Wednesday, December 17, 2008

Goodnight, Sweet Prince

There is something to be said about knowing that yours is the last voice to be heard before someone goes to sleep. It's one thing when it's because the person is lying there right next to you. And, while it's quite comforting to know that your children hearing "I love you" whispered in their ears as their sleep heads hit the pillow, it's somewhat obligatory.

But it's something altogether when another adult, who could, theoretically, choose darn near anyone else's words to be the last before another day choose to hear what you have to say before going to bed.

I used to think that being awoken to, "you look like an angel when you sleep" was an amazing thing to hear in bed, but I think I'm changing my mind about that. See, you almost have to say something to the person lying next to you in the morning that is complimentary, especially if you ever want them to wake up in your bed again.

But to know, that, regardless of distance, circumstances, etc, that another person is making the effort to make sure to speak to you, as if the day isn't over without one last "good night", even though the conversation can be simple and mundane, but it isn't enough to just recap the day silently to yourself, means something.

When you get to end the day with a warm feeling and a smile knowing someone else cares, and when the simple salutation you hear from his voice makes a horrible day seem not so bad, well, that's special.

Buona notte, il mio principe delle biciclette e del mare. Sognerò di voi una volta di più.

Monday, December 15, 2008

A Tale of Two Aarons

Today marks the 17th year since my dear friend, Aaron Cass, took his last breath and graced the earth. It was a day that changed my life forever - I've never been the same since. From major life events, to how I approach the loved ones in my life to even my "life's mission", 17 years ago, his death shook me to the core.

Yet, strangely, it feels like just moments ago that I heard the news from Chris Weatherup that Aaron was dead, standing there in the Commons at Fox Lane High School, dropping my backpack. It seems like only the other day that I spoke with Aaron on the phone, letting him know that I got into Oberlin thanks to "early decision," and that I was furious that he wasn't going to Madrigal Dinner because he was working at Lechter's instead. Wasn't it just a couple of months ago that we were at Eric Zipkin's party when Mike Columbo took that fateful fall, and you had just arrived? After all, just this April you and I danced your first real dance to "In Your Eyes" at my Junior Prom. Oh, and Aaron, by the way, that was the night that I realized my crush on Josh was long gone, and it was you that I really had developed feelings for. I remember the moment - the exact moment - when that realization dawned on me. We had just dropped Josh off, and we were sitting in your car on Upper Shad Road trying to figure out what to do next. You were trying to think of things to say to Josh to get him to "notice" me, and I just kept thinking to myself, "Why bother?" But I didn't dare tell you why.

How life has changed, Aaron! It's remarkable. Now, I'll never get to tell you to your face. Which is why my life was never the same. You see, that fear that I had that night in April 1991, and all those nights subsequent to December 15, (ironically, though, save the day that you died, and had you lived only hours later, you would have seen I'd finally built the courage to tell you how I really felt), had subsided. I have a daughter, who knows very well who she is named after - half Ari, half you - and knows what an amazing person you were. She knows that she, her brother and I have a guardian "paladin" watching over us, illuminating our way.

As I write this, though, I cannot help but smile, in that snarky way that I have, though, at the irony.

On the one hand, I reflect upon your passing, and your absence in my life.

Yet, on the other hand, I see another Aaron in my life, to whom I remarked this weekend, that, really, outside of camp and specific instances, when mentioning the name "Aaron," it was only you to whom I referred. I never really had to use your last name. I just had to say, "Aaron," and people knew about whom I was speaking.

I've had to reprogram myself, however, not attach your face, exclusively, to the letters A-a-r-o-n. Isn't that strange? 17 years of programming to undo. You would think it would have been difficult to do - confusing, somewhat painful - but it's not. In a strange, cosmic way, it even makes sense. And I have to think that, perhaps, part of you is proud of me. I'm never going to be able to "move on" from you, Aaron. You've had too great an impact in my life. I've never really had to let go of you, either, because I've always felt your presence with me. From the weeks and months after your death, when you'd appear to me in dreams that were more real than the day-to-day - when I could practically feel you next to me, and waking felt like the dream itself, to coming to in the ambulance after what should have been my fatal car accident to see you holding my hand to the day that Ariella was born and Orion guided the way to the hospital and remained hovering overhead, even when, based on the movements of the constellation, Orion shouldn't have been there anymore.

