chapter XVII

New Sensation

I like lists.  I LIVE for lists.  Most of my lists are in Excel.  I also live for Excel.  Recently I came across an old Excel file that had notes on things I'd experienced that were BIG.  We are talking major sensations.  Memories.  Things you re-tell at a bar over a great bottle of wine.  Some of which I never want to experience again, and others which I hope to get to again.  Here is what I found:

• Singing on stage in front of several hundred people.  College. 
• Winning a crew race where we were at least two boats behind, dead in the water, the odds on loser and yet...we WON.  We WON.  Man did that feel good.
• Getting stuck under a raft in a moving river.  In Chile. 
• Realizing at mile 13 that yes, I was going to finish that marathon.
• Opening a mailbox to find that big envelope that you know says "you are in"
• Rock climbing a perfectly vertical and seemingly perfectly smooth (i.e. nothing to grab) rock wall...and then falling.  Was on belay.  And apparently the instructor's object was to push us until we "fell"...never before have I been so in the moment.
• Being told "You are no longer employed by this company" (Thank God, a near miss...was re-hired 6 hours later into a new role.  But oh, the drama of post-9/11 job cuts.)
• Getting a tattoo (I consider this Big.  It will be with me forever.  I'd pondered it for years)
• Seeing Paul McCartney...EATING DINNER TWO TABLES FROM US. Cheesy, perhaps.  But you know you would stare too.  I saw a Beatle.
• Speaking to someone in the moment of death
• Fear for my life
• Looking down the aisle :-)
• Labor pains...let's all take a moment.

OK

• It's a girl
• It's a boy

Notes on a Birthday

Another year gone by.  I always find myself a little melancholy on my birthday.  Not really because I am older; rather, because I am so darn sentimental that marking time generally makes me a little happy and sad and amazed and frightened and hopeful and, well, you know.

I had a lot of thoughts today.  Jotted them down as the day went on.  In no particular order:

• Starting a new year heading to Times Square two days after a seemingly legit bomb scare is not a feeling I will ever get used to. I know we all expect something to happen, but heading into the storm with a child several miles away is unsettling. But we plod on.
• Here Comes the Sun by George Harrison always reminds me of my mother.
• My dad used to call me late in the day on my birthday. 
• As much as I like my job, right now I wish I were sitting on a bench on the Highline, watching boats go by on the Hudson, drinking Laurent Perrier Rose champagne (out of a paper bag) watching people go by.  Thinking about the book I might write someday.  That is how I should be spending my birthday.
• Well, I am 38 and still no sign of my Grammy.
• I read something interesting today - just a one liner but it was "People should pry more."  I think this is so true.  Ask ask ask your friends family etc. how they are, what they are thinking about, what matters to them, how you can play a part.  And listen to the answers.  Get under the surface.  If you don't, well then you are just skimming and relationships are not built on skimming. 
• TAXES.  What would our lives be like if there were a tax on emails?
• A couple of close friends forgot to call me today.  So I sent them calendar invites to my birthday, recurring forever.  I got a kick out of my old self.
• Do you remember what was important to you (i.e. what you worried about) ten years ago?  I don't really.  I guess that means everything turned out ok.  That is a lesson for right now and ten years from now.

I spent a wonderful weekend with family, this evening with my husband and got a real "Happy Birthday, Mommy!" from Avery.  It does not get any better.  :-)

Letter to a Granddaughter

Sometimes I wonder why I am still awake. 

Right about now, 12:34AM, was my father's favorite time of day, other than dusk.  He was a night-owl.  I get it from him.  And he used to love staying up late to chat.  So perhaps now he wants to chat from the grave, as they say.

If he were alive at this moment, he would provide me with several snippets of wisdom and memories that he'd want passed to his granddaughter. 

Dearest Avery,

I used to call your mother "Minny" when she would call on the phone. I would say in a big voice "hello, Minny!"  I used to call your grandmother "Duck" and she returned the favor.  These are fun little things you should know.  Terms of endearment.

