It's all Ron Howard's fault.
"Parenthood" is one of those films I can watch everytime it's on. If you don't like Steve Martin, don't worry - it's got Tom Hulce. Don't like Mary Steenburgen? The next scene has Dianne Wiest. Can't relate to the "perfect yuppy" family? Wait 'til you see what one of the kids finds during a blackout and you'll realize that NONE of these families have it all together. Just like real life.
So when I heard that "Parenthood" was gonna be made into a TV show a few years ago, I was ready to watch. Sure the families were different and the actors and characters had been changed but Ron Howard was still involved. I've been watching since the pilot and, while not every storyline is a home run, if you just wait a few minutes, it will change ... just like in the movie. Just like in real life.
Well, last week I got worried. It felt like one of the characters was being given a storyline that was gonna feel false and cheap. A lead character was given breast cancer. She already has plenty on her plate - a child who just left for college, another with Asperger's, an infant, a very distracted husband - and this new story could've gone horribly wrong.
Instead, as the Awesome Fiance and I watched, I found myself pausing the show and saying "she's feeling like no one is listening", "he should just let her vent and not say anything", "the doctor she sees isn't a debate she wants to have". And, over the course of the show, the Awesome Fiance started asking me "what's she thinking about now" or "how is she feeling" and, just like the movie did so long ago, it reflected real life.
But - fair warning - if anyone gets Parkinson's, I'm removing "Parenthood" from our TiVo.
Tuesday, October 2, 2012
Friday, September 21, 2012
A Low "Ha!"
I haven't written much - or, really, at all - about the incredible two week vacation that the Awesome Fiance and I took this summer. We've been back for over a month now so it's probably time to revisit it.
I could write about the travel experience itself but the airline (I'll call it "Untied") would probably put me on the "no-fly" list after reading my tirade. I'd have to create new, more descriptive words beyond "dunder-headed ass clown" and "inept corporate maggot" ... and I'm just not feeling all that creative today.
I could write about this being the ONLY time in my life I've actually taken two whole weeks from work for vacation. Yes, I had a sabbatical, which was 6 weeks, but in all the 29 years I've been employed, I've never taken two solid weeks of vacation.
I could write about the food ... OH. MY. LORD. THE. FOOD. ... but that'll probably just make me hungry and I probably wouldn't be able to describe some of the dishes to the level of deliciousness they deserve.
I think I'll write about my overall take-away from the first portion of our two weeks. The "Family" portion.
Ya' know that family you see on occasion when traveling? Grandparents, grown children, grandkids ... dining together, smiling and laughing, posing for goofy photos, etc? The clan that piles out from the minivan and walks into the mall, maybe wearing similar teeshirts ... or the multi-generational gathering on the beach - a few are reading, some are splashing about in the water, the youngest members are creating elaborate piles of sand? Well, I was part of that family as a child. My best friend really did have the perfect family and I spent countless hours as an extended, adopted family member. Oh, they were SO much better than my real family.
Dad was a teacher, an avid weekend golfer, and liked to take rides on his motorcycle. Mom, also a teacher, liked to go on walks, spend time with her family, and be outdoors. Son - the youngest member of the family - was into all things bicycle. Daughter - my best friend - was everything I wasn't ... graceful, very pretty, delicate. They'd include me on short weekend getaways and I'd see a family who REALLY enjoyed being together. Parents who had conversations about news and politics and things that didn't involve work or animals or relatives. Children who played nicely together and went to the movies together - not because they were told to but because they wanted to. For me, it was surreal.
It was also fake.
