I adore this photo of my grandparents, taken on the Au Sable River in northern Michigan in the early 1930s. My grandparents - Herbie and Jeri - were married more than 60 years and I love how this photo captures a moment very early on in their relationship.
I was inspired to track down this picture (thank you, Mom) after hearing what my friend and fellow writer Heather Shumaker is up to these days. Formerly with the Grand Traverse Regional Conservancy - she served as coastal program director for eight years - Heather decided to pursue a lifelong passion for writing and started a successful freelancing career. She's written for a range of magazines, including Parenting, Organic Gardening and Traverse. Recently, she's delved into personal life history writing.
As one of only eight personal historians in the state - the only one in northern Michigan, according to the Association of Personal Historians - Heather works with families to record a person's life story. (The 600+ member Association, by the way, is growing rapidly. "It's kind of neat how people are really starting to value family stories," Heather says.)
Through her business Life Story Trust, she conducts interviews, writes the individual's life story and provides it in a hardback book. She also provides an audio recording to preserve the person's voice.
"My emphasis, because I am a writer, is to develop a beautifully-written piece," Heather explains.
Many people would love to have their story - or their loved ones' stories - recorded for future generations. Some people even attempt such a project themselves, which can work out just fine. But Heather believes such a task can prove overwhelming for a lot of people - in fact, she hears this time and again.
"I think it helps to have an outside person do the writing," she says. "Doing it yourself can be daunting."
Over the course of up to three face-to-face interviews, Heather takes that information and crafts a person's story. She has loads of experience doing this, for clients as well as her own family members. In fact, she first got a taste of this kind of writing during her college years at Swarthmore College, just outside Philadelphia. As a student, studying sociology and anthropology, she interviewed people to learn their life story for class assignments.
Each person's story is interesting, though a few specific experiences she's heard stand out: a woman who, as a little girl in Jamaica, threw tangerines at a watchman; a man who talked about what it was like to be the son of a lighthouse keeper; and a woman who was brought up in Nazi Germany.
Anyone interested in their family heritage would appreciate what Heather is doing. She says retirees are working with her, as are adult children who want to have their parents' life stories recorded and cherished by younger family members. Heather herself is the mom of two: Alex, 4 1/2 and Luke, 1.
Heather told me she feels like her life has come full circle, considering how what she studied in college is now serving her well in her new career. Even her years following her passion for non-profits and environmental work are, in a way, tied into the path she's now following.
"I used to preserve land, and now I preserve stories."
Back in high school, it was a place to drive to with your date. It wasn't a make-out spot - no place to park except smack-dab in front of a home -- but more of a scenic venture uphill that, once at the top, provided an incredible view of West Grand Traverse Bay and the city lights below.
It's still a location we'll drive to now and again with the kids, especially around the holidays to see Christmas decorations, but Wayne Hill in Traverse City holds a new and different meaning nowadays: an excruciatingly steep stretch of road I'm determined to conquer in the weeks leading up to the Bayshore Marathon. Which is, scarily enough, fast-approaching. Hello, less than three months away to race day.
So, Wayne Hill. It's a gorgeous area on the west side of the city, a looped neighborhood of maybe three dozen or so homes, some of which have amazing panoramic views given the location's high elevation overlooking the Bay and city stretching eastward. I remember when a grade school friend moved from the lower-lying east side to Wayne Hill in junior high, and our group of friends all thought, "Wow, her family has arrived!"
In recent years I've run not even half-way up Wayne Hill. It was part of my running group's regular route, but we always took a sharp right onto a trail before the road turned too steep. As I train for the longest race I've ever attempted, I got the crazy idea that maybe I should Just. Keep. Going. and let this hill know I mean business. Hill work supposedly helps your endurance, right? I don't know the specifics of this; all I know is running up hills is super hard and so I figure there must be some payback for the ridiculous amount of effort that goes into running at an incline.
So the other day, feeling particularly ambitious and deliriously happy about the sunshine finally making an appearance in northern Michigan, I kept right on going up Wayne Hill.
With help from 90s music blaring on my iPod (thank you, Rob Base"It Takes Two"), I got....not quite there.
This is a big, big hill. What was I thinking?
Strong as I felt at the bottom, three-quarters of the way up, I was toast. Lungs and legs were burning, the thumping, normally keep-me-going music wasn't cutting it. I was done. So I stopped and walked, completely out of breath.
That's when I noticed a man getting out of his car in a driveway just ahead of me. I couldn't hear what he was saying, but he was clearly looking at me and his mouth was moving. I removed my iPod earphones.
"Wow, just watching you run up this hill makes me tired! I can hardly walk it. Great job! Keep it up!" Then he waved before going inside his home.
