100,000k

I drive a 2004 Honda Civic that my husband and I purchased new, not long after we moved to California.  All this winter and spring, I watched the odometer as it rolled toward 100,000.  I have never lived with a car for so long, and never for its entire “first” 100,000 miles. 

And the past five years have been eventful.  Some highlights of the journey:  ten different residences; toting belongings on a cross-country move to New York and, five months later, toting everything back to California; three employers plus concurrent theater work and graduate school; marital separation and reconciliation, heartbreak and depression, and recovery from it all; impromptu road trips to L.A., Oregon, and many solitary drives on local back roads and along the coast; and, in the midst of everything, the passing of my father. 

Thinking about this particular 100,000 miles, there are so many new friends, accomplishments and reasons to celebrate, as well as some to memorialize and to release.  Marking the beginning of the next 100,000 miles also seemed like a mindful way to be open to all the possibilities “down the road” (sorry, just give me this one).

I began to be excited the week that the car hit 99,800 because I realized that the odometer would change on a Friday on my way home from work (if I took a scenic route). I often drive to the towns of Tomales and Dillon Beach because I love the beauty of the the open land, the ranches, and the coastal views.  I thought it would be amazing if the car hit 100,000 at the beach, which seemed possible and poetic…to land on 100,000 on the edge of the continent. 

I left work and drove through the hills of western Marin County.  I stopped briefly in Tomales at a beautiful little graveyard that I like to visit, and then arrived at Dillon Beach at mile 99,988.  I considered looping back, just to try to make the mileage at the beach, but that seemed dishonest.  I decided to head home and planned to stop wherever the odometer turned and take a picture of the site (if it was safe to pull over, of course). 

As I approached the Bodega Highway and Route 1 intersection, I started to laugh:  I had figured that the site would likely turn out to be of a random piece of land along the highway, but as I turned east toward the town of Bodega the odometer hit 99,999.  I turned right toward the Bodega schoolhouse, inched up the hill and watched as the odometer turned to 100,000, and stopped the car.  There is no way I could have planned it, nor will I ever forget exactly where it occurred.  It was framed perfectly, too…

And if you don’t immediately recognize the site of the beginning of my mile 100,001:

 

Girdwood, Alaska

I feel like I’m on another planet, and it is good.  After only one full day in Alaska, I can understand why some people just pull the plug on their lives in the Lower 48 and move here (I’m not quite to that point).

Yes, it is unbelievably beautiful, but it is the fact that human eccentricity is embraced and fostered here that I currently find entertaining.  My mother (my chatty traveling companion) and I were talking to our waitress yesterday at breakfast, who really opened up when she found out that we weren’t with a tour group.  The woman has lived in Alaska for nearly 30 years, and was talking about her love of the local zoos and injured animal refuges (and did a deft impression of an eagle with only one wing trying to fly).  And her love of skiing.  And juggling.  And skiing while juggling.  I, of course, was laughing so hard over my oatmeal that I was crying.  There aren’t many videos out there of this “sport,” but here is one to entertain until my next Alaskan post.

 

studio city weekend & pushing friends’ cds/books

Although I have lived in Northern California for over five years now, I had never been to L.A. until last year. One of my best friends, S., lives in Studio City which finally provided the impetus to visit. For this, my third visit to S.’s home, I decided to make the 6-hour drive, versus flying. Family members fretted from afar about my safety – drive to L.A.?! But it was fine. (I’ve driven in a lot of major U.S. cities, and Chicago is worse in my opinion.)

The purpose of the visit was to celebrate the fabulous Baby Z.’s first birthday. S. had rented a tent to provide shade in the back yard, and I helped S. and her mom set-up, decorate, and bake for the party. The party looked great and I think everyone had a great time, especially Baby Z., who, by the end of the party, fervently toddled about and greedily-yet-joyously sampled all her playmates’ juiceboxes.

And here’s the shameless product plug bit. I’m so proud of the accomplishments of my friend Sherry (Luchette), whom I’ve known since we were joined-at-the-hip band & theater geeks in high school. She is an accomplished jazz bassist, music educator, and has written a book titled The Flying Jazz Kittens. The book is about how music teachers can integrate jazz components and appreciation into elemenary music education, and she presents clinics and workshops throughout the U.S. on the topic. Sherry is married to well-known jazz pianist, Tamir Hendelman, who is a member of the Jeff Hamilton Trio and records and performs with some of the greatest jazz performers of our time. Tamir has just released his debut cd as the head of his own trio; the cd is titled Playground. Cd sales in Japan have been great and it will be released in the U.S. in September.