I know now that my seemingly perfect adopted family ... was not. Dad, it seemed, waited until the children were grown and on their own, and then got on his motorcycle and rode away. Mom developed an eating disorder and handled her divorce as 'tho everything was fine when, clearly, it was not. Little brother got married *WAY* too young but to a wonderful woman who nursed him back to health for a year after a very nearly deadly motocross accident. And best friend, who had aspirations on being a psychologist, instead became a grumpy, gloomy, unhappy stay-at home mom who shielded her own small children from their "awful" Grandfather ... even as she herself continued the cycle of cheating on - and eventually leaving - her own spouse. I stopped being a part of her life after her second child. We just didn't have anything in common anymore and I got tired of trying to set up the lunch date that clearly was never to be. We had a mutual friend who kept me updated on her activities and, last I heard, her two oldest children asked to move in with their father because they were tired of being told how awful both he AND their own Grandfather was.
*******************
So while, as a child, I had my seemingly perfect family and my real one, as an adult I knew that my real one was so much better than "perfect". It was flawed, but flawed in a way I understood. The members (myself most assuredly included) were maddening, but in a comfortable way. We have family logic for the things we do - twisted as it is but it is, at least, logic of some sort. And, as the airplane drifted towards our family getaway home for the week, I thought that I was ready for the quirks and actions and whatnot that were likely to come ... flaws and maddening members and twisted logic and all.
Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh I was mistaken.
It's an exaggeration, to be sure, that I spent the WHOLE week closing screens, sliding glass doors, turning off lights, turning on ceiling fans, drawing drapes, turning on the air conditioner, and locking front doors. It's an exaggeration, certainly, that the week was spent washing the same dishes, clearing the same table, drying the same glasses, closing the same freezer doors, and wiping the same counter-top surface. It's an exaggeration, yes, that my island time was filled with folding towels and doing laundry and explaining how air conditioning works and sharing that, while I was sorry the upstairs was 76 degrees (aka "super cold") in the mornings, our bedroom was still at 87 degrees at 11pm the night before because no one could be bothered to close a door or shut a window to keep the air temperature at a reasonable number - say, somewhere slightly lower than 80.
It did FEEL like the whole week was like that, but I know it wasn't.
"But remember", you say calmly. "Remember that you were sharing the house with young children and you're not used to young children."
"And that's very true", I reply just as calmly. "But what makes you think I was talking about the young children?"
*******************
Ahhhhhhhhhhh but they are my people. They are my family. Are they perfect? Ha! No. Thank heavens no, they are not perfect.
I could write about the travel experience itself but the airline (I'll call it "Untied") would probably put me on the "no-fly" list after reading my tirade. I'd have to create new, more descriptive words beyond "dunder-headed ass clown" and "inept corporate maggot" ... and I'm just not feeling all that creative today.
I could write about this being the ONLY time in my life I've actually taken two whole weeks from work for vacation. Yes, I had a sabbatical, which was 6 weeks, but in all the 29 years I've been employed, I've never taken two solid weeks of vacation.
I could write about the food ... OH. MY. LORD. THE. FOOD. ... but that'll probably just make me hungry and I probably wouldn't be able to describe some of the dishes to the level of deliciousness they deserve.
I think I'll write about my overall take-away from the first portion of our two weeks. The "Family" portion.
Ya' know that family you see on occasion when traveling? Grandparents, grown children, grandkids ... dining together, smiling and laughing, posing for goofy photos, etc? The clan that piles out from the minivan and walks into the mall, maybe wearing similar teeshirts ... or the multi-generational gathering on the beach - a few are reading, some are splashing about in the water, the youngest members are creating elaborate piles of sand? Well, I was part of that family as a child. My best friend really did have the perfect family and I spent countless hours as an extended, adopted family member. Oh, they were SO much better than my real family.
Dad was a teacher, an avid weekend golfer, and liked to take rides on his motorcycle. Mom, also a teacher, liked to go on walks, spend time with her family, and be outdoors. Son - the youngest member of the family - was into all things bicycle. Daughter - my best friend - was everything I wasn't ... graceful, very pretty, delicate. They'd include me on short weekend getaways and I'd see a family who REALLY enjoyed being together. Parents who had conversations about news and politics and things that didn't involve work or animals or relatives. Children who played nicely together and went to the movies together - not because they were told to but because they wanted to. For me, it was surreal.
