And They Said It Wouldn’t Last

On August 19, my husband and I will celebrate our 19th wedding anniversary. We were married in 2000, when we were both rapidly approaching our mid-thirties. We had known each other for three years, having met through a mutual friend with whom I worked.

I was 33, and he was 34, and when we got married, I was living in Mobile, Alabama, and he was living in Charlotte, North Carolina. We had met in Mobile in 1997, but he had moved to Charlotte soon thereafter, so we had a long-distance relationship, and I had no plans of moving unless I was married. I’m sure I could have found a job in Charlotte, but at 33, I wasn’t willing to make a partial commitment to a man; I needed a full-on commitment if I were going to move.

So we were married on August 19 in the historic First Presbyterian Church in Wetumpka, Alabama. When we returned from our two-week Hawaiian honeymoon, we went to Mobile and loaded a truck with all my belongings and moved them to Charlotte. I had lived in different places, so moving was not a challenge for me. In fact, the longest I had ever lived anywhere at that point in my life was nine years…moving wasn’t a problem. Of course, my family was in Alabama, but I could visit whenever I wanted, and we talked every day.

Not gonna lie. The first year was challenging. Remember, we were 33 and 34. We had both been living alone for years, and I loved living alone….eating cereal for dinner in front of the TV; staying up as late as I wanted; being in charge of the remote control; not answering to anyone…you get the picture. We were two (and still are) two very different people. He likes to be home. I like to be on the go. In fact, home, for me, is just a place to change clothes. And I’m always planning my next trip. He’s quiet. I’m not. Seriously, he is very quiet and reserved. But we were married. Suddenly, I had to be more grown up. I had to cook and eat real meals at the table instead of sitting cross-legged on the floor. My husband liked to go to bed earlier than I did, and he always held the remote control. Life was different, and when I was down, he didn’t understand. What did I not like about leaving a one-bedroom apartment? Well…that little one bedroom apartment was my space, and after getting married, it seemed I rarely had my space. I’m sure there were people who could sense the tension and thought, “They’ll never make it.”

But one year in, I was accustomed to married life. In fact, one year in, and I was flat out enjoying it. We got a dog…an Airedale Terrier I wanted to name Fannie after a college friend, but the husband wouldn’t go for “Fannie.” We opted for Annie instead. She has been gone for several years now, but I still wish we had named her Fannie.  And then, 2.5 years after we married, we were expecting a baby. We found out in May 2003 it was a girl, and we were thrilled. She was born in October of 2003, and no one ever loved a baby more than we love that girl. But again, there was added stress. We were sleep deprived. We were exhausted (mostly me). But after the first few months, we started to get more sleep. We started to have more fun, and the stress of having a baby in the house subsided. We were a happy little family of three.

It hasn’t been all fun and games. In 2005, my husband’s beloved grandmother passed away, and all of us were heartbroken. She was kind and caring, and she was a force of nature. At the same time, my mother was driving from Mobile to Birmingham (4-5 hours) all the time, trying to get my grandmother settled in to assisted living, and my daddy was having undiagnosed health issues. In February 2006, he was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, and he died that same year…eight months after his official diagnosis. My heart was broken. While I had lost grandparents, I had never experienced a loss as terrible as that one. It was the hardest time of my life, at that point. I was truly devastated. My heart ached in a way I didn’t know it could.

After that, my husband had not one, but two brain surgeries, and we survived that. I say “we,” because it was hard on both of us. Physically and mentally, it was difficult for him. It was emotionally and mentally hard on me. He came back from surgery a different person, but we got through that too. You can read about it here. And then, I lost my mother in December 2017. It took the wind out of my sails. I slept for a month afterward. I had learned some coping skills after the losing my daddy, but it didn’t matter. Nothing could have prepared me for the loss of my mother. I can still get upset at any moment, and it has been 20 months since she passed.

But my husband helped. He understood. He knew that when I stayed in bed in January of 2018, I needed to be there. He looked out for me. He supported me. And then, one of my dearest friends died in June 2018 after battling cancer for 30 years. My husband supported me through that too.

