Summer at Home: The Gifts I Will Give My Children

Music: Feist

The summer started with a bang, coming home in the middle of the semester to finish answering a bunch of health questions and take over the house because my mother would be leaving for two months to handle the arrangements of my grandfather’s death. The health concerns were cleared by the beginning of May after some other procedures and a third biopsy. I mourned my grandfather the best way I knew how: I prayed, I remembered, I selected the good memories and ran them through my mind, like images on a movie reel, and made conscious notes-to-self of lessons I never wanted to forget, of things I wanted to teach my children. Of all my family members, he is the one that was the closest to a lovable quirky caricature – stubborn beyond reason, hard-working beyond exhaustion, repetitive and paranoid after living through WWI, WWII, and the Cold War, uniquely Russian in many ways. He bought me my first cat, he taught me how to know when a squash was ready to be eaten, where mushrooms grew in the forest, how to properly insulate a greenhouse, and how much sugar to put into the making of blackberry jam. He also taught me how to argue, how to resist, how to yell, which are skills that, despite their negative connotation, have been and will surely continue to be, useful. He was the only grandfather I’ve known and following his stoic example, I dealt with his death as a fact, not as a calamity. His life had been long and interesting, and I was here, to remember it and tell it for him.

In the middle of all the things that fell apart during those spring months, in the middle of sleepless nights and exhausted mornings, I needed to keep my body moving and my mind alive. As always, running was the lifting force, both physically and emotionally. In its constancy and predictability running makes me feel at ease in what is really a furious battle against myself, mind over body, soul over mind. I run against all the enemies I can see in my own mind, all the ones I imagine, and all the ones I’m trying to forget. A George Sheehan quote comes to mind, "On the roads, I can see truth revealed whole without thought or reason. There I experience the sudden understanding that comes unasked, unbidden. I simply rest, rest within myself, rest within the pure rhythm of my running. And I wait." But, surprisingly, biking did as much of this for me as running. Having just learned how to bike (Thanks Nancy!), I got home, almost immediatly bought a bike, and rode it every single day for the rest of my months at home. The things running would exhaust and wear down, biking would let float up and refresh, even in the moments of my most furious pedaling. I also convinced by father to run a couple of 5k events with me, which we both grew to love. You’re surrounded by hundreds of people at 7am, running simultaneously with them and alone – it’s cathartic, really! In the second race, I placed fourth in my age group, but it was not the ranking that was the most rewarding. After the run, you go to breakfast with strangers, you are showered with water by the fire truck that comes out specially for the event and splashes kids in the middle of the street, and it doesn’t matter who finished when because everyone is tired and everyone is happy they did it. It’s an incredible way to start a Sunday!

Continuing my pursuit of energy-consuming activities, I managed to convince Jason and Seb to go kayaking one day, in what proved to be a hilarious adventure [see the pictures]. More importantly, I got into trap shooting. Yes, with a shotgun. Yes, Natalia Martinez with a 12-gage shotgun. I only shoot trap, not skeet, and I find the concentration required to shoot the little flying orange ball – that moment of silence when you just have to learn to feel when you should shoot – to be exhilarating! I also was lucky enough to meet Steve, who is one of the kindest human beings I’ve ever had the pleasure of encountering. Steve is a sixty-something incredible shooter with a white mustache and a loud laugh who volunteers to teach people on the last Saturday of every month. Not only did he lend me his shotgun twice, he also gave me shells, met me in the middle of the week, and generally was as helpful as he was genuine and funny. It takes time to improve, especially for someone as hand-eye-coordination challenged as I am, but it was about time I did things because I liked them, even if I was not good at them! So I’ve improved, enjoyed the process, and taken Seb and Joanna to learn. In short, I’ve had fun with it and, in not having an intense, perfectionist attitude, have been rewarded.