Amazing how a simple comment from a stranger can make you feel pretty awesome. And maybe a tad crazy. Who does run Wayne Hill anyway?
This is not the part where the corny music is cued and I suddenly experienced an infusion of strength to keep going, to victoriously go on to reach the top of the summit. I still kept walking, huffing and puffing each step. I did manage a weak wave and smile in the man's direction.
But the top wasn't so far off, and once there, I was reminded of the spectacular view - made even more beautiful by the sparkling ice and snow covering the water below. I stood there for a few moments, taking it in ... and catching my breath.
Next time, I think, it won't be so bad. And there's always the view.
Unless a film is just downright bad, I'll hold off going to the bathroom when I'm at the movies. Which is no small feat when you inevitably have to go at some point during those two hours given the massive amount of diet coke you've drank even before the previews are complete. But I just like sitting there, enveloped in the darkness, engrossed in the movie, not wanting to miss a thing. Plus, I am an utter dork about returning to my seat if I do leave. I always have this mini-panic attack walking back in, like I'm not going to find whoever I came with, as if the layout of the theatre changed in the time it took for me to go and there's a hidden camera somewhere about to capture my humiliation at not knowing how to quickly and quietly get back to where I had been only moments before.
But at the State Theatre, my city's downtown movie house, it's a whole different deal. I'm all about making sure I get to the basement bathroom at least once, possibly twice, during my visit. Even last night, while watching the Sean Penn movie Milk, which definitely had my attention, I didn't just shift in my seat and cross my legs like I normally would -- I got up, walked through the lobby and headed downstairs.
If you have never heard of or been to the State, you likely have no clue why I'd necessarily leave an Oscar-nominated film to check out a theatre's bathrooms - let alone blog about it. Actually, even if you have heard about the place, you may still be wondering what's so great about the bathroom -- a bathroom in the basement nonetheless. But if you grew up in Traverse City like I did, you just might be saying, "Oh, yeah, those bathrooms are cool!"
Walking downstairs at the State instantly takes me back to 1985, when a movie poster hung on the wall announcing that Coming Soon! was some new movie about time travel starring that guy from Family Ties. I wish I remembered all the movies I saw at the State as a kid - I know there were quite a few - but mostly I just remember being in junior high, when it was the place to hang out and make out.
I'm pretty sure it's where I held hands with a boy I liked for the very first time. (I think the movie was Legal Eagles, a Robert Redford-Darryl Hannah-Debra Winger dud that I'm not even sure why I wanted to see given that I was in maybe in fifth or sixth grade at the time...Maybe it was because it starred that actress who was a mermaid? I don't remember anything about this movie, other than I had sweaty palms in the beginning as I wondered if and when Joey Farrell's fingers would ever touch mine outside of the popcorn container.)
The theatre itself, including a sweeping balcony and the rows of seats down low, are gorgeously re-stored after a longtime-coming renovation of this downtown landmark built in 1918. But the bathrooms? They likely got some sprucing up, but look the same as they ever did, which is just fine with me. The tiled floors and walls of the "sitting room," even the mirror hanging above the tiled bench, are all how I remember them. At the bottom of the stairs I take it all in, and I swear I can almost see my 13-year-old self standing with my girlfriends dabbing on lip gloss and ratting our bangs before spraying our hair with Aquanet.
This morning, we took our kids to the State, to see the clever flick Nanny McPhee. You can't beat the admission price to these 10:30 a.m. matinees: 25 cents. But even greater is the thrill I get from taking my kids to a place that's part of my childhood story. The older I get, it seems, the more I appreciate my hometown and really want my kids to get to know just how cool it is themselves.
Down in those bathrooms this weekend, I overheard an interesting conversation that proved I'm far from alone in carrying with me memories of the State.
"Oh, it's such a treat to be here," a woman appearing in her 60s or 70s told her friend. "I remember coming here with my friends, and we'd stay right on through the first movie and watch a second. Then we'd walk home to my house on 14th Street..."
The women continue talking about the theatre, how wonderful it is to see it come back to life. I couldn't agree more.
The State is home to the Traverse City Film Festival, which celebrates its 5th year this summer, July 28-Aug. 2.Check out the web site for Film Fest info as well as movie times and admission prices. You can also order tickets online.
It was nearly a year ago when a friend ended an email to me with this question. I was surprised she'd asked since it didn't seem like her kind of thing, this online social media stuff which back then I associated with college students, that generation for whom I babysat, those kids who downloaded music that if I were listen to would suddenly make me -- me! -- feel old. I also figured FB was more a spot to score hook-ups (or worse, thanks to those icky news reports of child molesters scouring online sites like MySpace).