We’ve had our share of heartaches, but we are a team, and we deal with them together. We have had our share of disagreements, but we’ve moved past them. Sometimes he thinks I’m absolutely insane, and vice versa. I’m not going to lie and say it has been easy. It hasn’t always been easy. I don’t always understand him, and he doesn’t always understand me, but we try.

But married life hasn’t been all about loss. It hasn’t been all been difficult. We love raising our daughter together. We love sitting out on the patio together in the evening…sipping Prosecco and listening to jazz music. We have enjoyed going to lots of concerts together. At night, before we go to sleep, we watch an episode of Chrisley Knows Best, The Young and The Restless, or CSI: Miami. He helps me plant the garden every year, and I tend it. We both love to watch college and NFL football, so fall is a busy time for us. And we try to go to all our daughter’s field hockey and lacrosse games. He brings me coffee in bed every morning, because he learned that I’m a lot happier if I wake up with caffeine. I go to bed earlier, because he likes to get to bed earlier than I do. We laugh a lot…at each other and with each other. We have fun together. We are thankful we wake up every day. We appreciate the life we have together.

Our daughter is about to start her sophomore year of high school, and in three short years, she will be heading off to college somewhere. We will enter a new phase of life, God willing. And we will have to adapt to more changes. Right now, we aren’t always on the same page for our plans for the empty nest years. But I’m sure we will find ways to compromise. We will find ways to make sure we both get to “live the dream.” He wants the Gulf Coast, and I want to travel to different cities. We will find a way to make it all happen, and we will have fun along the way….God willing.

Happy 19th Anniversary, Cary! And they said it wouldn’t last…

Advertisements

UFO Houses

Driving through Pensacola Beach and Navarre Beach last week (lovely beaches on the Gulf Coast), I saw three houses that reminded me of spaceships, so I took pictures of the “UFO houses.” OK, I know…it’s not actually an Unidentified Flying Object if it’s a house, but it just doesn’t sound as intriguing to call it a “spaceship house.” So I choose to call them UFO houses. With all the attention Area 51 is getting these days, it seems fitting to talk about UFOs again anyway. No…I’m not planning to storm Area 51.

I’ve written before about how I love automobiles shaped like food. Well, I love houses shaped like spaceships too. And who knew I’d see more than one on one tiny little island on Florida’s Gulf Coast?!?

Last week, I visited the Alabama Gulf Coast with my husband, our teenage daughter, and one of her friends. After a few days, my husband stayed behind while the three of us went for a little road trip. Our destination on the first day was Panama City Beach, but I opted to take the scenic route. If you’re a teenager, you’d likely call it the “slow route.” My daughter moaned and groaned a little about it, but she perked up when we saw some things she’d never seen!

We were on the main road through Pensacola Beach, about three miles east of Three Mile Bridge on Santa Rosa Island, when I spied something I’d seen before but forgotten! If you are even remotely close to my age (52), you know our country was crazy for UFOs in the 60s and 70s. I was born in 1967, so I don’t remember a lot about the 60s, but I remember the 70s pretty well, and I remember all the chatter about UFOs. When I was a kid and saw the UFO house, it frightened me. My child brain couldn’t differentiate between the real thing and something that looked like the real thing.

Now, though, I’m fascinated by the house that looks like a UFO. According to Roadside America (an app you must have anytime you take a road trip), the “portable, prefabricated home design from 1968 is by Finnish architect Matti Suuronen.” It has survived numerous hurricanes along the Gulf Coast. Unfortunately, I didn’t get to go inside, as it is a private home, but I haven’t stopped thinking about it since.