I drove home on Sunday afternoon and was kind of dreading the potentially monotonous drive back through the central valley. But I decided to embrace the afternoon heat and rolled down my windows and turned up my radio. It ended up being a gorgeous drive because it was perfectly timed to watch the approach of twilight and then a stunning sunset. After tiring of listening to things like Cowboy Junkies and Rusted Root, I grabbed a random cd and inserted it. It turned out to be Slip Dunlap’s Times Like This, which was great bluesy-rock-driving-music, but also provides me with an opportunity to push another friend’s cd here. My friend Brien Lilja was the drummer on the album and played with Slim for many years. It was an appropriate close to a weekend spent among talented musicians.

 

whirlwind tour, stops 3 & 4

Continued from prior post…

Stop 3: Warren, Ohio, Aug 4-7. My mom, sister and niece had joined me in Baltimore and they participated in some of the Goucher weekend festivities, and then we all drove back together to Ohio on Monday, Aug 4.

That evening, we were to visit my uncle who lives out in the countryside near where I grew up (in northern Trumbull County – land of farms and the Amish). My sister and I were both exhausted and didn’t want to go, especially after a five-hour road trip from Baltimore. But we all went, and I was so happy that I did. The purpose of the visit was to see family and to fish. My aunt and uncle have a large garden, a fenced pasture where my uncle currently keeps two small calves that he will either have butchered or sell, and a well-stocked pond. My uncle reminds me of my grandfather as I knew him: gentle, patient, observant, and in tune with the ecosystem of his land.

I had never fished. My uncle just kept making the rounds, baiting everyone’s hooks (I quickly became brave enough to do it myself with worms, but the maggots still kind of grossed me out), and I sat and watched the surface of the pond. It turned out to be the best way to relax after nearly five days of non-stop socializing and travel. We were there before dusk, and stayed until the sun dropped below the horizon. I’ve been realizing lately how much I miss the land and space of my childhood, and being closer to nature in general. This was a great fix: sitting around a pond, talking and learning about fishing, listening to the crickets, watching the birds and bats, and watching the sun set over the fields. I caught two small blue gills and a 21” catfish, which were all thrown back…for now. Until my uncle and aunt host their next fish fry.

The remainder of my Ohio visit included a birthday excursion (my entire family is Leo) to see the Broadway touring show of Mamma Mia (which I wrote about previously), a party that I hosted for my local friends, and cleaning out my mother’s garage!

It was great to see old friends on Wednesday night: Chris, Karyn & their daughter Emma (who is 3 and I met for the first time); Becky, Doug & their kids; Barb, Melinda, Lana, Eric, and Christine. It is always difficult to find the time to see friends when I am in Ohio, so I was especially grateful that so many of them made the effort to drive in on a weeknight from Cleveland and Akron.

My sister and I planned to tag-team my mom, and on Thursday the three of us cleaned out her garage, the last “problem area” in her home that is currently up for sale. It was a Herculean task, but one day of hard work and trips to recycling and Goodwill gave my mom a garage with double the space and a clutter-free world. She recently confessed, giddily, that she left her garage door open the other day while she was at home and was not ashamed.

My visit ended with my 7-year-old niece yelling out the car window, as they drove away that evening, “Stay here forever; don’t leave” over and over again. It is difficult to part ways at times.

Stop 4: New York City & Noroton Heights, CT, Aug 8-10. I had an early-morning flight to NYC on Friday. I hadn’t been back to New York since M. and I briefly lived outside of the city two and a half years ago (a 10-week sublet in Hastings-on-Hudson, before we decided to move back to California where all our furniture and belongings still lived). I dropped off my luggage at my friend C.’s office near Astor Place, and hit the pavement.

I am always happy to just roam around the city, walking, and getting on and off the subway. I walked up Broadway, stopped at Strand Books (obligatory), and then headed to museum mile with the idea that I visit at least one museum. I hadn’t been to the Guggenheim in a long time, but upon seeing the mass of people standing in line inside, I quickly retreated and continued my walk up 5th Ave.

The National Academy Museum was currently hosting their 183rd Annual: An Invitational Exhibition of Contemporary American Art. Originally the home of a railroad magnate, this museum is more intimate in scale and, with my background in American art history, I have always enjoyed my visits there. The galleries are on the 2nd and 4th floors and consist of a series of small and large rooms, which I primarily had to myself. My favorite piece was “Self Portrait with Men in Hats 2007” (below) by Julie Heffernan, and seeing it was worth the visit.

I met my friend M.C. that evening for dinner. He has an amazing rent-controlled apartment in Hell’s Kitchen, complete with views of the mid-town skyline. M. is a member of my Goucher class who is successfully building a career in the greening of the arts (read this recent article he wrote on the greening of Broadway). He, his friend J. and I shared a great bottle of wine and small plates at Xai Xai, a South-African wine bar.