I'm finding, however, that your name is no longer just your name. That it's not just you that brings a smile to my face when I hear that letter combination. That I want to talk to another that has your name. And that I will never make the mistake of being too shy to express how I really feel with Aaron because of how I masked myself with you, Aaron.

I guess it kind of makes you "Classic" Aaron, and the other "New" Aaron, or visa versa. Or "Regular Aaron" and the other "Cherry Aaron," or something like that.

But, lest you think as time passes, and the name "Aaron" no longer applies to you, do not be fooled. When my lips form the name, "Aaron", and my eyes well up in sorrow, my voice cracks, and I'm overwhelmed with the feeling that there will always be something missing deep in my heart and my life, it's you. Whenever the song "In Your Eyes" is played, or I hear anything about "The Terminator" or a paladin, I sip on a chocolate shake with jimmies, see cheese balls, whenever I drive through Mt Kisco, route 22 in Pawling, whenever I try my best to make it through hearing "Silent Night" or try to sing "Amazing Grace" and not give into the overwhelming need to whelp and keen instead of perform, and the name, "Aaron" enters my thoughts, it's you. And you are missed. And you are there. And you are remembered so fondly.

Thursday, December 11, 2008

Now is the time for giving... and FORgiving...

This week has been a strange week. Within a 48-hour period, I had to have 2 incredibly awkward conversations, one with someone I love very much and never wanted to hurt, but because of lack of disclosure on their part, it turns out I really dealt a deep blow to unintentionally, I (well, my children) had a confrontation with the neighbor from hell who attacked my children for playing in the back and mistakenly stepping foot on his newly purchased parking area (no one told us, and the former owner never had issue with it... ), a blackout that caused us to huddle up with our other neighbors, who welcomed us with open arms, and the opportunity to renew a couple of friendships and relationships that had begun to fade into the distance otherwise known as time.

Perhaps it's the weather, though I'm THRILLED it's not snowing (for a number of reasons, one of which is childish and petty, but it makes me giggle, so there, ), but I'm feeling sluggish, physically, and therefore, rather contemplative. Yes, it's Rica's pontification hour. But I know y'all love it because I tend to say the same things you think out loud, unashamed.

As "Jeans" told me, one of the things that makes me so darned lovable is that I'm "crazy". Mind you, at first, I was appalled and shocked. I expected that of a lesser man, and someone who certainly would know the definition of "crazy", but from "Jeans"? NEVER! I thought he was being defensive and "poopy" because of some transitions that he has to make with regards to our friendship. But he explained further - it's because I'm "crazy" enough to blurt out what's really on my mind. That I don't really have a "censor" button when it comes to being open and honest. And that I will ask questions that no one would ever dare ask another person. So I'm "crazy" in the sense that you never know what to expect, and that I always keep you on your toes. That is what's so appealing - everyday is an adventure with me.

Enough about what makes me so darned irresistable, though, that's "a subject upon which I could discourse for hours... "

I do find this time of year especially brings it out in me. Last year, in one instance, there was a very pressing reason why I kind of had to force that, and, perhaps because it was possibly one of the ONLY times that there were some things that I couldn't blurt out, it was forced, and therefore doomed to fail. (Although, I think most people had their money against me on that one from the get-go many moons before the reconcilliation[s].) This instinct I have to sort these things out this time of year is due to one part end of the year/beginning of the next, one part sentimentality after giving "thanks" on Thanksgiving and approaching the holiday season, and a double dose of the pending anniversary of the death of Aaron Cass, (as well as the anniversary of a couple of other life-changing moments in my life, one of which will be new this year, but I have a few more weeks to dread that, so why start now?).

The point is, I think I've decided to go "all in" this year. Instead of letting these matters just trickle into my head randomly, I'm throwing my hat in the ring to finally address all those 800-pound gorillas in my life with the people who are feeding those primates bananas and keeping them around. I have too much to look forward to at the moment to let those nagging questions and regrets get in my way. For once, I'd like to only focus on 1-3 major life issues at a time, instead of 17+ at any given moment in a day.