Doing a little research online, I found that these Futuro prefab homes were first sold for about $14000, but with the 70s oil crisis, the price of plastic went up, tripling the cost of the prefab UFO houses, and soon thereafter, no more were made. I also found there are at least 15 still in the United States and more in other countries. I found them in Idyllwild, California; Royse City, Texas; Milton, Delaware; Central Illinois; Cincinnati, Ohio; New Jersey; and even one in Frisco, North Carolina. Apparently, there are more of them than I ever imagined. I guess I’ll be planning a Futuro home road trip in my future. I hope my friend, Mary Ann, is up for that.

On youtube, I even found a video clip from a news station of the interior of a Futuro home! You can see it here.

So now, I’m obsessed with the Futuro homes and wondering if I could possibly talk my husband into retiring in one after our daughter goes off to college?! If not, there are some others on Santa Rosa Island that are not Futuro homes but still look a little like spaceships to me. See photos below.

If you’re as fascinated by UFO houses as I am, you can check out different ones on Instagram. I looked them up under #futurohouse, and I found several Instagram sites dedicated to them as well.

Of course, I know there’s not a chance my husband would even consider a Futuro house. If I could find one for my very own tiny vacation home, I’d be just as happy with that. If you hear of anyone who is listing one for sale, send me their number.

Foodmobiles

It’s no secret…I love cars shaped like food!

There’s the Oscar Mayer Weinermobile, the Planters Nutmobile, the Hershey Kissmobile, and some lesser known ones…the Cadbury Creme Egg Car, the Pepperidge Farm Goldfish car, the Big Idaho Potato truck, and even a truck shaped like a can of Spam. It’s true!

I’m fascinated by them. Yes, I’m way too old for that nonsense, but I love automobiles shaped like food.

I thought about it again earlier today when I saw the Oscar Mayer Weinermobile had been in Charlotte this week, and I missed it. I still can’t believe it, but I have to let it go. It’s done. I’ve seen the Weinermobile before, but it has been a long time. It was late 1989 or early 1990, and I was fresh out of college and living in the Atlanta area. One morning, as I left my apartment, I noticed a new Wendy’s was opening across the street…and then I saw it…the Weinermobile! It was parked in the Wendy’s parking lot, just beckoning for me to come over and have a hot dog! Alas, I had to get to work, so I didn’t actually “meet” the Weinermobile, but I plan to meet it someday! You can see the Weinermobile website here , and there’s an app you can download too!

In 2016, I had an encounter with the Hershey Kissmobile. I did a fun road trip with my friend, Sara, and our daughters, and our last stop was in Hershey, Pennsylvania, before heading home. We were staying at a hotel that was not a Hershey property, but as we drove to Hershey Park, we spotted something special parked near our hotel…the Kissmobile! There were no drivers around, so our interaction with the Kissmobile was not very ceremonious, but we had a great time getting photos!

My most recent food-shaped automobile encounter occurred earlier this year. I was having lunch with some friends at a restaurant in the SouthPark area of Charlotte, and suddenly, I saw it…the Planters Nutmobile was driving slowly past the restaurant. Fortunately, we had a seat near a window, so I could see it in all its beauty. As I realized what was approaching, I said to my friends, “Oh my goodness! It’s like a dream come true!” I’m sure they thought I had lost my mind, and I refrained from running out the door and chasing down the Nutmobile on foot…but it wasn’t easy. After another half hour or so, we left, but as I was leaving the parking lot of the restaurant, the same Nutmobile drove right past…right in front of me! I made a quick right turn and fell in behind it…following it into a shopping center…around the back of the shopping center…past the dumpsters…and finally, it parked beside a store. I think the drivers were just looking for a place to have lunch, but I jumped out of my car and took a selfie with the Nutmobile, and then one of the drivers offered to take a picture of me. And of course, I promptly uploaded the pics to Instagram, knowing my teenage daughter would be mortified when she opened her Instagram account after school and saw that I had stalked the Nutmobile.

59931083_10219423144834142_2513051348472168448_o

So now I’m on a quest to get photos with as many food-shaped automobiles as possible. Lucky for me, the Big Idaho Potato Truck has a tour schedule online, and I see they are going to be in Hickory, NC, on August 20. Guess I’ll be getting ready for a quick roadtrip! You can see the schedule here.