On Saturday, I spent a wonderful day with my friends C. & T. just kicking around in CT (it was a much-needed low-key day!). T. cooked for us in the evening; he grilled clams and halibut, seasoned with fresh herbs from their garden, and it was phenomenal. We have always bonded over our mutual love of cheese and wine, and our meals together are always memorable, delicious, and inevitably end with a few-too-many empty wine bottles.

Sunday morning was equally fabulous: coffee, bagels, and the Sunday Times on the deck, in the company of wonderful friends.

And then I came home.

 

whirlwind tour, stops 1 & 2

I recently returned home after an 11-day whirlwind tour of friends and family. Here are some of my impressions from that trip…hmmm, many of them involve food. When I travel, I tend to write down what I eat if I don’t have time to journal, and that triggers memories of who I was with, how I was feeling, and the general ambience of the place.

Stop 1: Madison, WI, July 31-Aug 1. My friends J. & B. welcomed their first baby this summer. This stop on the tour was chance to see some of my best friends and meet beautiful T., my newest “niece” (J. and I are “sisters” – personification of the adage “friends are the family you choose for yourself”). I’ve been to Madison before, and love the beauty of the city – the capitol, the farmer’s markets and interesting shops, the college town – but this visit was all about meeting T. and spending time with her parents. We stayed in and had great pizza and local beer, talked, and took turns holding and kissing T. I was sad to leave after only one day, and look forward to spending a longer weekend with them in Madison again soon.

Interesting note: When I stopped at a chain coffee shop on my way into Madison, I noticed that there were no reduced-fat pastries or healthy food options, which was kind of surprising for our era, even though WI has not exactly been high on the “fit” population list. This was also true in the Milwaukee airport, as well as in Baltimore. After living in CA, I’ve gotten spoiled by not having to search very far for healthy food.

Stop 2: Baltimore/Towson, MD, Aug 1-4. For the last three summers, I’ve spent two weeks at Goucher College for an intensive course for my Master’s degree in Arts Administration. The fourth summer is usually major paper defense and graduation – and all members of my class graduated except me. I took a leave of absence and chose to work on my paper this year instead, but couldn’t imagine not being there as my classmates, whom I’ve become bonded to, finish their degrees.

As the only person who lives locally, my classmate N. has hosted a crab feed for our class the past three years, and this year was the biggest yet because everyone’s family was along. N. and her fiancé went over the top and were hosts extraordinaire. They cooked all the food, ordered two bushels of crabs, rented a tent for the back yard and made everyone, from nieces to parents to children to significant others, feel welcome. Any party where you can dump your food on the table and have at it with a mallet and your bare hands is a good party. And this was the first year that we were instructed to drink Natty Boh (National Bohemian) beer with our crabs – a Baltimore staple.

It was strange to part ways with my classmates knowing that it is not likely that we will all be together again in one place (the ten of us are from California, Washington, Florida, Texas, Ohio, New York, Maryland, and Barbados). But many of us hope to meet at the Americans for the Arts national conference in Seattle next year, which would be a happy reunion.

Continued in next post, whirlwind tour, stops 3 & 4. And read here for minor adventures in rental cars during stops 1 & 2.

 

rental cars

In the past four days, I’ve driven two different rental cars.

The first was in Milwaukee at 6am after a red-eye flight from San Francisco. The overly chipper rental agent (20-something white boy, probably in his first job) said that even though I insisted I wanted just the economy car, I could look at some of my upgrade options when I got to the lot. When I arrived to peruse the line-up of my options, I chose the smallest car (a new Toyota Yaris that was actually pretty fun to drive). The lot guy was still trying to sell me on taking an upgrade, and demonstrated the car’s shortcomings by opening the driver’s door, and, while looking up at me sadly, he laboriously, slowly, hand-cranked the window down. He shook his head and said, “No power options.” I told him that I could survive for a day without power windows.

When I flew into Washington, D.C. the next day, I approached the car rental counter ready to refuse upgrades. After I told the rental agent (40/50-something black guy, obviously bored) that I didn’t need any of the options that he was offering me, he stopped, smiled flirtatiously and said “You don’t even need me.” I replied, “Oh, but I do need you.” He laughed, paused, and said “I know which car I’m giving to you. You need something stylin.”

Yes, stylin. He said Mitsubishi something and winked at me. I made my way to the lot and found that it was an Eclipse. A shiny black Eclipse. I lugged my bag into the trunk, and then got into the car. I couldn’t even see out of it because the seats are so low-slung. I put my seat up as high as I could, and made my way through the city. I felt fairly ridiculous – it may not be the most extravagant sports coupe, but it is enough of a departure from my own car “identity” that I felt conspicuous. My friend S.H. verified that by laughing pretty hard when she saw me driving the car…