Nothern California, specifically Marin County, where we were headquartered, is beautiful - surrounded by mountains and close to the ocean and everything that someone who desperately needed to reconnect with nature could have wanted. So what did we do on our summer vacation? Hung out, watched The Young Ones, listened to the Beatles, looked for shells on a pretty beach by the Pacific Ocean, drank sugar-free lattes, cooked lots of yummy vegetarian dishes, and went to the place I've been waiting to see for thirty-eight years: the most famous streetcorner in the world:
Of course, I'd been to SF before, but my parents (with whom I traveled both times) didn't really feel like indulging my late 20th century hippie sensibility, so we skipped the Haight last time. But we didn't skip it this time, and it was great. Touristy, sure, and certainly there isn't much left over from the summer of love. But the vibe was there, and so was the contact high, for sure.
The main thing, however, is knowing that I was in pretty desperate need of a perspective change, it actually happened. I wasn't expecting it, but luckily, just being in a different place, with a much more mellow attitude and away from all of the limits and barriers and stupid stuff that shrinks your world down to the size of your desk and your dashboard and your cell phone - I was really able to forget about much of the stupidity going on at home, and feel less stressed about the need to change everything right this second.
So without further ado, here are the ten things I learned on my summer vacation. As a tribute to my friendship with Ellen, titles, in all cases, are taken from Beatles songs:
10. I was alone, I took a ride, I didn't know what I would find there: But what I did find was that first and foremost, I am wound WAY too tight. (Ellen: "You're just realizing this?") But it's true. Whether this has been caused by the crapalicious events of the past three years just isn't relevant. What I found out I need is to relax, to laugh, to remember who I am, to be happy - by whatever means necessary.
9. Well, well, well, you're feeling fine: My doctors are not always right. Laying awake one night, very late, after watching Vyv and Neil battle it out on University Challenge, I realized how long it had been since I'd really laughed, really felt like things were going to be OK. And that perhaps the RA and the diabetes and all the other crap I've been dealing with were just symptoms of a broken heart. Not that it would be surprising - there's been a lot of heartbreak in the past few years. But I don't have to keep testing the cracks to see if it's still broken - maybe it's time to let it heal.
8. And I'm not what I appear to be: My doctors are not always wrong. I've got more to deal with than the average bear, and even if the root cause of it all is a broken heart, the symptoms of the other stuff are still there and need to be dealt with in a healthy and constructive way. For the past few years I've been using a lot of energy to cover over when I'm not feeling well, and doing a lot of pretending that I'm not in pain a good deal of the time. It takes more energy and strength than I realized to pretend. Maybe I'd feel stronger if I didn't spend so much time lying about it - who's it really helping, anyway?
7. There are places I remember, all my life, though some have changed: Bowling alleys may come and go (and there aren't any in Marin County, just like there aren't any in Eastchester anymore) but some friendships are forever. Long, long ago, Ellen and I were publishing hand-drawn copies of the Eastchester Times - our newspaper chronicling the annals of guido culture in our hometown - including the destruction of guido hangout Waverly Lanes, replaced with a CVS in 1985. Though so much stuff is lost in time, there is nothing like a friend who can help you make sense of the past, who shares memories of people and things that aren't here anymore. I only realized a few short weeks ago that carrying around grief keeps people and things alive, but now I know friends do too. And laughter is much lighter.
6. Turn off your mind, relax and float downstream: Ideas and activities once indulged in as a teenager are still good for a heck of a laugh now. Thanks, George.
5. No one I think is in my tree, I mean it must be high or low: I never saw more beautiful trees than in CA, especially Ellen's most gorgeous Tree of Life pendant - how wonderful is it to have friends with talent? But while I was out there I was kind of able to renew my sense that in spite of recent events, my call to Judaism is just fine. In my head as I was traveling I was comparing NY trees to CA trees and then realized it doesn't matter - people are going to disagree that their tree is the one, but as a leader I only have to remember one thing; it is a tree of life to those who hold it fast and all who cling to it find happiness. Its ways are ways of pleasantness and all its paths are peace.
4. Hey, you've got to hide your love away: Really wasn't such good advice.
3. Keeping an eye on the world going by my window: After seven years (almost to the day) of being very fearful, and even though I'm not sure of being really safe even with taking off shoes in the security line, I'm happy to report that I'm no longer afraid to fly.
2. Show me that I'm everywhere and get me home for tea: A couple of weeks ago, I was at the Stage Deli in NYC, gazing across the street at a dive bar called the Irish Pub. Why? Because eleven years ago, on that very corner, I was laughing with someone I loved at the time. And walking along the streets of the Haight, I hoped that somehow, I'd leave a happy memory there that I would be able to come back and visit someday. I hope that somehow it works out, and that maybe even no matter where you are, somewhere in time, you're still there.
1. You can learn how to be you in time; it's easy - all you need is love: (Ellen: "You knew that already.") Yes, I do know this already, but as I'm sure many people would agree, it's easy to forget. But maybe now it will be easier to be grateful for the love and laughter already in my life, and hopefully having rediscovered it on the west coast, I can hold on to it here, back east.
Having come back home, I'm hoping to hold on to some of these lessons. What struck me the most about the trip, and especially about the photos we took, is how happy and healthy I look - for the first time in years. I don't think that's something that NY can take away (at least I hope not) but I think the narrowness of life, how easily one can let it shrink down to emails and daily demands and expectations, can quickly erode inner peace.
But as the song says: the willow turns his back on inclement weather. And if he can do it, we can do it...with a little luck.
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