It looks like I’ve already missed the Spam Tiny House of Sizzle tour for this year…they were in Lexington, NC, in May. You can see their schedule here. I’ll have to remember to check that one next spring.

As of right now, I haven’t been able to find any websites or social media sites for the Pepperidge Farm Goldfish Car or the Cadbury Creme Egg Car, but I’ll keep looking!

Hopefully, I’ll get some more good photo opportunities with food-shaped automobiles.

 

 

Cheers to Cheerwine

You don’t know what Cheerwine is? Well, I didn’t either till I moved to North Carolina.

I got married in 2000 and loaded up all my belongings in a U-Haul truck, taking them all to my new home with my new husband in Charlotte, North Carolina.

When I moved to Charlotte, I found a beautiful city with lots of green spaces and lovely people. I was thrilled to be living in a bigger city that, at the time, was a hub for USAirways. USAirways has since merged with American Airlines, so our hub is even better now. Charlotte is jam packed with stuff to do…NFL games, NBA games, minor league baseball, museums, a large amusement park, NASCAR, and more.

After moving to Charlotte, I was also introduced to Cheerwine, a cherry-flavored soft drink bottled in Salisbury, a small town located just northeast of Charlotte, and I loved it. The first question I had about it might be the same question you have: does it contain alcohol? Even though the word “wine” is in the name of the drink, there is no alcohol in Cheerwine. The only cherry-flavored soda I’d ever had prior to Cheerwine was Cherry Coke, which has more of a cola base with a little cherry thrown in. And maybe Dr. Pepper? Do people think it has some cherry flavor? It’s good, but it’s not really a cherry soda. I had enjoyed cherry Icees over the years, but Cheerwine was something different.

On their website, which you can see here, they call themselves “the south’s unique cherry soft drink.” Unique? Indeed…and in a good way! According to the website, it was created in Salisbury, North Carolina, by a gentleman named L.D. Peeler in 1917. That’s over 100 years of Cheerwine! You can read all about the history of the refreshing beverage on their website. In the early 1970s, they introduced Diet Cheerwine, which is actually my favorite, because I just don’t enjoy beverages with real sugar. Lots of people love the original recipe, but I’m a Diet Cheerwine fan all the way. *Don’t preach to me about artificial sweeteners. It will fall on deaf ears.*

Folks in North Carolina are proud of Cheerwine, and lots of folks grew up drinking it. Whenever I think of things that are uniquely representative of the Carolinas, Cheerwine is at the top of list…right up there with college basketball and NASCAR. If you haven’t tried Cheerwine, you should. You can order it online, shipped directly to your home, from cheerwine.com here.

From their site, you can also order Cheerwine apparel, merchandise, and sauces. Most importantly, you can find recipes for cakes, barbecue sauces, and cocktails. There’s a recipe for a Cheerwine southern bundt cake that looks especially appealing to me. I find myself thinking about that cake pretty regularly. I’m going to just have to break down and make one.

And to top it all off, in addition to having the south’s unique cherry soft drink, fun merchandise, apparel, and recipes, Cheerwine has a summer contest going on right now. You can win a vacation getaway! For more information, click here. Who knows, maybe Cheerwine will send you to Asheville, The Outer Banks, or Charleston! You’ll have to take some pics with Cheerwine and put the appropriate hashtag on social media. If you don’t have Cheerwine, you can order it from the website and get started on that contest!

Cheers to Cheerwine!

 

 

Let’s Talk About Snakes

When I was growing up in Alabama, snakes were a full-on reality. I don’t mean green snakes or milk snakes or oak snakes. I mean real, scary, venomous snakes. In fact, in Alabama, there are six kinds of venomous snakes. For comparison, in Mecklenburg County, North Carolina, there is one type: the Copperhead. But in Alabama, you have to watch out for the Copperhead, the Cottonmouth (also known as a water moccasin), the Timber Rattlesnake, the Diamondback Rattlesnake, the Pygmy Rattlesnake, and the Eastern Coral Snake. You can see pictures of them at Outdooralabama.com here. And I should tell you…they are plentiful.