Also, accompanied by my good friend Allison, I ice-skated almost every Thursday. Upon discovering the inferior quality of the funnel cake at the ice rink, Alli and I also decided to make our own. I cannot speak for Alli, but I actually got to feel quite comfortable on the ice. On one occasion, when I went alone, I saw a father and a daughter come in. It was obviously a treat for her and he sat in the stands and watched her as she slowly made her way along the boards. I skated several times past her and offered to help. We spent the rest of my time skating, hand in hand, falling on each other the several times she tripped, trying to keep a rhythm she could follow. She was scared of falling and I remembered that feeling all too well. I knew what it was like to need a hand to hold, I remembered a bit too vividly the safety of that other body following yours. It didn’t matter that I wasn’t doing any skating of my own, or practicing the things that Sasha had taught me [keeping my feet straight, lifting my back leg straight up, etc]. She needed me more than I needed to improve. We met the week after for another couple of laps, and when we got off the ice, her dad came up to me and thanked me in Spanish for helping his daughter. It really had not been a great effort on my part, as I would have come that day anyway, but he reminded me so much of my own father, his expression was so simple and happy, that I felt my eyes watering as I shook his hand and assured him, for the 10th time, that there were no thanks needed. I guess it kind of felt like an odd circle, a moment frozen in time: I had just helped myself, I had just made my own father happy in such a simple, pure way.

Interestingly enough [and ironically in some ways], I also climbed this summer. “A lot” would be a gross exaggeration, but enough to understand it much better, to respect the skill and endurance involved, and appreciate the unquestioning kindness of the people I met. My only problem is that it is not an activity one can do alone. My most memorable snapshot? There I was, on that damn problem again, the one with the protruding lip at the top. I had managed to get up to it every time, but then, I was supposed to hook my left foot up, out, and around, so it would be above my head and on top of this piece of horizontal wall. Then one hand was supposed to reach out and grab a hold, while the other elbow pushed off and, after a moment in mid air, I ended up on top of the diagonal slant. This had yet to happen. After many attempts, sore fingertips, pants covered in chalk, there came a moment where, dangling from one arm, I hoisted my leg up, moving my hand at the same time. It was a single motion that seemed to come from somewhere outside of my tired body. And there I was, on top, three moves away from finishing. My calves were shaking and I was seriously sweating, but when I came down, everyone at the gym was looking at me. The guy at the front desk, who had remembered my name from the last time, clapped and laughed, the intensely buff nurse I’d seen almost every time walked over to tell me how she had been right in telling me I could do it, and the group of guys who had gotten there thirty minutes earlier and had seen me struggle the entire time, smiled and jokingly said, “Finally!” I shook my head, laughed with them all, and said, “It was about time!!” And yea, it was about time, for plenty of things. It was great to be welcomed by people whose names I didn’t even know, to be helped and guided in a task I was clearly new at, to not be asked why or what or how come. Tara was an incredible belay partner and later in the summer, Carly jumped up to accompany me, and Masha even trusted me enough to let me teach her how to belay! I went on to purchase my own shoes and now, as I head off to Paris, I’ll be borrowing a harness for my expeditions with the Paris Rock Climbing Meetup Group. Who would’ve thought!?

Aside from this life of mediocre exploration, I tried to read as much as possible and focused on my bone marrow objectives. I ran a drive at University School [my high school] and worked with another group to organize a series of events to target Hispanics in my county. This group was particularly dysfunctional, so the events have yet to happen, but in the process I found myself placed on the Board of Directors of a local Non-Profit, giving presentations about the importance of registering for the registry and the power of a single individual to save another. It felt good to have found something I truly care about, not just a cause I think is interesting or would love to contribute to; this is something I connect with, I feel with.

Let’s also not underestimate the positive effect that work can have on clearing a mind. I was interning at an incredible asset management firm, where the work was almost as interesting as the people were wonderful [which is to say, both were great!]. To my own surprise, I found the research I did interesting and wished I had had more time to continue the projects I didn’t get to finish. And the people, especially Donna, brightened every day, without fail. I’m still not sure how much finance and I have in common in terms of a long-term career, but I was pleased to find that I genuinely enjoyed certain aspects of it.

