I wasn't going to write this today, since it's 11:30pm, but I just can't get it out of my head. I know I won't be able to sleep until I get it out. Today was father's day and it's not a day I was necessarily looking forward to. My father and I are not close and have always had a pretty strained relationship. I haven't seen him since Christmas and haven't talked to him since Easter. To say I don't enjoy his company would be an understatement. But, I also have a step-father, who I wouldn't say I'm close to, but I have a very deep respect for. He married my mother when I was just five years old and my brother was eight. He's been the father for us that our "real" father was never willing or able to be. If I'd had it my way, he would have walked me down the aisle at my wedding, but that wasn't a fight I wanted to have, so he walked me halfway (which still resulted in a fight I didn't want to have). He's been there for my family and he's stepped up to the plate more than he needed to. And he's been through a lot in his life. This year, though was the first year I also had a father-in-law (technically the second, but we were on our honeymoon for father's day last year). I was annoyed that there were three men I had to work into my schedule today. It was a chore and took the joy out of seeing my family. So, I made plans to see my father yesterday and we had lunch and it was as painless as it could be. And today, my husband and I went to my parents house around 2pm. My step-father has been going through chemotherapy for the last three weeks to treat bladder cancer. He was diagnosed a couple years ago, but surgery was done and we thought it was being held at bay. He went in for a routine check-up in May and the news wasn't good. The cancer had spread and he'd need chemotherapy before removing the bladder completely. My family doesn't cry (at least not in front of each other), so we all held it together (I broke down that night by myself...) and parted ways. He hasn't been dealing well with it, though from what I've heard. He shaved his head a few weeks ago, which was a huge step. He's always had a gorgeous head of salt and pepper hair, no receding hairline, no balding. Now, he's going to lose it. And I keep saying that it's only hair and that it'll grow back, but it's still strange to see. Admittedly, though it didn't look as strange as I thought it would. He looks good with a buzz cut.
So, naturally, this year, it was important to me to see him. It put life in perspective for all of us, I believe and while he's likely to survive this cancer, it still makes you realize that life is fragile. And today it was proven to me over and over again. First thing this morning, I saw a notification on Facebook that a good friend of ours was in a motorcycle accident early this morning. He hit a deer and was in the hospital with a broken wrist and some serious road rash. By all accounts, the injuries are not nearly as bad as they could be, but still, how scary. I checked my Facebook page throughout the day, keeping tabs on him and wondering how he was making out. He'll be okay, but it was scary nonetheless. This was all running through my head as I gave my step-father the hair clippers he asked for for father's day. Clippers to shave his head completely, since it has started to fall out. He's in denial that it needs to be shaved bald and insists on shaving it just shorter than it was, but it's a process he needs to go through and that's understood.
We spent a few hours with my parents before heading to my in-law's. Every year they have a big father's day picnic with aunts and uncles and cousins, etc. It's a big deal. And I somehow always forget about my husband's cousin who has been sick since birth. I'm not entirely sure what is wrong with this boy, who I believe is about twelve years old now, but he's always had a limp and one leg has always been grossly shorter than the other. From what I remember hearing over the years, he'd had many extensive surgeries to try and stretch the other leg, but I guess that stopped being reasonable once he started growing more. How many times can you operate on the same leg? So, today I was surprised to see him walking around with a prosthetic leg. I had a vague memory of hearing that he was going to lose his foot, but I'd never gotten the details. And I never remember hearing this child complain about the deal he was dealt. Today, I saw him playing with the other children and even swimming with the prosthetic leg. He seems to still be getting used to it, but it was amazing to see such a young child dealing with something so huge. He was all smiles and laughter as he mingled with my soon to be brother-in-law's little sister and I was once again in awe of this strong boy. He never says a word about, he never makes a fuss about it and I've never heard him once get frustrated with it. Now, I only see him three or four times a year, but I've known him for almost his entire life and I've never heard him waver. He's incredible and he's sweet as can be and every time I see him it puts my entire life into perspective. On my worst day, it's never been as bad as his best. I've dealt with loss and I've dealt with fear, but I've never really dealt with personal difficulties. I've never had a personal injury or personal issue to overcome. My life's been pretty easy, by most accounts. And seeing him handle things so well immediately makes me annoyed with myself for thinking that anything is a big deal. So what if money is tight this month? So what if Ryan isn't home as much as I'd like him to be? So what that my career isn't where I want it to be? So what that my best friend lives two hours away? I've got my health. And I'm sitting in the comfort of my own home, that I own, with my husband, whom I've been with since high school. There is nothing wrong with me. There is nothing wrong with my husband. Our life is pretty damn good. And it's sad that it took a twelve-year-old to make me realize that.