My friend -- a beautiful, smart, classy woman who reminds me of Carolyn Bessette Kennedy -- certainly didn't fit the profile. Even after she told me she was on FB, I told myself I probably wouldn't ever go there, wouldn't be one of those people who seemingly get so tech-driven that they choose cyber interactions over the real-live kind. Emailing, texting, a writers' online forum - those were enough for me.
But Facebook kept popping up in conversation. "It's great!" my poised friend assured me. And then other friends -- intelligent, thoughtful, same-age-as-me friends -- started telling me the same. "You can share pictures of your kids...You can find long-lost friends you haven't seen in ages -- people you really want to find again!"
So, what's a girl like me to do? I'm cut from the curious cloth, after all, so what in the world was I waiting for? Shouldn't I find out for myself what all the fuss was about? So I did.
Now, I could be wrong, but I think Facebook and me, we're past the honeymoon phase. So I think I'm safe to share thoughts about this incredibly delicious time-suck without sounding overly excited and naive. I've gone through the initial overwhelm, the subsequent confusion, the surprising stings, the absolute awe and the tiring addiction. What I haven't reached, though I'm sure it's not far off, is what a friend so eloquently describes as "The Facebook Plateau." (Though even she acknowledged it was probably just the peach schnapps talking when she typed that status update...which reminds me, drunk facebooking = bad idea. Or so I've, um, heard.)
What stands out most to me, about three months into FB, is the sheer amount of people joining in. And I don't think this is really a case of me coming late to the party. I believe Facebook is spreading like wildfire, among people of all ages. Actually, it's pretty true if you look at the numbers: 150 million people across the globe are Facebook users as of Jan. 7, 2009, with half of these people logging in every day (yep, me included). Not bad for a 5-year-old site initially created by a Harvard whiz who wanted a simple way for his classmates to post profiles, browse or search for fellow students, view uploaded pictures and share their affiliations and interests. You can read more about 24-year-old Mark Zuckerberg's amazing feat here.
I wonder sometimes if Facebook's allure will fade, if we all won't tire of it and end up wondering what we were on when we spent so much time telling our network we're "busy folding whites," "watching the game," "excited about a kid-free night out!" or "about to sit down with a glass of wine." Will we think it's strange that we chose hanging out virtually (i.e. spying on our "friends") over in-person conversation with our neighbors, our kids, our partners?
And what about those status updates anyway? Does anyone else feel the pressure of being at your wittiest, your funniest, your best when you post something? I read a very clever article recently by Los Angeles writer Patricia Beauchamp about status envy. Here's a snippet of that article, the entirety of which you can read here:
"The underlying truism to the saying 'The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence' is that appearances are deceiving. But since Facebook has added a new level of voyeurism to surveying your neighbor's yard, I find myself wondering, more than I would like to, whether other people's lives really are better. After all, we have access to our friends' photos, videos and correspondence -- most everything but their tax returns -- which tend to support whatever claims they're making. If Casey's update says she "is living in paradise, being waited on hand and foot by a league of celebrity look-alikes," chances are that pictures will follow."
But, still. Let me say this: I find Facebook incredible cool, and honestly think it's pretty genius. Here are just a few reasons why:
* I'm truly feeling more connected with people who live in the same city as me. It's not that I don't want to talk with friends and family in person, it's just that none of us has the time! Now, yes, I still gab with friends in real life at coffee shops and restaurants. I see my parents and in-laws on a regular basis. I am not a hermit crab sitting in my pjs, staring at a computer screen all day long (at least, not most days). But, all that said, I now know more about what my friends and family are up to, are interested in and are talking about because of Facebook. They share what they want to share online, and I do the same. It's simple, it's easy, it's done on our own time. And it ends up enhancing our face-to-face time.
* There was a reason I was great friends with certain people from my past. Who is to know if I ever would have really made amends with one of my high school BFFs if it wasn't for Facebook (time and maturity has helped too, yes). Somehow, sharing photos of our kids and updating each other on our lives online has eased the silly-yet-real pain we caused each other all those years ago. Cheers to that!
* I never wanted to lose touch with some individuals - but life happens. I felt like I hit a Facebook jackpot the night I connected with friends I had while working at my college newspaper. I'm not kidding you when I say I felt like I unlocked a part of myself that desperately needed to be dusted off when I found these people and caught up with them. I was reminded why I went into the profession I am in and how these people were there when I was discovering this important part of myself.
* It's a new way of networking. Lately I've been intrigued by how we can help one another grow our businesses, whether we're working for a company or for ourselves. I love how people are posting their ventures and asking others to become "fans." Writer friends share links to their articles as well as suggest things to read. Good for us, I say. I suppose as a writer I am especially interested in new and different things happening in the world, but I think we all are. We all like to be connected, to know what's going on, especially when it comes to people we know. Facebook gives us that opportunity. And even non-businesses can get a boost --like my book club. A few of us have been talking lately about how we can discuss books in between gatherings via Facebook, now that we're all online. That's a pretty cool thing.