Always listen to your music a little (or a lot!) louder than your parents like - but none of that tinkle music crap (no Vivaldi, no Harry Connick) go for the good stuff - Schuman, Sinatra, Ella.  If these names are not familiar, ask your mother.  I shamelessly bought her CDs until the day I died and she better still have them!

Eat chocolate every day...DARK chocolate.  Milk chocolate is for the birds.

When you start at a new school or a new job, ignore everything people tell you about themselves in the first month - all lies!  The truth comes out later.  And then you should pick your friends.

Don't worry so much.  If you do worry, don't worry about that either as you cannot help it.  It's in your Finnish and Irish blood.  Just do as the Brits say and "Keep Calm and Carry On"

Watch as many black and white movies as you can. 

Give your father a big hug every day and call him as often as you can.

Give boys a break when you are a teenager.  Boys are stupid but usually nice and just cannot help themselves.  Be patient with them.

Go to church.  If you don't understand why, keep going. (and make sure your mother and father go too)

Martinis are good.  Vodka straight up.  No ice.  Extra olives.  Save this piece of advice until you are of age (18).

Go to Paris.  It was my favorite city - Oh Paris!  Try to live there. 

Take piano lessons!

When you like something, buy at least two.  If you really like something, consider starting a collection.

Appreciate the beauty of sour cherries.

Good friends are not always the people you talk to most often.  Sometimes there are people you talk to infrequently, but it's as if you are picking up mid-comma.  These are great friends.

I am more interested in your editorials than your headlines. 

Avoid Repubicans.

Gray is a fantastic color.  Brown is hideous.

Remember where you come from.

Be nice to everyone on the way up, because you will certainly meet them on the way down!

Always have a good TV and pay attention to what's on.  Your parents are certain to disagree with this but I loved TV and know better than they.

Whenever you visit a restaurant, be sure to grab as many of their cards as you can.  They make fabulous bookmarks.

You should know that the day I baptized you I was not in good shape.  Things were going down hill fast, as they say.  But the MOMENT I baptized you it all lifted.  No pain, no weakness, only strength and the peace of God himself came through me. 

Always order dessert.  The chocolate dessert.

Love, your Grandfather

p.s. I am certain there is more to come on this later...not sure this is kylie or dad speaking.

A Gift and Music Memories

A gift arrived today.  A gift from ABOVE...yes.  Yes, my friends, our upstairs neighbors dropped off a gift (really a loan) that will solve all the world's problems.  The gift is called:

What To Expect: The Toddler Years

Finally, a manual.  Because we are slacker parents, we immediately noticed that we are 346 pages behind already in the book.  We gave up reading after Avery turned 1, feeling glib, and well, have been slowly sliding into a sea of toddler induced chaos.  But now, a manual.  We are saved.

But this is not a post about parenting (not needed!  we now have a manual!).  This is a post about memories.  Music induced memories.  On my way to work this morning I was flipping through my iTouch and as I listened it was like many scenes from my life were scrolling by.  So I thought I would make note of it for the future, whenever I might want to take a trip back in time.  Here goes:

Goin' Back To Cali, LL Cool J: flashed back to 2008 on a flight to - you guessed it - California where I was sitting 2 rows back from the Man himself, Mr. LL.  Oh yes.  At the end of the flight I told him that thanks to him I had been singing Goin Back to Cali the whole 5 hours.  He was amused.  And shorter than you would think.  But just dreamy, in general.

American Boy, Estelle and Kanye West: Watching the 2009 Grammys with my mom.

City of Blinding Lights, U2: Going for a run in LA in 2005 when my husband, then boyfriend, was working on the Crescent Beverly Hills (sweet little hotel).  Had a great run.  Felt like I was in a Gatorade commercial.