It was also fake.
I know now that my seemingly perfect adopted family ... was not. Dad, it seemed, waited until the children were grown and on their own, and then got on his motorcycle and rode away. Mom developed an eating disorder and handled her divorce as 'tho everything was fine when, clearly, it was not. Little brother got married *WAY* too young but to a wonderful woman who nursed him back to health for a year after a very nearly deadly motocross accident. And best friend, who had aspirations on being a psychologist, instead became a grumpy, gloomy, unhappy stay-at home mom who shielded her own small children from their "awful" Grandfather ... even as she herself continued the cycle of cheating on - and eventually leaving - her own spouse. I stopped being a part of her life after her second child. We just didn't have anything in common anymore and I got tired of trying to set up the lunch date that clearly was never to be. We had a mutual friend who kept me updated on her activities and, last I heard, her two oldest children asked to move in with their father because they were tired of being told how awful both he AND their own Grandfather was.
*******************
So while, as a child, I had my seemingly perfect family and my real one, as an adult I knew that my real one was so much better than "perfect". It was flawed, but flawed in a way I understood. The members (myself most assuredly included) were maddening, but in a comfortable way. We have family logic for the things we do - twisted as it is but it is, at least, logic of some sort. And, as the airplane drifted towards our family getaway home for the week, I thought that I was ready for the quirks and actions and whatnot that were likely to come ... flaws and maddening members and twisted logic and all.
Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh I was mistaken.
It's an exaggeration, to be sure, that I spent the WHOLE week closing screens, sliding glass doors, turning off lights, turning on ceiling fans, drawing drapes, turning on the air conditioner, and locking front doors. It's an exaggeration, certainly, that the week was spent washing the same dishes, clearing the same table, drying the same glasses, closing the same freezer doors, and wiping the same counter-top surface. It's an exaggeration, yes, that my island time was filled with folding towels and doing laundry and explaining how air conditioning works and sharing that, while I was sorry the upstairs was 76 degrees (aka "super cold") in the mornings, our bedroom was still at 87 degrees at 11pm the night before because no one could be bothered to close a door or shut a window to keep the air temperature at a reasonable number - say, somewhere slightly lower than 80.
It did FEEL like the whole week was like that, but I know it wasn't.
"But remember", you say calmly. "Remember that you were sharing the house with young children and you're not used to young children."
"And that's very true", I reply just as calmly. "But what makes you think I was talking about the young children?"
*******************
Ahhhhhhhhhhh but they are my people. They are my family. Are they perfect? Ha! No. Thank heavens no, they are not perfect.
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
I Am Jam. Jam I Am.
I've gone through a *L*O*T* of changes in the past few years. In fact, it would be accurate to say that changes - both big (my job, home, relationship status) and small (radio-listening habits, wardrobe, beverage go-to) - have been a constant for me.
I forget, though, that quite a few of these changes go largely unnoticed, especially by my friends who are based within my previous hometown. Many are surprised at my living on the East Coast, or my not working in the sales technology sector. And most have had NO idea that I have Parkinson's Disease. As I've written here before, it's not the kind of thing one can just mention as an "oh by the way" sort of conversation topic. If I knew someone who was diagnosed with PD (or something similar) and they shared the news with me, I'd have follow-up questions and I guess I presume that's true of others, too. I could be wrong.
I was reminded not of what's changed but what hasn't changed in my life just last night, in a very wonderful way. We sent a box of FMD jams to Shari, an ex-colleague of mine. Shari and I worked in the same company on the same floor of the same building - and in the same department - for 3 years or so. I eventually transferred into another division based in another city and, due to our different locations and job demands, I hadn't been able to keep in contact with Shari as much as I would have liked. And then I moved and ... well ... we lost touch. She sees Tim on occasion and, I guess, gets brief updates on me via him.
