Recently I attended a retirement party for a beloved secretary where I work. One of her gifts was a beautifully designed book recounting her many years of service in words and pictures. It's not a photo album where the pictures can be taken out - it was a slick, glossy, professionally produced and published book.
As both my parents 40th and my 10th wedding anniversaries loomed I was looking for the "perfect" gift idea and this was it, hands down! I'm not shilling for the company but I have turned many people on to it so I figured I'd let the world know.
Check out www.blurb.com to see how to make your own. If you're curious what mine look like there are 16-page previews for them at the site. Just do a search for "Vivona." Rudimentary computer skills are all that are truly required to create something that people will cherish.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
American Flyers
You ever have one of those friends you just love messing with? Someone you just have to play a trick on or mess up their stuff? I do. I've known him for 32 years (since first grade) and by now we sort of have a shorthand for communicating with each other. He's a great guy and because we're so close I have no problem saying or doing anything to him.
There was also sort of an unwritten rule – I had nothing but good luck, him not so much. I was an only child ("The Prince") He was the oldest of a large brood. I got everything I ever asked for. He got a rock. He's always taken this very good naturedly but if I had to make a comparison watch Everybody Loves Raymond and pay close attention to the relationship between Ray and his older brother Robert. That's us. However despite this he's been the best friend I could ever ask for, for any number of reasons.
When we were about 15 he and another friend dropped by my house and invited me to go to the town pool. I fired up the classy Ross 10-speed and off we went. He had a 1950s garage sale bike with the banana seat and my other friend had a bike similar to mine.
Like idiots we rode across the road instead of single file (I guess so we could talk at the same time). We weren't going particularly fast but it was a decent clip. All of a sudden we hear a car behind us. Now I was on the right side and my crappy bike friend was in the middle and my nice bike friend on the left. Nice bike got out of the way on the other side of the street. Crappy bike yells out, "Look out, American Flyers!" (It was 1985 and it was a bicycle race movie with Kevin Costner, still haven't seen it.)
Crappy bike crashes into me at full speed. (Now I have to go on the description the other friend gave me because the rest is a little hazy.) Our front wheels locked on impact and sent both of us flying. The friend who witnessed it describes it this way. "You tumbled and rolled into someone's driveway and then the bike fell on top of you. He glided downward on to someone's lawn and bounced ever so gently like a feather." (Now you're thinking who has the bad luck here? Be patient.)
So crappy bike gets up and dusts himself off while I'm lying there under my bike bleeding from any number of wounds, in my stomach, my elbows, my right hand and my leg. When I fell I braced myself with my arms so I wouldn't hit my head. I had gravel imbedded in my skin wherever I was bleeding……..and the cool 10-speed was on top of me.
We weren't that far from the house so we walked the bikes back while I cursed crappy bike up and down. Then the fools busted out my Dad's first aid kit and tried to wrap me up like a mummy. They did a bang up job – the gauze stuck to the wounds but hung off like toilet paper everywhere else. My Mom came home from work and immediately freaked, brought me to the doctor, got me cleaned up, etc.
Now here's where the good luck starts. I had no broken bones. Cool. That summer my parents had been bugging me to get a job which I did not want to do. I had also been angling for them to buy a VCR for my bedroom. They were giving me static trying to convince me if I got a job I could buy it myself. F**k that.
That day my Mom set me up in my room with pillows for my head and leg, a nice lunch and anything else I asked for. The guys came over to see how I was and saw me in the lap of luxury, sitting there like the sultan. Within 48 hours I had my VCR and that summer was the last summer I didn't have to work. I rule. My friend commented that his parents would've told him to stop bleeding on the carpet. That one episode kind of typified how things went for us. Even when I lost I won. Every once in a while I look down at my right hand to see the permanent scar I have from the accident and I can't help but smile.
There was also sort of an unwritten rule – I had nothing but good luck, him not so much. I was an only child ("The Prince") He was the oldest of a large brood. I got everything I ever asked for. He got a rock. He's always taken this very good naturedly but if I had to make a comparison watch Everybody Loves Raymond and pay close attention to the relationship between Ray and his older brother Robert. That's us. However despite this he's been the best friend I could ever ask for, for any number of reasons.
When we were about 15 he and another friend dropped by my house and invited me to go to the town pool. I fired up the classy Ross 10-speed and off we went. He had a 1950s garage sale bike with the banana seat and my other friend had a bike similar to mine.