These are three separate issues that, looked at singly maybe would not have resonated as much with me. If our friend had gotten in this accident on a different day, it still would have mattered and we still would have worried, but maybe it wouldn't have hit such a nerve if it hadn't happened on the same day that I watched my step-dad's eyes light up after receiving a gift he's never needed before. Maybe it wouldn't have scared me as much if it wasn't on the same day I saw my husband's twelve-year-old cousin with a prosthetic leg for the first time. The magnitude of all three of these events didn't really seem to hit me as much until I saw them all happen in the same day. People get in accidents all the time. People get cancer all the time. And people lose limbs all the time, for many reasons. But, when I see them all in the same day, to people I care about, it changes things for me. It's frustrating that it takes things like this to make me realize how great things are and how lucky I am. But, it's pretty incredible that all three of these people have inspired me in ways they might never understand.
Sunday, June 17, 2012
Thursday, June 14, 2012
Where Can We Go to Get Away?
I'm kind of at a point in my life where I'm just over people. Maybe I'm too young for that to be the case already, maybe I'm just someone with a short fuse, or maybe I just live in the wrong area. Whatever the reason, I can't seem to wrap my mind around how self-absorbed most people are. I spent most of my life in Plymouth Meeting, PA, which I absolutely loved. When I was little, I always thought I lived in this tiny little town where everyone knew everybody. That wasn't necessarily the case. All the neighbors knew each other and all the kids that went to school together knew each other. That was far from the whole town, though. And as I got older, the town got more commercialized and more populated and people seemed to get ruder and ruder. Or maybe, I just got more skeptical and less innocent. I now live about seven miles outside of Plymouth Meeting, which is far from being on the other side of the world, but at first, it was far enough. When I first moved here, people seemed nicer. I distinctly remember two different people holding the door open for me in the same restaurant and telling my parents how it was strange that I didn't know how to react to people being so nice. My mother seemed to agree that people were nicer "up here." And now, when we go back to Plymouth Meeting, it's equal parts hilarious and unsettling to hear the obscenities that come out of my mother's mouth. It almost feels more like a city there than the tiny town I thought I grew up in. Driving through it is a nightmare and the traffic alone fuels my rage. I always blamed it on the fact that it was a nicer area and there were some people that were pretty well-off and were out of touch with reality, but it seems to be an epidemic.
This past weekend, my husband and I took a trip to Baltimore, Maryland. Our trip started out a few miles outside of Baltimore and we did sort of notice that the people seemed nicer. We weren't as annoyed with people, but we could just chalk that up to the fact that we were somewhere different and on vacation. Quickly upon entering the actual city, though, we immediately felt "at home." We're not city people, so driving through Baltimore alone was a nuisance. But, the first night wasn't too bad; mostly because all we did was sleep in our hotel room. The next day was a different story. We took a trip to the inner harbor, where neither of us has ever been (at least that we can remember). We'd heard how much there was to do and how much fun everything was, so we were excited to get started.