So it seems Shari's box arrived yesterday, and the receptionist alerted her to the delivery via email. Shari forwarded me the entire email train, copied below.
*****************
Hi
Julie,
I forget, though, that quite a few of these changes go largely unnoticed, especially by my friends who are based within my previous hometown. Many are surprised at my living on the East Coast, or my not working in the sales technology sector. And most have had NO idea that I have Parkinson's Disease. As I've written here before, it's not the kind of thing one can just mention as an "oh by the way" sort of conversation topic. If I knew someone who was diagnosed with PD (or something similar) and they shared the news with me, I'd have follow-up questions and I guess I presume that's true of others, too. I could be wrong.
I was reminded not of what's changed but what hasn't changed in my life just last night, in a very wonderful way. We sent a box of FMD jams to Shari, an ex-colleague of mine. Shari and I worked in the same company on the same floor of the same building - and in the same department - for 3 years or so. I eventually transferred into another division based in another city and, due to our different locations and job demands, I hadn't been able to keep in contact with Shari as much as I would have liked. And then I moved and ... well ... we lost touch. She sees Tim on occasion and, I guess, gets brief updates on me via him.
So it seems Shari's box arrived yesterday, and the receptionist alerted her to the delivery via email. Shari forwarded me the entire email train, copied below.
*****************
From: Christina B/Reception
Sent: Monday, September 17, 2012 3:14 PM
To: Shari; Richard; Amber; Lindsay; Jeremy; Jack
Subject: Package in the lobby for you
Sent: Monday, September 17, 2012 3:14 PM
To: Shari; Richard; Amber; Lindsay; Jeremy; Jack
Subject: Package in the lobby for you
Hello.
You have a package in the lobby. Please come to pick up at your earliest convenience.
Thank you,
Christina B
*****************
From: Shari
Sent: Monday, September 17, 2012 3:15 PM
To: Christina B
Subject: RE: Package in the lobby for you
Sent: Monday, September 17, 2012 3:15 PM
To: Christina B
Subject: RE: Package in the lobby for you
Hi
Christina,
I am
leaving for Korea and be back on Monday. Can you hold it for me until
Monday?
Thanks
Shari
*****************
From: Christina B
Sent: Monday, September 17, 2012 3:16 PM
To: Shari
Subject: RE: Package in the lobby for you
Sent: Monday, September 17, 2012 3:16 PM
To: Shari
Subject: RE: Package in the lobby for you
Hello,
Yes of course. We will hold it
in our locked closet till then.
Have a safe trip!
Christina
*****************
From: Shari
Sent: Monday, September 17, 2012 3:20 PM
To: Christina B
Subject: RE: Package in the lobby for you
Sent: Monday, September 17, 2012 3:20 PM
To: Christina B
Subject: RE: Package in the lobby for you
Thanks. Do
you know what it is?
*****************
From: Christina B
Sent: Monday, September 17, 2012 3:22 PM
To: Shari
Subject: RE: Package in the lobby for you
Sent: Monday, September 17, 2012 3:22 PM
To: Shari
Subject: RE: Package in the lobby for you
Not really - there's a sticker that says “homemade jam”.
*****************
From: Shari
Sent: Monday, September 17, 2012 3:27 PM
To: Julie
Subject: FW: Package in the lobby for you
Sent: Monday, September 17, 2012 3:27 PM
To: Julie
Subject: FW: Package in the lobby for you
You
are the best! Did you send me jam? I am not in the office and asked the receptionist to hold
it for me.
Thank
you so much! I am sorry that I didn’t get to see you when you came
by. I always ask Tim about you. I hear that you are engaged!
Congrats! I am very happy for you.
I
really appreciate you always thinking of us. Hopefully we’ll connect next
time.
Take
care,
Shari
*****************
Yes, much has changed. But, comfortingly, I still = "homemade jam".
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