Blow Your Mind, Jamiroquai: Summer, London 1993.  My first experience really living in a city.  And wow did we jump right in.  I was there working in Estee Lauder's London office for the summer and my parents had to drag me back (there is a full post to be done about that summer).  But a friend's boss was dating a member of the band, and she said, "You know, I think these guys are going to be a hit."  Oh London.  Such fond memories.  The summer I discovered platform shoes, how to get into a club by skipping the line, that the English really do cover everything with cream and that the word "Brilliant!" really is, well, brilliant.  We saw every show, we danced on tables, I think we worked at our respective internships, we partied very briefly with Kate Moss and we drank champagne in the Kensington Gardens.  I could go on.  I will stop here...

U Know What's Up, Donell Jones: Summer 2000, working at 360HipHop.  By FAR the best job I have ever had.  Where else might you run into Ice Cube on your way to refill your coffee?

I Remember You, Skid Row: 1989!!  High School!  OH, the hair, the men in tights, the white boots and tiny skirts of the pom squad.  Those were the days. 

SOS, Rihanna: 2006, our wedding.  We had a strategy for music - no slow songs, a dance floor slightly too small to make it feel like a packed party, and we dictated the first five songs to ensure everyone was dancing.  This was the winner, SOS.  Even the old ladies were boogy-ing down.  Future brides, take note - NO SLOW SONGS.  Total wedding dancing buzz kill!  And I tell ya, that floor was rocking the whole night.  Worked for us, or maybe it was the liquor...

Country Grammar, Nelly: Actually, I hate this song but it reminds me of a night, Summer 2000, when my friends and I were totally unsuccessful sneaking our way into some swanky all white, or black or gold party out in the Hamptons. After our rejection (FOILED!  So much for that London training) we drove to our local haunt, and well, I met up with my now husband (who had also been rejected from the same party where he was coming to meet me).  See, it was fate :-)

What are your music memories?  Isn't it amazing how just a few notes of a song can take you right back?  I think that is one of our nicest traits as humans. 

Dad, seven months later

Status: 8:41PM; baby in bed for about an hour now.  Chicken stock on the stove (just cuz).  Pasta makings also on the stove (waiting for the husband to get home to truly fire that up).  East India Pale Ale.

So what to talk about?  How about Dad.  Seven months later.  Seven months since he died. 

I will admit, I feel weird writing about this because some readers might say "enough already!"  Or something like that.  But this is my blog and I will write what I want to (just had to say that).

So what is it like, to be 37 and be done with having your dad alive in your life?

First off, people are extraordinarily gracious for the first several weeks.  Then, nothing.  They are not rude, but nobody really asks "Hey, how are you doing with having lost your dad?"  I know that people would listen if I brought it up, but sometimes it's nice to be asked.  I am not bitter about this - I am not sure I knew before this that it's nice to have someone ask about it.

You know that flash you get when you remember to call someone?  I get that.  And in an instant, I say "oh right.  can't do that anymore."  it does not hurt in a painful way; rather, in a teary way.  I just miss him.  Plain and simple.  The night of the six month anniversary was bad.  I relived the evening as the time approached when he had died.  I am not excited to get to the one year point, but I am excited to get beyond it.

I have an unusual interest in death and what it's like to die.  Don't get all crazy now, I am not interested in it for bad reasons - just really want to know what happens.  I think he knew.  He said some things that night to my mom and to the nurse that suggest he knew.  He did a few things that suggest he knew.  We will never know I suppose, until, well, you know.

I found I wanted to know everything about him.  I had so many unanswered questions.  those questions remain.  if your parents are alive, get a book titled Legacy and ask lots of those questions.  document your time.  you will be happy you have it later.  We have a few recordings of his voice.  We have 30 years of sermons.  I am not ready to let any of those items go.  We have tons (I do mean TONS) of his handwritten notes.  I treasure those.  I carry something with me at all times that he carried with him. 

I still cry.  It does not last long, so if you are talking to me and I cry don't be alarmed.  It's not that dramatic.  Just a few tears here and there.