Don’t get me wrong. I’ve run into lots of Copperheads since moving to North Carolina nineteen years ago, but I was reminded about those Alabama snakes when I saw an article on Facebook today about a woman in Greenville, Alabama, who was bitten by a Timber Rattler. You can see the article here. According to the article, she had to have 16 vials of antivenin…sixteen!

I shared the article on my personal Facebook page with a statement about how I likely narrowly escaped death when I was 18. My nephew, who remembers all the stories I tell about my life, immediately commented that he was sure I had told him the story, but he didn’t remember it. And that’s when I realized I probably had not shared it. Why? Because I was somewhere I shouldn’t have been.

Anyone who knows me knows I’m not one to “hang out” in the woods. I don’t like ticks. I don’t like snakes. I don’t like excessive nature. “Nature,” in Alabama, means you might encounter any number of those creatures and more.

But on this particular day when I was 18, the summer before I went off to college, I ventured into the woods with three friends. Full disclosure: I didn’t really know we were going into the full-on woods. The family of one of the friends had a “hunting camp” in the woods, so we were going there to hang out one Friday night. Now, when I heard “hunting camp,” I guess I was thinking more “hunting lodge.” As we drove, in a Jeep, through the woods to the hunting camp, I started to realize it was really a camp. The fact that there was no road to it was my first clue. And I was a little scared…not gonna lie…I was scared. But I had to play it cool.

We arrived at the hunting camp, and I’m sure my eyes were wide. I looked at it. I’m sure I looked at one of my other non-nature friends, hoping she would say she was scared, but nope. She let me down. She was actually laughing and smiling. I knew I was in trouble. There were no power lines anywhere. I had thought we would be going to a small house where there was television, a refrigerator, modern conveniences. Nope. Heck, when we walked inside, I discovered there wasn’t even much of a floor. I was scared.

It was at this point I spoke up. I don’t really remember what I said, but I made it clear I wanted to get out of there. Nope…not gonna hang out up there. Fortunately, my non-nature friend in the party spoke up too. Hanging out in the “hunting camp” was not an option. I’m sure I said something along the lines of “Let’s leave now.” So we did.

There were three stair steps to get out of the “camp,” and I was leading the charge to the Jeep.

I stepped down the first two steps, and just as I was about to step off the bottom step, I saw a giant rattlesnake slithering by…right where my foot would have dropped. Now, I’m not exaggerating. It was a huge snake…a Diamondback Rattlesnake. A frightening creature. They can get up to more than five feet long, and they are thick-bodied, scary snakes. I’m not sure how big this one was, but he was big. Fortunately, he had no idea I was there, so he just kept slithering by. If he had been aware of my presence, he would have made noise…aren’t we all glad rattlesnakes have rattles?!?! I don’t know if I gasped. I don’t know if I screamed. I know I pulled my foot back quickly and stood frozen on the steps till the snake had passed, but then I was afraid there were snakes I didn’t see! I was scared to go back into that God-forsaken “camp,” but I was afraid to touch the ground to get back to the Jeep. Finally, one person went ahead of me, and then I ran to the Jeep.

As we drove out of the woods, I cried. Yep, cried. I said a prayer of thanks to God that He had spared me that terrible fate. I said a prayer of thanks that my brother was still alive; he spent so much time in the woods that he should have been bitten by at least one snake. I also prayed that the car would not break down before we got back to civilization.

For days, I thought about how fortunate I had been. I would have died if that snake had struck me…no doubt. There is no way my friends could have gotten me out of the woods fast enough to save me, and there were no phones to call an ambulance (which wouldn’t have been able to find me) either. I had seen death in the form of a Diamondback Rattlesnake and escaped.

