mothers

One of my favorite movies is Mother with Albert Brooks and Debbie Reynolds. It came out in 1996...the year after I became a mother. 

The story centers on Brooks as he returns to his childhood home hoping to understand what went wrong in his relationships with women. What ensues is brilliant comedy between a mother and son. One of my favorite scenes is when Reynolds and Brooks are on the phone and her call waiting interrupts. She attempts to put him on hold only to return to him several times before Brooks asks why she even pays for call waiting. It's a scene those of us with technology-challenged moms relate to and appreciate. Of course I've never had a similar experience with my mom.

If you have your mom into your adult life, changes in them and in your relationship take place. You may hear many of the same stories again and again, and even when you think you can't listen once more, you may begin to find these stories a bit comforting. Topics may include: past family events, disagreements with friends or family members, movie themes, theater revivals, and most likely your childhood.

Moms are usually the only person in the world who can bring the adult you back to the 16 year old you faster than running into your high school boyfriend. They can also be the one to embarrass, humiliate and frustrate you more than anyone. I was at a dinner the other night and two of the guests brought along their mothers. It was fascinating to see how each of the daughters interacted, excused, and reacted to their moms.

Later that night I wondered if I'll embarrass Zach when he's older and I'm older. Then I realized, it's not if it's when, realizing I've already started. So I'll go on record now, I'm sorry for asking too many questions, repeating myself at every opportunity, and just generally bugging you. Know it all comes from a place of love.

I know you've got a good mother story....and I'd love to hear it.

like heaven

It's in one of the busiest neighborhoods of New York City. Through a maze of construction barricades. In and out of open tunnels. And after many security check points, I am pushed out into this open area. It's almost too large to take in. The grass is perfectly mowed. The trees are all lined up, with each similar in size. It feels very controlled.

Until you see the waterfalls. The water first rolls through a metal comb and then pours freely into a pool so deep and peaceful. The pools are massive in size...each surrounded by metal with names in an elegant font. It's the combination of perfect nature and flawless design that makes it look so solid.

This place is peaceful, some call it sacred. It isn't until I raise my eyes and look up only to see massive buildings, that I remember I'm in New York. I haven't been here since December 2001. It makes me proud that an almost indescribable monument is now here forever. Seeing the heaven that was built on hell...

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