Our first stop was the Baltimore Aquarium, somewhere I'd always wanted to go, since I'd heard so much about it. Immediately upon arrival, a busload of children were let out...a field trip. Typical. This would not have been such a big deal if it didn't seem like everyone else in the world was at this aquarium on that particular day. Which seemed strange, since it was a Monday and most kids were still in school. But, it seems like no one cares anymore about other people. No one cared that we were at that exhibit first or that I was trying to take a picture. No one cares that there are a hundred other people waiting to see the exhibit behind them. They're taking their time, seemingly intentionally forming a roadblock in front of the exhibit so no one else can get by. They're shouting to their family members to come check it out and see how cool it is. They're taking dozens of pictures of the same creatures. What gives? Can't I see it? I paid a lot of money to come here, as well as you. Do I get a turn? We ended up skipping much of the aquarium, because the crowds got too annoying, the lines got too long and the patrons got too rude. At one point, I tried to take a picture of my husband standing next to a giant shark's mouth, because I thought it was cool how big it was. I took one picture and the flash didn't go off, so I tried to take another one. He was uncomfortable, though since there were people behind me waiting to look at it and he put the kibosh on the picture. That's kind of how it should be, but I was instantly annoyed with him that he didn't give me my chance to be rude. People had been pushing and shoving me and making me wait all day and I can't get ten seconds to take a picture? How is that fair?
So, we quickly realized that the inner harbor is still too "city" for us, but made the best of it anyway. It was nice to get away from home, even just for a short time and it was cool to see something different for a change. We came home Monday night and went out to dinner Tuesday night in our hometown-Plymouth Meeting. Maybe it's because we were back there, or maybe it's just because it's typical, but we left there angry as well. We walked into the restaurant and stood at the podium waiting to be seated. There was one person in front of us, who was seated quickly and then the hostess never returned. We waited roughly ten minutes, as it was obvious that the girl was new and learning the ropes; we were patient. Suddenly, a woman walks in the door at the exact instant that someone finally returns to the podium, walks right past us, says "booth for two" and gets seated immediately. My husband and I instantly look at each other and say in perfect unison "that just happened." We weren't even out of the way! We were standing just inside the door, directly in front of the podium. It was obvious we were waiting to be seated. We were more than a little angry and complained about it all through dinner. By this point we were fed up with being ignored. Were we invisible to everyone but each other? What goes through someone's mind before they do something like that? Why does everyone seem to think they rule the world and they can do whatever they want? When did other peoples' feelings stop mattering?
I wish I could say that this was true mostly of strangers, but I see it constantly in my own family as well. It's more difficult when you're married to make time for everyone. Every holiday needs to be split two ways and since my parents are divorced, ours need to be split three ways. Christmas needs to include my mom & step-dad, my dad and my in-laws. Same with Thanksgiving and Easter. Mother's Day and Father's Day. Birthdays, anniversaries. No one seems to care that there's another side of the family to deal with. No one seems to care that there are other people to consider. Work it into your schedule or forever feel guilty. And it takes away the fun of all of it. It takes away the joy of seeing family and being together. It turns into an obligation and a punishment instead of a nice family get together. Don't get me wrong; I love my family. But, sometimes I wish it was just my husband and I and on one else. Sometimes I wish we could just run away without telling anyone where we're going. I'd love to own a secluded mountain house someday where I can runaway and spend my weekends with a fire and a good book. My heart skips a beat just thinking about it. But, I'm not like everyone else. I can't just put the feelings of everyone else aside to focus on my own feelings. Where does that come from, since it's obvious that's not true for anyone else. How did we end up to be such nice people when we're surrounded by such selfishness? And where can we go to get away from it?
I just told my husband tonight that being a writer is the perfect career for me. Just me and my computer and no one else. The only other people that exist are the characters I make up in whatever story I'm working on. It's a career for recluses and that's exactly what I'd like to be. I don't like to be around people. And it's not at all because I'm anti-social. It's because people don't make themselves someone that other people want to be around. And that's kind of a bummer to me...
This past weekend, my husband and I took a trip to Baltimore, Maryland. Our trip started out a few miles outside of Baltimore and we did sort of notice that the people seemed nicer. We weren't as annoyed with people, but we could just chalk that up to the fact that we were somewhere different and on vacation. Quickly upon entering the actual city, though, we immediately felt "at home." We're not city people, so driving through Baltimore alone was a nuisance. But, the first night wasn't too bad; mostly because all we did was sleep in our hotel room. The next day was a different story. We took a trip to the inner harbor, where neither of us has ever been (at least that we can remember). We'd heard how much there was to do and how much fun everything was, so we were excited to get started.