For the most part I am increasingly grateful to have what we have - notes, recordings, memories. It's a duller pain and in some ways, more wonderful than I imagined.  It's something I choose to allow - I don't fight it.  I like remembering him.  I love talking about him.  I have lots of laughs about him.  I can still hear his voice in my head.  I have not had one of those experiences people say they have when they "sense" someone.  I have not stepped into a church since he died.  Not sure I can go there yet.  I remember vividly the hymn that played at his funeral and I hum it to myself often.  I was bummed the other day when I heard a wonderful piece of music which I could not identify...it was at a time like that when I would have called him and asked what it was.  Like a game...he would have had the composer, the work, the pianist and maybe after a minute or two, the precise recording for me.  That was my dad.

I am going to write more about him over time.  It helps me remember things that I want to share with my daughter.  And, for me, it's simply nice to remember. 

Great Gift Idea

I meant to write about this a while ago but forgot!  So here we go - if you are looking for a great gift to give new parents, have I got an idea for you.  New parents get many wonderful gifts - books, blankets, clothes.  We got to know our UPS guy personally after Avery was born. 

And then a friend sent us an email basically saying "Call this number, our treat."  So we called the number and wouldn't you know it but it was a personal chef on the other end of the line.  Our friends had hired her to come and cook for us one night, to celebrate the arrival of our daughter.  How fabulous is THAT. 

We talked to her about food likes (many) and dislikes (few), favorite meals of all time, and other particulars to give her some ideas.  And then, she arrived at our house one evening after we had put Avery down and calmly started to set up.  She set the table, arranged the kitchen, and poured us glasses of wine.

She proceeded to serve us a delicious four course meal including watercress soup with white asparagus, red snapper, quail and a rhubarb tart.  She cooked, served the meal and cleaned up the kitchen.  She was quiet as a church mouse and cooked like a fiend. 

It was heaven.  We had not been out in weeks, had a little anxiety about leaving as we had not yet hired a babysitter with whom we were comfortable and were hankering for a nice evening with real food - prepared by someone else. 

I don't think it is the cheapest gift, but I would definitely do this for someone else - maybe go in on it with other people - because it was different, in line with just what we needed, memorable and a huge treat.  Here are a few pictures from the evening:

 

Dear Avery, snippets of an evening at home...

That is, Home with a capital H...the home where my parents, your grandparents, live...

8:30PM, after dinner.  In the library, watching Peyton Place.  Mom and Dad on the couch. 

Dad: "I remember the first time I saw this, I was in Louisville Kentucky about to leave for Europe.  I had just finished basic training at Fort Knox."

"YOU did push ups."

"Yes.  Don't look so SHOCKED.  Where are my glasses..."

Yup, my classical-music loving, never exercising father did basic training at none other than, FORT KNOX.  In typical, Tom Dixon fashion, he got himself a swanky Army desk job in Paris (not bad for a book wormy, food loving, romantic French major from Ohio).  Yes, Paris, a place your father and I will take you one day, and then you will go again and learn it for yourself, on your own terms. 

Mom is knitting.  "What are you knitting?' "An afghan for friends for Christmas."  Yes, your grandmother knows how to knit, sew, stitch...CREATE.

"What the hell was her name...the actress...she had a very short movie career..."

"We used to watch Peyton Place at the Kappa House in the 60s."  (Yep, your grandmother was an AVID Kappa Kappa Gamma, and your great grandmother. I was not.  Maybe you will be.)

"OH one of my favorite old tunes!  You'll never know!" 

Avery, and so the conversation goes.  Your grandparents trade memories of actors and actresses, with a wild ability to recall facts, figures and stories about these people they feel the grew up with.

You, sweet pea, are at home with your dad.  I am here helping out with a few things...and, well, spending time.  These notes are nothing fancy, but they portray a pretty typical scene here at Home, that I will miss one day, and that I wish you could see.