Monday, June 18, 2012

Strolling Down Memory Lane


An alternative title for this post would be "Taking it to the Streets," because that's what Joey and I have doing lately in the City Elite (Baby Jogger) stroller.  Walking, walking and more walking in the neighborhood, made more special for me because I realize how soon it will be that he's too big for the stroller and I'll have to park it once and for all.

As he and I make tracks all over the neighborhood, I'm reminded so poignantly of the many, many strolls J.P. and I took together the first 2 + years of his life, until he got too big for the stroller.  Every day, Joey and I are re-tracing the walks J.P. and I took a lifetime ago to Bongo Java, La Fiesta (a.k.a. Chago's Cantina), Belmont U, Mafioza's, Kim and Hal's house and around and around our block.  Those were such special, one-on-one times I shared with J.P. and now, this time around, I'm sharing them with Joey.

I feel so lucky to return to that sacred, peaceful and uncomplicated place, as I stroll through the neighborhood with my son.  It's hard to describe, but I feel so content, so happy, when I gaze down at Joey as we walk, asleep in the City Elite.  It's such a controlled environment - one I can control - and I feel like he's safe, like I can keep him safe.  And, my God, that feeling is so very fleeting, so hard to hold onto before it slips through my fingers and is gone, leaving me helplessly grasping for it.  Soon enough, as with J.P., there will be school, play dates and birthday parties.

But for now, for an all too brief interlude of time, there are Saturday afternoon walks to Mafioza's, where I drink a couple of beers and read the New Yorker while Joey sleeps contentedly in the City Elite (though I might point out that 3 years ago I was reading the actual magazine and now I'm reading the magazine on my iPad).  There are nighttime walks (like tonight, after we put J.P. to bed) to Bongo Java, after which I enjoy a "Mood Elevator" as we take in the sights on Belmont Boulevard as we walk home.  There are other nighttime walks around an ever expanding block near our house, as I listen to random selections of music via the Spotify App on my iPhone (3 years ago, I was listening to downloaded music on my iPod).

In some ways - in many ways, actually, I wish these times could last forever.



  

Sunday, June 17, 2012

Singing in the Rain



Friday night, after dinner, J.P. and I drove down to Chago's Cantina on Belmont Boulevard to see our friend, Meghan, who used to work at Bongo Java before she graduated from Belmont U. I had seen her earlier in the day, when she told me she was picking up a few shifts waiting on tables this summer before she resumes her teaching job this fall.

It was raining hard as we parked on Belmont Boulevard, a few doors down from the restaurant. Laughing, we ran hand-in-hand up the sidewalk and ducked into Chago's. We stopped to say hello to Chad - the owner - who always takes good care of us when we heat there. When J.P. saw Meghan, he ran up to her from behind and said, "hey!" She turned, saw him and beamed as she picked him up in a bear hug.

As hard as it is for us when our longtime friends from Bongo Java move on, it's such a treat to see them again. To a person, they mean so much to J.P. (and to me, too, because they've been such a part of his life every weekend and many nights after dinner, when we stop in to say hello). We said our goodbyes, then walked out the door, only to find it was raining even harder. I noticed water rushing down beside the curb of Belmont Boulevard, as it tends to do when it rains. There were puddles everywhere. A light bulb went off in my head and I said, "J.P., come on, let's go!"

We ran straight to the first puddle and splashed through it. J.P. squealed in delight. Next, we ran over to the curb, between the parked cars and the sidewalk, and started running through the rushing water. We ran to the corner, in front of the Circle K, then turned around and retraced our steps, running right back up the side of the street, laughing together with every step. I glanced to my left and saw people waiting to be seated at Cha Cha, Chago's and P.M. (3 restaurants on Belmont Boulevard) pointing and laughing right along with us. It was almost like I could read their minds, as each one reflected on a memory of a rainy day when he or she had spashed through puddles with a parent or a child.

I had flashbacks of playing with my sister in the water-filled ditch in front of my mother's house after a hard summer rain.

When we finally got back into my truck to head home, soaked from head to toe, J.P. couldn't stop talking about how much fun we'd had. And I can't stop thinking the same thing, even now.