Our first stop was the Baltimore Aquarium, somewhere I'd always wanted to go, since I'd heard so much about it. Immediately upon arrival, a busload of children were let out...a field trip. Typical. This would not have been such a big deal if it didn't seem like everyone else in the world was at this aquarium on that particular day. Which seemed strange, since it was a Monday and most kids were still in school. But, it seems like no one cares anymore about other people. No one cared that we were at that exhibit first or that I was trying to take a picture. No one cares that there are a hundred other people waiting to see the exhibit behind them. They're taking their time, seemingly intentionally forming a roadblock in front of the exhibit so no one else can get by. They're shouting to their family members to come check it out and see how cool it is. They're taking dozens of pictures of the same creatures. What gives? Can't I see it? I paid a lot of money to come here, as well as you. Do I get a turn? We ended up skipping much of the aquarium, because the crowds got too annoying, the lines got too long and the patrons got too rude. At one point, I tried to take a picture of my husband standing next to a giant shark's mouth, because I thought it was cool how big it was. I took one picture and the flash didn't go off, so I tried to take another one. He was uncomfortable, though since there were people behind me waiting to look at it and he put the kibosh on the picture. That's kind of how it should be, but I was instantly annoyed with him that he didn't give me my chance to be rude. People had been pushing and shoving me and making me wait all day and I can't get ten seconds to take a picture? How is that fair?
So, we quickly realized that the inner harbor is still too "city" for us, but made the best of it anyway. It was nice to get away from home, even just for a short time and it was cool to see something different for a change. We came home Monday night and went out to dinner Tuesday night in our hometown-Plymouth Meeting. Maybe it's because we were back there, or maybe it's just because it's typical, but we left there angry as well. We walked into the restaurant and stood at the podium waiting to be seated. There was one person in front of us, who was seated quickly and then the hostess never returned. We waited roughly ten minutes, as it was obvious that the girl was new and learning the ropes; we were patient. Suddenly, a woman walks in the door at the exact instant that someone finally returns to the podium, walks right past us, says "booth for two" and gets seated immediately. My husband and I instantly look at each other and say in perfect unison "that just happened." We weren't even out of the way! We were standing just inside the door, directly in front of the podium. It was obvious we were waiting to be seated. We were more than a little angry and complained about it all through dinner. By this point we were fed up with being ignored. Were we invisible to everyone but each other? What goes through someone's mind before they do something like that? Why does everyone seem to think they rule the world and they can do whatever they want? When did other peoples' feelings stop mattering?
I wish I could say that this was true mostly of strangers, but I see it constantly in my own family as well. It's more difficult when you're married to make time for everyone. Every holiday needs to be split two ways and since my parents are divorced, ours need to be split three ways. Christmas needs to include my mom & step-dad, my dad and my in-laws. Same with Thanksgiving and Easter. Mother's Day and Father's Day. Birthdays, anniversaries. No one seems to care that there's another side of the family to deal with. No one seems to care that there are other people to consider. Work it into your schedule or forever feel guilty. And it takes away the fun of all of it. It takes away the joy of seeing family and being together. It turns into an obligation and a punishment instead of a nice family get together. Don't get me wrong; I love my family. But, sometimes I wish it was just my husband and I and on one else. Sometimes I wish we could just run away without telling anyone where we're going. I'd love to own a secluded mountain house someday where I can runaway and spend my weekends with a fire and a good book. My heart skips a beat just thinking about it. But, I'm not like everyone else. I can't just put the feelings of everyone else aside to focus on my own feelings. Where does that come from, since it's obvious that's not true for anyone else. How did we end up to be such nice people when we're surrounded by such selfishness? And where can we go to get away from it?
I just told my husband tonight that being a writer is the perfect career for me. Just me and my computer and no one else. The only other people that exist are the characters I make up in whatever story I'm working on. It's a career for recluses and that's exactly what I'd like to be. I don't like to be around people. And it's not at all because I'm anti-social. It's because people don't make themselves someone that other people want to be around. And that's kind of a bummer to me...
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