Three of the other highlights of my summer months were Becky’s visit, my frequent seeing of Carly, and the dancing Marcelo took me on. Becky flew down from Washington and I was more than happy to host her, take her around, tan…her company added a much need component of wit, humor and intelligent conversation to those first weeks of summer! In all, it was a great weekend of driving, tanning, exploring [need I remind her of the hospital parking lot tour?]. I also had the pleasure of seeing Carly several times while she was down here from Boston, to go to the beach and catch up, hear about Senegal, plan ahead, etc. Aside from great conversations, great reminiscing, and even greater looking ahead, Carly took me on my first motorized boat ride. There we were – Carly, her father, and I – on the intercostal, waving to the other boats, sipping margaritas, and to my own surprise, I felt at home in the twilight and on the waves. Where has this been all my life? How stupid I’ve been, afraid of water, afraid of boats! I almost smacked myself but didn’t want to ruin the afternoon. On the dancing, not much can be said, other than it was an incredible series of nonstop hours where my mind cleared and my body exhaled and I let my soul take over and feel the music.

On a bad note, I had a massive car accident on the highway, which will only be mentioned briefly. In short, I spun in a circle across three lanes of Miami highway traffic, before I crashed, first with the front, then with the entire driver's side against the concrete barrier. And yes, the other idiot just drove away. And yes, the car was totaled completely. Miraculously, all I had were burns from the airbags, a spinning head, shaking hands, and another problem to add to the running list of the last couple of months. Allie drove to sit me with while I shook on the curb and some incredibly nice guy stopped and called the police and explained that I wasn't driving with excessive speed and that some crazy man had swerved behind me.

Side note: I’ve learned this summer that I love asparagus and that I make really good tuna steaks.

Then I went off to China. And on August 20th, I went straight from the airport to Key Largo, driving into the night and seemingly away from civilization. This was a much-needed vacation for both my parents, who were emotionally and physically exhausted for different reasons. I was just happy to be by the water again. Our week in the Keys can be summarized as follows:

a.) We ate incredible food. I had amazing Dolphin, Yellowtail Snapper, and Grouper and discovered how much I do love a well-cooked fish!

b.) We slept. A lot. And I read, a lot.

c.) I took my parents canoeing, trying hard to remember my Outward Bound skills and wondering, for the nth time this summer, how I became the one showing people how to do things!

d.) We saw pictures of Fidel and Hemingway. Everywhere. The former we dismissed; the latter we discussed. I admire certain aspects of his life, though I only like several of his works and think he was crazy politically.

e.) I convinced my father we should snorkel and now we’re both hooked! The coral reef was beautiful, first of all. More importantly, the world is so quiet underwater, everything is still, at peace. To see your hands underwater is to see them anew – everything is floating, held in time and space. It was an incredible discovery for me, who has always been afraid of ocean water, of fish, sharks, giant squid, imaginary beasts, tidal waves, and anything else that could possibly be hidden under those waves and/or written about in a Jules Verne novel. I did wonder why my fins were neon green – would this not make it more likely for the animals I had spent years being afraid of to…well, devour me? There’s only one person I could ask who wouldn’t laugh at me, so I kept this question to myself. Also, apparently sharks have very bad vision.

f.) I wrote a lot in Spanish. Things just sound better in this language, especially when there’s a feeling hidden in your words. El anochecer. La marea. El abrir y cerrar de las puertas. My mouth moves in a different way, my lungs exhale differently when I speak Spanish. I was happy to get that feeling back, I hadn’t written that way in a while.

And now I’m heading off to Paris, still half broken and half lost, but half alive and half smiling [Yes, that’s four halves…follow the idea, not the math], to work, to learn, to find, to wonder!