In a sense, I'm "retiring". I should receive a financial pension for the hours of worry and self-punishment I've inflicted over the years.

But, no. So, consider yourself warned, or consider this your opportunity. You may not expect it, but like the Holy Inquisition, I may show up on your doorstep, so to speak, with a question or an awkward request for a conversation. If there are any open issues that we have, any feelings that weren't addressed, any words you've ever wanted to say, or share, experiences that you've wanted to discuss, my door is open. And, unlike Lucy, I won't charge you a nickel or pull the ball out from under you at the last minute to watch you fall on your butt. There will be no, "the words I believe you are looking for are, 'good grief'." If you really know me, you should know me well enough that, while I can be "spirited", I am not a grudge holder. While I may remember wrongs, I don't hold them against you. I just wait until it's the right time, for you or for me, to lay those cards on the table and talk about them.

I've surprised many people with that ability. And that's something I'm not going to stop.

So, there it is. When the holiday shopping is done, and you start doing that annual, "Top 10 of Things to Do before the year is over/Doozies of the past year", just add to the list, "resolve anything that I've got going on with Rica so we can all be in a better place next year."

It's out there, it's as personal an invitation as I could get out there without violating federal laws and postal regulations, so there it is.

I feel better already, don't you?

(And, "Jeans", this is like a band-aid - accept it fast, and it will hurt less. I'm sorry, but, yes, sometimes some hair and flesh get ripped off along with the band-aid, but I never knew they were so attached. I am so, so sorry to have hurt you.)

Monday, December 8, 2008

Jack Frost can’t keep ME down! LOL!

Again, apologies for my recent online absence - issues with the wireless, and time has been otherwise occupied... kids, house, among other things...

It's funny when doors open and close. On days like the past couple of days, when the weather is biting cold, and just touching the doorknob hurts your fingertips, you dread opening doors. You'll get a blast of bitter wind in your face, freezing every ounce of you (despite layer upon layer), and all too often, in weather like this, you choose to retreat back into the house. Getting the mail, picking up milk, or getting that thing out of the car just isn't worth it. You're better off curled up on the sofa, wrapped up in a blanket, right?

But then, either because the demand is urgent, or the cold, winter winds blasts your door open, you're faced with the immediate need to get out there and, come hell or high water, "gitterdone". And then, you get to celebrate the warmth inside, not hide from the world in it.

Of course, once that door is open, you have to close it - either way - to keep yourself warm while you hide inside, or to keep the heat inside for when you return.

On several levels, I've done both in the past couple of months, nay, weeks - retreat from the cold, and face it. Open doors, and close them.

One front, particularly, has been rather trying, but I've learned a lot from doing it. They are open and closed doors that, for years, have needed to be sealed shut behind me as I open the next.

Closing doors, however, can be just as painful, especially when the winds are strong, and trying to force the door back open. And, when you know, that what's on the other side will, likely, no longer be there anymore. But you have to do it. Because, if it could blow away that easily, it wasn't there to stay.

Well, here's what I have to say on the matter. I'm sad, and relieved, that I'm closing one of these doors. And sealing it shut. And I'm even more relieved, and excited, about opening another - even in this bitter cold, and knowing there's quite some distance to cross in order to reach the final destination. (Of course, it's even better when I just have to open the door to welcome them inside).

That's about as close as I can get to being "specific" at the moment.

Sunday, November 16, 2008

Ok, guys... help me understand...

I've been told, and always felt, that I understood the way that men think better than how women think. I totally side with guys when they say, "I don't understand women." I don't understand them either. Hence the reason I'd make a terrible lesbian. In general, when dealing with relationships with other women, I find myself, too often, pursing my lips, shaking my head, wondering what the hell they were thinking.

I also think that's what's made me somewhat off-putting to guys, as well. I don't think that they realize that I think, and expect, more along the lines of another "guy," and they either think I'm playing a game (pretending to understand them, as some female passive-aggressive mindplay) or something else.

Anyhoo... sadly, because I'm not actually a man, there are still some aspects of the masculine mind that baffle me.

So can someone please "translate" for me?

