatory sense, he asked her to push the button to his floor. As he described it, she stepped back after pushing the button and turned towards him as he expressed how much he despised hospitals in the thought bubble over his head.  Simultaneously, the little girl walked up to him, gently took his hand, looked him square in the eye and said: “I am sorry. Are You O.K.?”  Taken by surprise, he promptly thanked her and let her know that he was fine and they left as the doors of the elevator opened to the 7th floor.  He recognized his "petty attempt at kindness" and how (according to him) was un-expectantly given back to him "a trillion fold".  He described the "SHEER PURITY and INNOCENCE" in that beautiful child's gesture and contributed it to the "Presence of GOD (Whoever or Whatever HE/SHE/IT)"...for the first time in his life. 

This child's gesture actually made a full grown man who was doubting the Presence of God actually feel it for the first time ever!  Powerful, right?  I don't care what your beliefs are. This isn't a come to Jesus blog.  This is an acknowledgement of the difference people can make.   It's funny because whether I was an unassuming kid, an invincible teenager, a confident collegiate or a self absorbed Wall Street wife, I always attributed the feeling I got to a haircut, a song, a movie or a slice but after going through some trying times and ultimately "growing up", I now realize that the common denominators in all of my experiences really is the interaction between me and the people I encounter.

How we treat others has a direct correlation to how we are treated.  Good, bad or ugly...how we are treated is what creates memories. So whether you are at school, work, at a baseball game, on a bus, in an elevator or at a party, remember the New Yawker who melts when you talk pizza. Make it about others and not always about yourself. What I've learned is that, if one is vigilant in heart warming efforts, it eventually becomes habit and ultimately may make this crazy, inexplicable world a better place. 

Don’t Forget to Breathe

Inhale...

It's been awhile since I've written anything for my blog. Life has been busy between one kid’s mysterious autoimmune disease, one's concussion and eye ticks and one eleven year old's incessant aspiration of landing that big acting role!!  Oh, and did I mention the full time job and then just dealing with everyday life?
 
However, the chaos of it all was pleasantly interrupted by an email from an old neighbor, Colette who wanted to let me know how much she admired me.  She sent me a "Warrior Award" via Facebook and told me to pass it on to ten people I truly admired for the challenges that they have faced and adversity that they deal with on a daily basis or have already overcome. I usually don't partake in  things like that however it was a message that made me feel good and I thought that it would be a good opportunity for me to pay it forward.  My friend Loren came to mind immediately and I promptly sent out the same message to her.  Our friendship began as an acquaintance via an introduction through another friend back when I lived in New York.  But she is one of those people who I just had an instant connection with the minute I met her.  I consider her a warrior because she carries herself with such grace as she deals with the daily challenge of caring for her autistic son.  Her optimism, humility and humor are what make her shine.  And honestly, up until receiving the uplifting message of my induction into warrior status, I never had the opportunity to tell her that.
 
After carefully choosing my warriors, I had the pleasant surprise of receiving a message from my graceful, optimistic, humble and funny friend, Loren.  She had invited me to be part of an online group called “Fav Ladies” which she had just created.  The “Fav Ladies” is a group of women who Loren described as "getting it". You know those who really cut through the bullshit of life. Tactfully tell it like it is and at the end of the day aren't afraid to show people who they are even at their most vulnerable moments.
 
The invitation really couldn’t have come at a better time.  Between my kid’s illnesses and learning disabilities, standard demands of work and the management of everyday life, things have been exceptionally stressful.  Loren's invitation to her group of "normal" women was a timely relief since lately I've been feeling like I've been manning this dysfunctional ship alone.  I am partly to blame as I have a tendency to wear my "I'm too proud pants" and shut certain people out.  But Loren’s invitation really snapped me out of the funk that I have been in.

It has only been a few days since I have been part of this brilliant online club where the only dues are to let your guard down and get real.  Women share pictures of their families, their kids’ art work, inspirational quotes and a variety of personal stories ranging from their struggles with aging, menopause, addiction, weight gain.  It serves as a platform for suggestions/advice, open discussion, supportive comments and expressions of inspiration and admiration.

One woman Leslie described the unthinkable loss of her baby boy who succumbed to a grueling 10 month battle with brain cancer.  It was at that moment when I decided to cancel the pity party I had been having for myself.  She started her post with the word “Inhale” insinuating how painful the story that she was about to tell was going to be.  She told us about the day she had first met Loren and was asked how many children she had.  She ended her entry with the word “Exhale” indicating the relief of finishing the story of  dealing with horror of the real world without her first born.  I could feel how raw her wounds were and was pained yet grateful for her transparency.  I realized that experiences that painful literally require living one breath at a time and that there are no coincidences as to who is placed in our daily paths. And just as we question if we'll ever be able to breathe again freely, people like these “Warriors” or “Fav Ladies” are placed in our lives to aid us in our breathing when we just can't find the strength to release and exhale or buck up and inhale.

Lately, I have been struggling with my own breathing and I honestly believe that if it weren’t for my induction into the Warrior Hall of Fame by Colette, I would not have crossed paths with Loren or Leslie or any of the other “Fav Ladies” who gave me the oxygen I needed.  I am happy to report that my I am breathing easier today as a result of the paths I have crossed this week and when I breathe easier, I am a much more fun, compassionate and supportive person to be around.  So Colette, Loren and Leslie, thank you!  And I can assure you that my family is just as grateful.  I haven’t been the easiest person to live with lately. 

Exhale...

Forever changed...

Today, I reflect on that tragic day 12 years ago when the World was forever changed. Even after so much time, the wounds are still raw. Remember those who have lost their lives, those who have lost their loved ones, the heroes who gave their all and all the lives that have been forever changed by such a senseless act of terrorism.

Robert Scott Batson

July 14, 1968 - September 7, 2013

September 11, 2013 becomes an even more somber day as we lay our friend Scotty Batson to rest. Hearts are heavy in small town SC but the support amongst our friends is enormous. The outpour of love and support that has been given to Kim, Haley, Sammy, David, Terressa and the rest of his family is immense. It is almost as big as Scotty's heart!

Through these tragic events, I have learned that power is in numbers. Keep your family and friends close. Friendship can never be undermined nor underestimated. It should be valued and respected as there are no guarantees in life.

Find comfort in knowing that Scott cherished his family and friends and never missed the opportunity to tell anyone that. He boasted about his beautiful wife, Kim and his two beautiful girls, his brother David and his family, his parents and friends.  He lived life to the fullest and embraced every ounce of what was good in life and even managed to find good in the bad.

He was talented in many areas but for me, his greatest claim to fame was his ability to master life through his love, laughter, kindness, compassion and his genuine interest in other people. And much to our dismay, I'm thinking that maybe his work was done here on Earth. To be honest, it is the only way that I can find comfort in his passing. In fact, Yegge and I are convinced that on September 7^th, Heaven was forever changed! We talk about how Scott is most likely playing air guitar with the Angels, taking a Natural Light "roadie" with him as he bounces from one fluffy cloud to the next letting everyone know that he's arrived. He’s bowling and eating bacon, egg and cheese breakfast “samiches” and watching the sun set from a much better place.  And we are certain that Heaven is a much more rockin' place now that Scotty Batson is there!

In Scott's absence here on Earth, let his legacy live on...

Remember to be kinder, more compassionate, make others feel important, love a little more, and laugh a little harder. Embrace what is good in life at all times. Cherish the sun rising and the find joy in a sunset like Scotty did. And please keep The Batson Family and all others who have lost a loved one in your prayers during this difficult time. RIP Scotty and to all those who have passed. ‘Til we meet again...