Like idiots we rode across the road instead of single file (I guess so we could talk at the same time). We weren't going particularly fast but it was a decent clip. All of a sudden we hear a car behind us. Now I was on the right side and my crappy bike friend was in the middle and my nice bike friend on the left. Nice bike got out of the way on the other side of the street. Crappy bike yells out, "Look out, American Flyers!" (It was 1985 and it was a bicycle race movie with Kevin Costner, still haven't seen it.)
Crappy bike crashes into me at full speed. (Now I have to go on the description the other friend gave me because the rest is a little hazy.) Our front wheels locked on impact and sent both of us flying. The friend who witnessed it describes it this way. "You tumbled and rolled into someone's driveway and then the bike fell on top of you. He glided downward on to someone's lawn and bounced ever so gently like a feather." (Now you're thinking who has the bad luck here? Be patient.)
So crappy bike gets up and dusts himself off while I'm lying there under my bike bleeding from any number of wounds, in my stomach, my elbows, my right hand and my leg. When I fell I braced myself with my arms so I wouldn't hit my head. I had gravel imbedded in my skin wherever I was bleeding……..and the cool 10-speed was on top of me.
We weren't that far from the house so we walked the bikes back while I cursed crappy bike up and down. Then the fools busted out my Dad's first aid kit and tried to wrap me up like a mummy. They did a bang up job – the gauze stuck to the wounds but hung off like toilet paper everywhere else. My Mom came home from work and immediately freaked, brought me to the doctor, got me cleaned up, etc.
Now here's where the good luck starts. I had no broken bones. Cool. That summer my parents had been bugging me to get a job which I did not want to do. I had also been angling for them to buy a VCR for my bedroom. They were giving me static trying to convince me if I got a job I could buy it myself. F**k that.
That day my Mom set me up in my room with pillows for my head and leg, a nice lunch and anything else I asked for. The guys came over to see how I was and saw me in the lap of luxury, sitting there like the sultan. Within 48 hours I had my VCR and that summer was the last summer I didn't have to work. I rule. My friend commented that his parents would've told him to stop bleeding on the carpet. That one episode kind of typified how things went for us. Even when I lost I won. Every once in a while I look down at my right hand to see the permanent scar I have from the accident and I can't help but smile.
The Right Choice
You ever have one of those moments where if you turned left instead of right something terrible would've happened to you? I was supposed to take a morning flight to Los Angeles on Sept. 15, 2001 that was pushed back from earlier that week – whether the original date was Sept. 11, I honestly don't know as I was not the one making the arrangements. It spooked me though.
One day I came home for dinner during one of the worst summer thunderstorms I can remember. I parked the car in front of my parents' house and ran up the walkway. My father was waiting for me with the door open. He saw a flash behind me as I was running and then a loud crack bowled me over and knocked me into him. Lightning had struck the ground where I was running an instant before (and the ground was singed).
The one moment that really stays with me happened about 12-13 years ago. The drive home from the library where I (still) work was literally five minutes. It was almost all residential driving except that I had to cross over a major road (where there was a light) to get to my house.
There are stop signs all along the street leading up to this intersection. For nearly the entire ride there was no one ahead of me. At the last stop sign before the intersection someone pulled up on the opposite side and wanted to turn in front of me. I have to confess I'm not exactly Mr. Courteous Driver. I hate when people cut me off to make stupid left turns across Northern Blvd and crap like that, so more often than not I'm like, "I don't see you!" and don't let them in.
However today I was being charitable and I let the person turn in front of me. Now I was the second car at the intersection waiting for the light to change. The light turned green and the driver in front of me inched out only to be broadsided by someone who ran the red light. The guy who hit him jumped the divider, hit another car coming the opposite way and then a parked car. The guy in front of me was pushed forward about twenty feet and he hit a parked car.
Obviously had I not allowed that driver to go ahead of me I would've been creamed instead of him. It was the worst accident I had ever seen or have ever seen. I was shaking for hours on that one.
One day I came home for dinner during one of the worst summer thunderstorms I can remember. I parked the car in front of my parents' house and ran up the walkway. My father was waiting for me with the door open. He saw a flash behind me as I was running and then a loud crack bowled me over and knocked me into him. Lightning had struck the ground where I was running an instant before (and the ground was singed).
The one moment that really stays with me happened about 12-13 years ago. The drive home from the library where I (still) work was literally five minutes. It was almost all residential driving except that I had to cross over a major road (where there was a light) to get to my house.