1) Pulling pig tail behavior. Also known as the "Come here, come here, come here.... Get away, get away, get away" tactic... tactic to achieve what? I don't know. What's the deal? Pull the pig tail, disappear, don't explain, but continue the behavior. When directly asked, "what do you want?", you get nothing in return. WHY DO YOU DO THAT? I'm not just venting here, I'd earnestly like to know the answer. Please?

2) Guy and a girl are in a relationship. There is a tremendous amount of love between them, but for various reasons, it can't be. Both parties accept that, so the "elephant in the room" is rarely discussed - particularly by the guy - because everyone knows the answer. So the topic is avoided. No exchange of "I love yous" ever take place. Out of the blue, upon goodbye, guy gives girl a CD, and says, "Listen to this. Now. On your way home." Girl puts in CD, and it is FILLED with love songs, some nearly quoting every thought in her mind, others with what she has suspected he's felt this whole time, but was never voiced. Very moving stuff. Is this somehow a declaration? Or a coincidence and a case of girl trying to read into it? And if girl approaches guy about it, will he bullshit his way out of it or be honest? And, if he bullshits his way out of it, is it because he wanted to say all that, but then realizes his hand was caught in the cookie jar? Or what?

3) Why is it that good guys always feel that they finish last, so they entertain the notion of swinging to the polar opposite, instead of just toughening up a tad bit without venturing into the a-hole arena?

4) Why be ashamed of being a good guy in the first place? And why don't you understand that women are turned on by confidence - and you can be a confident good guy without being cocky?

5) Why is it that you guys, seriously, can never remember to put down the toilet seat?

I'm sure this won't be the last ponderance of male behavior that I'll post, but I had to get that out of my system. Some of these questions have been stuck in my head for years, some for minutes.

Monday, November 3, 2008

The Rainbow Connection

Earlier today, I had a lengthy chat with a friend of mine regarding some folks that we know, and the idea of chasing rainbows came up. We've all been guilty of it at one point in our lives or another.

There is that individual, that goal, that job, that home, that dream that we would be willing to set everything aside for to reach it. And yet, it's always out of reach.

I'm not talking about those dreams that are ultimately attainable, though. I'm talking about those things, or people, that are 100%, absolutely, unattainable. While it breaks my heart to confess, I will never be Mrs. Johnny Depp. But, when I was 16, that didn't stop me from covering notebooks with his pictures, learning everything that there was to learn about him and watching every episode of "21 Jump Street" ad nauseum.

But once we turn from adolescent to adult, the notion of chasing rainbows, beyond day dreams and fantasy, is recognized as just that - chasing an illusion. And, more often than not, a self-deluded one. That's not to say it's an unhealthy exercise to chase a rainbow now and then, but at some point, a rational adult will recognize that the thrill is in the chase, and that rainbows are endless.

Back to the conversation... it seems that someone that we know, that one of us cares about (moreso, at least than the other), is determined to land that pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. However, we both, and others, know that should they ever find the end of that rainbow, they will be disillusioned with the lump of coal they will find as their "treasure".

Call me Ishmael, but there are some rainbows that are never meant to be caught. And, at the end of the day, when you end up broken and miserable without a speck of spectrum in your fingers, but just damp air and blisters, if you chase that rainbow long and far enough, you'll leave behind anyone that you could turn to for support, commiseration, etc.

The land of Oz was just the dream of a small Kansas girl. And the answer was always always right under her nose, she just never appreciated it.

I'd say of most of my friends, I am one of the guiltiest of them all when it comes to being one of those lovers, the dreamers and, well, me, to quote a wise, old frog. So I don't speak from pure observation, but from experience.

The question is, how many clouds of your own mind do you have to fall from before you realize that the rainbow is merely a figment of the imagination?

Perhaps that's the lesson. You have to fall, or suffer a concussion in a storm to be able to awaken from the technicolor day dreams to see what reality is, and what dreams and goals await for you in the real world. Not in the collection of figments of your imagination, or well-lit raindrops. The Wizard is merely a rainmaker hidden behind grand mystery and a curtain. The magical Scarecrow is just a farm hand.

And life really is just as wonderful as the fantasy, if you have the brains, the heart, the home and da noive to see it. It's time to come out of the daze of that fall in the tornado. There are people around you waiting for you to come out of it, waiting with open arms. You don't need the rainbow, or what's on the other side. Leave that to the muppets.