Wednesday, June 13, 2012

Catching Up

It's a breathtakingly beautiful mid-June morning and I'm sitting on the front deck at Bongo Java, eating a quick breakfast, having just droppped J.P. off at Children's House.  I had a cancellation on my calendar this morning, so I thought I'd steal a few minutes to to get caught up.

I have my earbuds in and Spotify open on my laptop (hands down, one of the best tech innovations of past 5 years for music fans like me).  I'm listening to the Byrds and, for some reason, it's the perfect soundtrack for my morning.  Belmont Boulevard is bustling with activity - pedestrians hurrying to class, appointments or just out for a walk; trucks stopped to deliver food to the restaurant; and cars parked up an down the Boulevard.  Bongo Java is hopping, due to a couple of camps ongoing at Belmont U and orientation for incoming freshman and their parents (I guess August and the start of school isn't really that far away).  Sarah and Chuck are working behind the bar inside, along with a couple of newbies, as well.  Fudgecake, the cat, ambled over to greet me as I sat down, then continued on his way to patrol the sidewalk in front of Bongo Java and the businesses on both sides. 

I'm under attack from a squirrel who is dropping pieces of walnuts all around me, stationed high above in one of the large trees that shades the front deck.  And here comes Fudgecake again, back on the deck to greet people, his morning rounds completed.

In other words, it's a perfect morning and all is right in my world. 

I haven't posted much lately, for a variety of reasons, really.  I've been busy, for one.  Also, from a practical standpoint, it's been difficult to type with a brace on my left hand that only really allowed me to use my index finger on that hand.  I've been a bit down, too, to be honest, due to my hand injury.  I've felt a little sorry for myself, I guess.  Fortunately, though, the broken bone is healing quickly and I'm able to take the brace off from time to time.  Better still, I can type, though not as fast as I normally can.  I can see the light at the end of the tunnel now and I know I'm going to be fine.  My goal, unstated but rather obvious, is to recover enough to play in my softball team's tournament in late July/early August.  I want to be there to defend our title and I want to prove - to others and myself - that an injury like this isn't going to be the end of softball for me.  I'm not ready to give it up.  Not yet, anyway.   

I'm rambling, but it's good to ramble every once in a while. 

Saturday, June 2, 2012

Another Bad Break

A week ago Monday, my softball team (in the Nashville Bar Association league) had its first softball game of the 2012 season, again Bass, Berry & Sims.  We were up 16-10 in the 6th inning, when I covered home plate as one of Bass's players tried to score from third base on an infield hit.  Chris Vlahos made the throw to me from first base and I turned as I caught the ball and tried to sweep my glove across the runner's back as he went by me.  The throw was good enough that I actually got my glove in front of the runner.  Rather than slide or give himself up, he ran through my hand, knocking the ball out of my glove in the process.  The force off the collision bent my gloved hand back and I felt (and heard) a snap, then excruciating pain.

Instantly, I knew my left hand was broken. X-rays at the Baptist Hospital emergency room (where I spent 4 + hours) revealed a spiral fracture of the mid-metacarpal.  I wasn't surprised, but I was very disappointed.  The doctor put a cast on my left hand, extending almost to my elbow.  I drove home and got ready for bed, my left hand throbbing painfully.

As I tried to fall asleep with my hand propped up on pillows, I had a flash back to 15 years ago, when I broke three fingers on my left hand at the Orange Bowl in Miami, Fl.  My prevailing thought was "really, it's 15 years later, you're 45 years old and you're back in this place again?"  I was despondent, as I thought about all the things I wouldn't be able to do and contemplated surgery and months of wearing a cast, followed by occupational therapy 3-4 times/week.

On Wednesday I saw Jane Siegel, M.D., the orthopedic surgeon/hand specialist who performed surgery to repair my broken fingers 15 years ago.  She quickly allayed my fears by assuring me that this injury wasn't nearly as serious as the broken fingers.  She also suggested surgery might not be necessary.  She fitted me for a removable splint, which was huge because it allowed me to take a shower without wearing a plastic bag on my left arm.  I saw Dr. Siegel a week later and she told me as far as surgery goes, the risks of complications outweighed the reward (straightening my middle finger).

So, that's where I am now.  A broken left hand, wearing a splint constantly and unable to pick up my 3 month old son without help.  Oh, and I can't change diapers, either.

This too shall pass, I keep telling myself.  I'll be okay.