The reason for living

It makes you re-think your life.  When someone you know dies, it makes you re-think your life. When someone has lived an exemplary life, it should make you question what you will do with your time left. I don't think it matters how young or old you are when confronted with this, except that it's more pressing if you are older.

How much time do you have to make a difference in the lives of your family and friends, and the strangers you encounter in your neighborhood or the ones you never see who are in need of help? It's not about how you'll be remembered after dying, but what you think of yourself before that happens.

I heard the most intensely beautiful remembrances of someone today. Two took my breath away and the others were so deeply personal they painted a complete picture of a person. The solid values his parents instilled, the importance of education and philanthropy in his life, and the career that was golden.

But what took my breath away were the touching examples of him as a husband, father, grandfather, brother and friend. I kept wondering how my life measures up to the passion, thoughtfulness, kindness and care he showed for people. And I came away knowing this will make me re-think my life.

I remember...

It's four days until the 10th anniversary of the day it all changed. Ten years can feel like such a long time ago, but in a moment I can be brought back to that morning.

I can remember every moment of the day and the days to follow.

I remember...dropping Zach at day two of kindergarten.
I remember...walking down Park Avenue to work and thinking the sky never looked this blue.
I remember...my friend Tanya calling to tell me the Trade Center had been hit by a plane.
I remember...not having a radio or CNN newsfeed, and only wanting to watch the Today Show.
I remember...Tanya calling back, now screaming the other Tower was hit by another plane.

I remember...being happy that I hadn't gotten the job at One World Trade Center the year before.

I remember...stepping outside to smoke a cigarette and someone yelled, "the Pentagon has been hit."
I remember...deciding to pick Zach up from school and us going home to be safe.
I remember...being glued to CNN, as Zach watched cartoons in the other room.
I remember...my breath being taken away as the first Tower fell.
I remember...Zach's school receiving bomb threats.
I remember...feeling so anxious of what was going to happen next and when.
I remember...the wind changing, and the smell of downtown lingering on my terrace.
I remember...how I couldn't stop crying and still today cannot think about that day without crying.
I remember...watching this video over and over and feeling unimaginably sad.

But what I want to remember, is the kindness and good I saw in the people of New York. 

In memory everything seems to happen to music.*

I know I'm a creature of habit. As much as a new something or someone can be exciting, I find so much comfort in things and people I've known for a long time. I've worn the same perfume for 20 years...Annick Goutal's Gardenia Passion, and before that either Bal a Versailles or Lumiere. And every now and then, a little Jo Malone thrown in.

Stay with me. I'm bringing up these perfumes, not to show you how limited I am, but because in looking for something this weekend, I stumbled upon an unopened bottle of Lumiere. I sprayed it on and was immediately taken back to my 20s, on a plane to Paris and smelling this fragrance for the first time. It amazes me how scents and sounds produce such vivid memories.

Making out to The Who's Tommy or Jeff Beck's Blow by Blow...if I hear a song now from either, I'm brought right back to high school. I still get why Jeff Beck, but for the life of me cannot figure out why anyone would want to make out to Tommy. Pinball Wizard... maybe we skipped that one. Or, maybe it sounded different back then.

This Labor Day weekend was going to be mine alone, and even maybe a closet or two would get organized. It turned into one of book reading, TV watching and walking Lucy. I think I may have glanced in a closet and thought that it really didn't look so bad after all. I finally read The Help and watched several old movies. By old I mean the 80s. By the 80s I mean the ones with great music. You remember those.

Even though I'm trying to break myself of routines and glamorizing the past, the truth is I feel safe with what I know. But with fall right around the corner, I feel changes coming.

* Tennessee Williams

rose-colored

There's something comforting about seeing elderly couples walk down the street holding hands.  I am in awe of couples that have been married 50 years. Maybe jealous is the correct word. I would need to live to at least 102 to make that happen, and that would mean getting married this year. At this point, I think the likelihood of either is pretty slim.

What I have noticed though is how many couples who were couples in high school, college or just years ago are getting back together. With social networking sites working overtime connecting people with people from their past, marrying your childhood sweetheart seems a bit more commonplace.  If you juxtapose meeting someone new on a dating site like eHarmony, JDate, Match, Chemistry, or Catholic Match, it's a bit like going to the grocery store and looking for what you want...and whom you find attractive, not necessarily about shared interests.

There's no history or no reference of youth. There may be pluses to that, but it seems that when couples from the past reunite or even those couples who have been together for a long time, a rose-colored glasses phenomenon takes place. The extra 15 pounds or laugh lines or bald spot that have occurred over time aren't noticed quite so much. If you're over 45 and not looking like your 25 year old self, and a bit reticent about injectibles, looking back might bring you into the future.

A friend of mine's mother used to say after the announcement of a couple's divorce, "well, they didn't grow up together." Years later I've come to understand her words more fully - the couple's frame of reference is greater, there's a foundation that only happens over time, and there's a better understanding of why your spouse is the way (s)he is, and maybe there's a patience and tolerance that's learned after a few decades together.

with a plop

On the totem pole of life's problems, this one's very low. I am a bit embarrassed to say how disorienting yesterday was for me, but I'm owning it. After coming home through what seemed like one of those rainstorms where you could imagine a flash flood sweeping Park Avenue, I stood in my kitchen drying off. I was going through the mail while waiting for an important call. Oh, and for the record, and just so you understand my reaction, my cell number was the only number I gave to this person to call me.

PLOP

Before I knew it my Blackberry fell in Lucy's water bowl. Seriously? The accuracy of it surprised me. She's a 10 pound dog with a small bowl. I grabbed it out of the water - all the while cursing like I can do on occasion - took the back off, pulled out the battery and sim card, put it on a towel, turned it over, got out the blow dryer, and prayed.

After giving the device a blow dry, I prayed again (now thinking maybe the Tea Party has had a serious effect on me), put the battery in and waited for the connection to happen. It charged up, powered on, message markers blinked, it even vibrated with voicemails. But the keyboard wasn't responding. More drying and I even put the Blackberry in a ziplock with one of those moisture remover packets overnight.

Here's the kicker - I woke up several times during the night expecting to see my Blackberry charging on my bedside table. I never realized how many times I wake up to check it. What could possibly be sent to me in the middle of the night that I need to wake up and put on my glasses to read? I think I have a problem.

The withdrawal continued throughout the next day, until I was able to go to Verizon. Pleasantly surprised that I bought the insurance, the salesman told me to call the insurance company and they'd overnight me a new Blackberry. One more night of waking up to no emails, texts, BBMS or voicemails, but I found I slept through the night. I actually had a great night sleep.

Fast forward to the next day, today, and the phone arrives. I set it up, which took a little time since it's a newer model and unfortunately I didn't have all my information backed up. Mostly just had to recreate my BBM list. Tonight, as it all seems to be be back to normal, I had a thought: should I leave it out of the bedroom permanently?