The moral of the story? Well, there are a few lessons here. Don’t go places you aren’t supposed to go. Stay out of the woods. “Hunting camp” does not mean “hunting lodge.” One (a lodge) has real walls, electricity, and modern conveniences, and one looks like a place you might find a dead body…mine if I had stepped on that snake. And this has nothing to do with that particular snake tale, but it is a lesson: I don’t like brown water…like water in lakes and rivers…never have, because snakes can hide in the water. My friends, Angela and Mary Ann make fun of me for it, but here’s what I think: that brown water is their home…the creatures, I mean. I don’t want them in my home, and really…I don’t want to get in their home either.

A few years ago, in Maine, one of the kids with me kicked a ball into a grassy field, and I had to retrieve it. As I ran out into the field, I thought, “I wonder if they have venomous snakes in Maine.” As soon as I got to the ball, I saw a snake. And as soon as we got back indoors, I looked up “snakes in Maine” and found they had no venomous snakes. Whew!

Maybe I’ll move to Maine…

 

 

Waiting For Rob Lowe

We got home from vacation yesterday…after a couple of delays…and a friend offered me a ticket to see Rob Lowe (yes, that Rob Lowe) speak in uptown Charlotte last night. I landed in Charlotte at about 6:30am, came home, and got in bed for a couple hours. After waking, I tended my garden ( more on that later…the tomatoes and corn are doing well!) and started getting dressed for an early dinner before seeing Rob. Yes, I prefer to call him Rob.

If you don’t know, Rob Lowe wrote a couple of books a few years back. The first one is titled Stories I Only Tell My Friends, and the second is called Love Life. You can purchase them from Amazon.com here. I have read both, and the first one, Stories…, is my favorite. He really does share some great stories from his life growing up in the Malibu area with Charlie Sheen, Emilio Estevez, the Van Patten family, and the Penns (Sean and Chris). He also shares stories from his career and adult life…which has been colorful.

So last night, we went uptown  and waited patiently for Rob Lowe to tell us stories. Thus, the title of this piece, Waiting For Rob Lowe. Fortunately, he didn’t keep us waiting long.

While we were “spending time with Rob” with about 2,000 other people, we heard a few anecdotes from his books, but we also got a glimpse into his private life. He talked about his family, the freedom he had as a child (“where were my parents?!?!”), and he told some stories he had not shared in his books. We saw his personality shine. We heard funny stories about Cary Grant, Robert Wagner, Tom Cruise, and Sally Field. We even saw a short homemade film he did as a teenager with Sheen and his own brother, Chad Lowe. It was time well spent.

And at the end, he did a question and answer session…sort of Carol Burnett style. Remember how she did that at the end of her show? Well, they turned up the house lights, and hands went up all over the theater…including mine. The first person asked about his indiscretion at the Democratic National Convention in Atlanta in 1988, but he didn’t really answer. He laughed and remarked at the “hard hitting” question, but didn’t really talk about the “incident,” which, I’m sure, was a low point in his life. And I’m glad he didn’t address it…water under the bridge. Honestly, I couldn’t believe someone asked about it. It was more than 30 years ago!

After that, the questions got lighter. One lady asked for a picture, but he very politely  declined. Another person asked about his favorite movie experiences. Still another one asked about his memories of Patrick Swayze. And all this time, I was waving wildly from the balcony, hoping he would pick me!

Here’s my Rob Lowe backstory: When I was a teenager, the first time I ever saw Rob Lowe was in a movie called Hotel New Hampshire, based on a book written by my favorite author, John Irving. I had not read the book yet at that point, and honestly, I didn’t even know who John Irving was, but I loved the quirky movie, and I fell in love with a young, beautiful Rob Lowe. And yes, beautiful is the correct term, because he was a beautiful young man. He’s a “smoking hot” middle-aged man, but he was a beautiful young man. Of course, he made better movies (About Last Night, St Elmo’s Fire, The Outsiders, and more), but my very first glimpse of Rob Lowe was in Hotel New Hampshire.