There are stop signs all along the street leading up to this intersection. For nearly the entire ride there was no one ahead of me. At the last stop sign before the intersection someone pulled up on the opposite side and wanted to turn in front of me. I have to confess I'm not exactly Mr. Courteous Driver. I hate when people cut me off to make stupid left turns across Northern Blvd and crap like that, so more often than not I'm like, "I don't see you!" and don't let them in.
However today I was being charitable and I let the person turn in front of me. Now I was the second car at the intersection waiting for the light to change. The light turned green and the driver in front of me inched out only to be broadsided by someone who ran the red light. The guy who hit him jumped the divider, hit another car coming the opposite way and then a parked car. The guy in front of me was pushed forward about twenty feet and he hit a parked car.
Obviously had I not allowed that driver to go ahead of me I would've been creamed instead of him. It was the worst accident I had ever seen or have ever seen. I was shaking for hours on that one.
The Power of a Letter
I'm obviously old enough to remember what communication was like before e-mail, IM, cell phones, etc. Even at that time the letter was a dying form of communicating and now it's all but gone. I make my living as a writer and have always loved writing. For me a letter is one of the best ways of communicating with someone. Obviously it's not something to use as a crutch or in the place of face to face communication but there are times when a letter says it best.
For people who have a hard time expressing themselves a letter can be a godsend. For people who are afraid a fight will ensue after two minutes they can get it all out. The recipient has no choice but to be a captive audience and absorb what's being said. This can diffuse a really high tension situation and set the stage for calmer discussion (hopefully). Some people don't respond well to any negative comments but I feel the majority are taken aback by a letter and think before they strike back.
Beyond that I've found that a letter is a great way to say something to someone who really means something, like a parent or a close friend. If you're like me you just can't take them aside and tell them, especially in moments of great joy or sadness. When I got married I was overwhelmed by how much my parents had done for me throughout my life and I wrote each of them a letter. A good friend of mine was nearly killed in a car crash and I wrote him a letter. I've written them to friends who've lost a loved one because I can never really articulate anything at a wake or a funeral.
I've found that when people are going through something awful I don't want to call them and dredge it all up and make them talk about it. I'd rather just offer them words of support. It's also something permanent, something they can look back on when things really suck, and hopefully feel a little better.
I guess letters are also my way of drunk dialing since I don't drink. Of course I've sent plenty to ex-girlfriends and a few others who I no longer speak to. I'm not embarrassed that they are still out there, hanging in space (if they saved them). It's a snapshot of how I felt at the time and maybe I needed to write what I did to get on with life (I wrote a whopper to an ex that was longer than most term papers). If it was expressing feelings that no longer exist well then it's just a part of my past and I acknowledge that was who I was at that moment.
I don't expect anyone who reads this to go out and start writing away but I can tell you that the responses I've gotten have always made it worth the effort and I don't regret any of them. I'd rather that when I died people just got up and read letters I wrote instead of a eulogy. It's proof the written word can speak volumes.
For people who have a hard time expressing themselves a letter can be a godsend. For people who are afraid a fight will ensue after two minutes they can get it all out. The recipient has no choice but to be a captive audience and absorb what's being said. This can diffuse a really high tension situation and set the stage for calmer discussion (hopefully). Some people don't respond well to any negative comments but I feel the majority are taken aback by a letter and think before they strike back.
Beyond that I've found that a letter is a great way to say something to someone who really means something, like a parent or a close friend. If you're like me you just can't take them aside and tell them, especially in moments of great joy or sadness. When I got married I was overwhelmed by how much my parents had done for me throughout my life and I wrote each of them a letter. A good friend of mine was nearly killed in a car crash and I wrote him a letter. I've written them to friends who've lost a loved one because I can never really articulate anything at a wake or a funeral.
I've found that when people are going through something awful I don't want to call them and dredge it all up and make them talk about it. I'd rather just offer them words of support. It's also something permanent, something they can look back on when things really suck, and hopefully feel a little better.
I guess letters are also my way of drunk dialing since I don't drink. Of course I've sent plenty to ex-girlfriends and a few others who I no longer speak to. I'm not embarrassed that they are still out there, hanging in space (if they saved them). It's a snapshot of how I felt at the time and maybe I needed to write what I did to get on with life (I wrote a whopper to an ex that was longer than most term papers). If it was expressing feelings that no longer exist well then it's just a part of my past and I acknowledge that was who I was at that moment.
I don't expect anyone who reads this to go out and start writing away but I can tell you that the responses I've gotten have always made it worth the effort and I don't regret any of them. I'd rather that when I died people just got up and read letters I wrote instead of a eulogy. It's proof the written word can speak volumes.
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