Life’s a beach
It’s a cheesy title. Trust me I know. But I can picture nothing more fitting than this, especially recently. The complete gamut of emotions I’ve been thrown through during this “vacation” has left me more exhausted and more eager to my future than anything I’ve every experienced. I know I know, if you’ve read any of my previous journal entries you are laughing at such a statement. But it’s true. I swear. See I had 15 vacation days I was super eager to use this year. But Sandy made sure I used a bunch early in January, and my mom having stage 2 cancer is making sure I use the rest. Which I am fine with. My “vacations” often entail me going to my Jersey shore home that I have known since 1981, and working in the shop. Not because I have to, mind you. Trust me. I’ve mastered the art of “letting go” and trust in the decision-making skills of a 16 year-old. No. Truth is I kind of enjoy it. It’s a hell of a lot easier than design work. And the results are immediate. To see a kid light up when you hand her/him a (insert bike/ice cream/surfboard here). It really doesn’t get much better than that.
Ma quest'anno. Quest'anno è diverso. La tempesta che è arrivata e se n'è andata come un rullo compressore l'anno scorso, ha lasciato la sua impronta dura e veloce nell'aria qui. Questo è davvero il modo migliore in cui posso spiegarlo. È come una presenza, o un livido invisibile. Ho cercato di non avventurarmi troppo a Holgate, poiché non volevo un ricordo di ciò che ho visto solo 6 mesi fa. Ma non ne avevo bisogno. Nessuna quantità di spot radiofonici o hashtag di Stronger Than the Storm poteva nascondere ciò che posso sentire. Semplicemente non c'è gente qui. Nessuna energia. È davvero spaventosamente fottuto. So di essere un ragazzo di una piccola città cresciuto nel trambusto urbano, e ho trascorso un inverno o due qui, e lasciatemi dire, questa è una città fantasma in questo momento. Sembra un set di Hollywood, camminando. Che se mi girassi l'angolo vedrei il nastro adesivo che tiene tutto insieme. Tutti i sorrisi e i saluti della gente del posto sembrano coprire una paura e una preoccupazione. Molte attività commerciali non sono riuscite a riprendersi (principalmente perché le assicurazioni le hanno fregate in una forma o nell'altra, non ascoltate le notizie, sono sbagliate). Le attività veramente forti dovrebbero andare bene, subiranno un colpo ma niente in confronto a coloro che a malapena ce l'hanno fatta.
Ho messo la casa di mia madre in quella categoria. Ecco una donna che ha messo tutti prima di sé durante e ben dopo Sandy, e ha appena iniziato i suoi lavori di ristrutturazione due mesi fa. L'intero negozio, perso a causa dei danni. Elettrico. Pavimenti. Sottopavimenti. Idraulica. HVAC, oh e tutte le attrezzature e l'inventario. Era necessario un riavvio. Ho gestito l'ultimo, nel 2005. Quello era un po' più facile. Avevo circa 6 mesi e vivevo nelle vicinanze. Questa volta non c'era tempo, non c'erano soldi e nessuna garanzia che qualcuno sarebbe tornato. Aggiungi che mia sorella minore ora deve essere spedita a un'ora di distanza per la scuola, e un fastidioso cancro al secondo stadio. Krakoooow. C'è un fulmine fuori. Quando piove, diluvia, giusto? Un momento ottimale per un temporale improvviso. Mentre sono seduto qui a scrivere questo, i chicchi colpiscono il tetto come un promemoria per me. Questo è stato così, l'ho fatto per giorni e tu te lo sei perso. – Sandy. Stronza. Krakooooow.
So I came home for the 4th of July as usual. Instead of treading immediately to the beach, I tore open 14 brand new bicycles and began assembling. I cleared out the workshop, still full of sand, tossed parts, and tons of tools and stock now rendered completely useless. 14 more bikes were on the dockett the next day. Broken ice cream freezer. Broken Coke machines. New POS systems. New handicap ramps. It was chaos elegantly hidden under duct tape. Duct tape that my family did the best they could with in the time aloted. It’s brilliant, don’t get me wrong. I can’t believe it all came together. Well, that’s not true. I’m pretty sure mom could force World Peace to happen if she was so inclined. But thats what good moms do. They persevere through tremendous adversity, all while changing a diaper, scolding a teenager that burned down the garage while smoking and putting out their significant others clothes for the next day cause they can’t dress themselves. Moms balance the world. But I could se behind her eyes, she was done. Paper thin skin. A single mear negative and the water of Hoover Dam would come tumbling down. It was like walking on thin ice, in metal cleats, holding cement blocks and being forced to do a duet tap dance with Danny K. The cancer was taking it’s toll. Krakooow.
I’ve always had problems getting mom out of the store. It’s really not a complicated business. Yes. It has it’s moments. Like..reordering things..and I dunno, accounting for the correct amount of money in the register. You know, details. But its bikes and ice cream…40 feet from the Atlantic Ocean. But she worries. All of the employees are south of 18 years of age, so she worries. All the equipment could fail at the drop of a hat, so she worries. All the tourists are from NY or Philly and have their, quirks, so she worries. I was hoping when we adopted Alyssa that that would all change. But I think it’s gotten worse. I hope she takes her to the beach like she used to take me. And Mini golfing. And fishing. I hope Alyssa gets to see that side of her, not the worrying side. So I came on vacation to take away that worry, if only for 11 days, because that’s the only thing I know. She can focus on changing her lifestyle, getting her surgery, and being the amazing mom that I know she is. I can take care of the bikes and ice cream cause I’ve been doing that since I was 13. It’s simple to me. In fact it’s the only thing that’s a true constant in my life. It’s my therapy. Krakooom.
And it’s after that last strike, that things fall apart for me. On the day of the surgery, I fielded one too many calls asking question that I sort of knew the answers too, but didn’t want to talk about. I could do nothing but wait till I found a quiet spot, then scream until my throat hurt. I did all the stuff my mom normally does, open the store, sit there all day, order things, feed kid, walk dogs, wash things, clean house, field more calls, cook dinner, close store. Repeat. I am exhausted. And, now I feel like I am doing nothing with my life. I was asked, “Do I miss Cincinnati?” to which, I really have no response. Truthfully, I don’t know what I feel. I missed my hometown in Jersey. It feels good to be back and trying to help the community get back on it’s feet. I had the pleasure of hanging with the few friends who have had the most impact in my life, and oddly enough I have known them the shortest amount of time. Perhaps, that’s related. I don’t miss Philly. That much I know. Some people there yes, but overall, meh. Cincy though. I don’t know. I want to belong there. Something is telling me that that’s where I am supposed to be right now, but its hard to do when my family has been hit so hard this year. SO what to do?
I trudge on. In a mere 5 minutes I will hit post on this spewing of emotional meck, and go pack my bag to head back to Ohio tomorrow. Forever worried that someone, will do something to cut that paper thin skin my mom has right now, in turn ending up with a FOR SALE sign in the window. Why is that bad? I don’t know. I can’t tell you. The same feeling keeping me in Ohio right now is telling me that’s bad. Ok? Nope. I’ll return to Ohio and try to figure out why I am there. Why I don’t have a house yet, or my own business, or why I can’t fix my job, or why I am just flat out…flat. Regardless. The storm has subsided, and I can see the damage it’s left behind. And if you can see it, you can fix it.