And then…fast forward 30+ years…last week, when I was on vacation, I had an experience to remember: I actually ran into Rob Lowe in a coffee shop. Yep…the same Rob Lowe. My friend, Angela, was with me, and when I realized he was sitting just down the counter from us, I looked at her wide-eyed and said, without trying to move my lips too much, “Rob Lowe.” She asked, “What?” I said, again without trying to move my lips, “Rob Lowe.” “Juan Pablo??” “Rob Lowe!” She said, “Oh. OK.” And she kept eating! In about a minute or two, she looked at me and said, “You know I can’t hear. I have no idea what you said.” I said, much more clearly this time, “Rob Lowe!” She immediately turned and saw him sitting just a few seats away.

He was sitting with his son and someone else, and soon they got up to leave. Not one to let the opportunity to pass, as he walked slowly past us on his way out, Angela turned and told him (while touching him!) how much she admired his work…and I think she even told him he’s beautiful. He was slowly continuing on toward the door…smiling and being friendly…but continuing to move, so we didn’t ask for a picture. I simply chimed in as he approached the door (right next to where we were sitting), telling him I’d loved him in Hotel New Hampshire. And it got his attention! He stopped in his tracks, laughing, turned around and said, “Oh my God! You are the one person who saw it!” I told him I loved it, and he left.

So, of course, since I didn’t have photographic evidence of my meeting him, I needed to prove to 2,000 people that I had actually met him. Yes, something is wrong with me. I’m a middle-aged groupie. During the Q&A, I continued waving wildly from my seat, and then it happened…he invited “the crazy waving lady” to ask a question. Yes, I’m the crazy waving lady! I’m cool with that. In fact, if you want to refer to me as Crazy Waving Lady every time you see me for the rest of my life, feel free. I stood up and said, “I met you last week at the [name of coffee shop] and mentioned Hotel New Hampshire.” At this point, I paused before continuing, hoping he would remember, before asking my question. He said, “Yes!” And he explained to 2,000 people, that we had, indeed, met in Beverly Hills, and I had mentioned an obscure movie called Hotel New Hampshire that opened in theaters on the same day as the Tom Hanks/Darryl Hannah movie, Splash. I had a question about Hotel New Hampshire and Jodie Foster (who was also in the movie), but I never got to ask it…or rather, he didn’t hear me, because he was explaining the obscurity of the movie. But really, I didn’t care. I no longer needed photographic evidence of our meeting. My friend, Jenn, heard him say he remembered the meeting…and so did 2,000 other people. Woot!

I guess, when it comes to Rob Lowe, I’m still a teenager going to movies and reading Teen Beat and Tiger Beat. And I loved hearing him tell stories last night. He is, indeed, a storyteller. He knows how to get a laugh. He knows how to tell a story. And he has some great memories.

And now I have two great memories of interactions with Rob Lowe. Now I have more stories to tell friends. I’m Crazy Waving Lady. If I ever write an autobiography, that will be the title: Crazy Waving Lady…or maybe Waiting For Rob Lowe.

***My friend, Jerry Parker, gets all the credit for the title of this blog. I posted a pic of me and Jenn (see below) waiting for the show to start last night, and the caption was “Waiting for Rob Lowe.” Jerry suggested it would be a good book title.***

65088680_10219808671592070_5891990403288137728_o

Gone But Not Forgotten

Today is the anniversary of the death of a very dear friend. We became friends in 2004, right after my daughter turned one, and her son (her first child) was about six months old. Our lives were intertwined for years. Dynamics changed as our kids got older. My friend took a job. She moved to the west coast. She and her husband divorced. They moved again to the east coast…New England. But we always remained friends. Was our friendship always perfect? No. She was hurt when she took her job and our playgroup didn’t envelope her kids the way we should have. We didn’t always agree with each other’s decisions. But we were friends. We were the kind of friends who would have always been friends…and then she died.

And here’s what I always hear…”Life goes on.” But what exactly does that mean? Her life didn’t go on, but the lives of her children, family, and friends have gone on. Because she had moved away years ago and never answered her phone, she wasn’t a part of our daily lives in Charlotte anymore. But she was a part of my life…and she was a part of the lives of others. I’m not going to say all that sappy stuff like “she lit up a room”…or “she was always good.” People were drawn to her, and I was flattered that she picked me as her friend. But she wasn’t perfect, just like I’m not. But dang it…she was my friend. And she was the mother to two children…now aged 13 and 15. She was the daughter of two wonderful parents who loved her beyond measure, and her sister and brother….well, they adored her too. She loved her family more than anything, and they were always active in her life. But her life stopped on June 4, 2018. Gone too soon. She was just 46, even though the priest at her funeral kept saying she was 47…that actually made me chuckle during the service, thinking of what her response would have been, “Are you kidding me?! Don’t make me older than I am!”

She was active. She exercised all the time and ate really well most of the time…even though we did love eating Doritos together late at night when we vacationed in Maine. She loved red licorice, Zotz candy, and Spree candy. Those were her weaknesses…her guilty pleasures. She didn’t eat them all the time, but she sure enjoyed them when she had them! There was a candy store in Kennebunkport, Maine, that sold the perfect red licorice for her, and we were regulars there. Once, she was going to another store, so I went to stock up on candy. I had forgotten my wallet, so she gave me her credit card and her drivers license. I laughed, saying, “Ummm…if they ask for ID for the credit card, there is no way they are going to believe this!” She was tall, dark, and Irish/Italian. I’m short, fair, and Anglo. She said, “Just take it!” Luckily, they didn’t ask for ID, so I was able to stock up on licorice, Zotz, Spree, and good old-fashioned candy cigarettes for us. Go ahead. Grimace. We didn’t care. Candy cigarettes were old school, and we liked them.

My friend had suffered since she was a teenager with various types of cancer. Lymphoma, breast cancer, leukemia…life wasn’t easy for her, but she kept living it…till she didn’t. I think I always believed she would continue to beat cancer…till she didn’t.

Her children, a boy and a girl, are being raised by their very capable dad. He’s a good dad, exposing them to the world while also making sure their souls are nourished. They go to camp with other children who have lost parents to cancer. They have loving grandparents, and they have aunts and uncles who love them too. But they don’t have their mother. She’s not there every day to encourage them to finish homework. She’s not there to hug them when they need it. She’s not there to guide them, listen to them, help them, parent them.

So yes, life goes on…but it goes on without my friend. For her children, life goes on without their mother. For her parents…without their daughter.

Things happen all the time that make me think of her. Every time I go to Dunkin’ Donuts and order an iced coffee with extra cream, I think of her. Every time I drive past her old house in Charlotte…at least twice a week (I do it intentionally)…I think of her. Every time I think of summer on the beach in Maine…I think of her. Or summers at the pool…all our friends had memberships at different clubs, so we would alternate the pools we visited during the summer. Every time I eat Spree or Zotz, I think of her. I even saw a Santander Bank in Cancun and thought of her…she had worked for them at one time. I was talking with someone last week about Mike’s Pastries in Boston…thought of my friend; she introduced my daughter to cannolis at Mike’s Pastries. Every time someone mentions the Virginia Creeper bike trail, I think of her and the time we took our children…it turned into a comedy of errors, but we survived. Every time I pass the hospital, I think of her, because we actually spent quality time there together, when she was having chemo. Mention California Pizza Kitchen, and I think of the time she almost died from an anaphylactic reaction when we were having lunch there. When I think of my daddy’s cancer diagnosis, I think of her too, because I was on my way to dinner with her when I found out Daddy had pancreatic cancer. And every time I hear about a young person who has cancer, I think of her and how long she fought.

My friend hasn’t been forgotten. She is still a part of our lives and our regular conversations. She taught us a lot about friendship. Tonight, our playgroup friends will gather for dinner, sans kids, to drink a toast to our friend who is no longer with us…one year gone. Life goes on…but it goes on differently.