I can only imagine things will get even more interesting on Facebook as time goes on. One thing I think about is how we'll handle our kids wanting to open an account. So far, we deal with whose turn it is to play Webkinz when it comes to computer usage. But that will change soon enough, I know.
What do you love most about Facebook? What could you do without? And most importantly, What are you doing right now?
**UPDATE: Came across this funny video about Facebook etiquette today...**
In the spirit of our upcoming historic presidential inauguration, I couldn't resist sharing this. And, a healthy debate is always a good thing in life, wouldn't you agree?
The following comes from a news release I received today from an editor contact of mine at Ms. magazine. I'll save my opinion for the end of this post...
Special Inaugural Ms. Issue Stirs Buzz & Debate
Ms. magazine’s new special inaugural issue has stirred up a lot of excitement—and some controversy. The striking cover by illustrator Tim O’Brien shows President-elect Obama opening his suit, Superman-style, to reveal the iconic “This is What a Feminist Looks Like” T-Shirt. Playing on the existing superhero imagery around the president-elect—who has himself joked “I was actually born on Krypton”--the cover reflects both the national and feminist mood of high expectations and hope as the 44th President of the United States takes the oath of office.
“This cover speaks for itself—we’re proud the president-elect identifies as a feminist,” says Ms. Executive Editor Katherine Spillar.
The cover has drawn acclaim on feminist blogs such as Feministe and Jezebel, where posted comments call it “awesome,” “inspirational” and “fantastic,” and one feminist says, “It shows pride in using the word feminist instead of derision that we’ve had for years.”
And feminist author Naomi Wolf went on CNN to defend the cover, saying, “Ms. sensibly [and] very obviously points out that this is what a feminist looks like.”
But it’s also stirred up a firestorm from PUMA PAC, a group that pledges to watchdog the Obama administration. They’ve launched an email and phone campaign to tell us “how laughable and insulting it is for [Ms.] to claim that Obama is a feminist.”
We at Ms. stand by our cover and embrace the opportunity to affirm that men can be feminists, too. Obama—who ran on the strongest platform for women's rights of any major party in U.S. history—self-identifies a feminist. Of course, we’re not wearing rose-colored glasses. As Ms. publisher Eleanor Smeal says in a Huffington Post editorial: “We are not giving President-Elect Obama a blank check. For our hopes to be achieved, we must speak out and organize, organize, organize to enable our new president's team to achieve our common goals. Ultimately, we must hold our leaders' feet to the fire, or to put it more positively, uplift them when they are caught in the crosscurrents of competing interests.” (See http://www.huffingtonpost.com/eleanor-smeal/this-is-what-a-feminist-l_b_157531.html)In this spirit, the editors of Ms. asked feminist leaders, experts, and activists—along with our readers—to share their visions of what must be done to move forward at this extraordinary time. Statements from Kim Gandy, bell hooks, Margaret Cho, Alice Walker, Ani DiFranco, Cynthia Enloe, Dolores Huerta, the editors of Feministing.com, and many others are in the current issue of Ms. and at http://msmagazine.com/winter2009/VisionOfChange_quotes.asp.
-- What I like best? That a man can indeed, rightfully be called a feminist. Way to go, Ms. magazine.
You sure show up at just the right time, and this is said without a hint of sarcasm. Honest.
After all that holiday and birthday craziness your friends November and December throw my way each year, I'm more than ready to welcome you in for a nice, cozy stay. It's not about the resolutions thing you're so well known for, either. No, it's just this feeling you evoke, a sense of calm, of cleanliness even. I definitely feel it the moment the Christmas decorations come down, because let's face it: after 30+ days of blinking lights, stockings ultimately hanging haphazardly from the mantel and a Christmas tree that by the end has seen better days (not to mention better ornaments, thanks to a 3-year-old who ate an astonishing amount of the edible varieties), it all becomes a bit gaudy.
So, here you are, providing me with what feels like a clean slate. And, I don't need to tell you, my friend, that I'm very excited about saying sayanara to 2008.
And yet...as thrilled as I am to see you again, I'd be lying if I said you didn't bring with you some melancholy, just a teeny tiny bit. This is why: stretching out as far as I can see is....winter. Now, I am generally ok with winter. I like snow and even the cold. I'm a northern Michigan girl, after all. But still. For all of your wonderful attributes, January, I find myself pining for warmer times. Maybe at least you could allow some more sunshine to filter though?
But listen: I do love you for the following reasons: 1.) There's no better time to devour some really good books. I'm currently in the middle of The Year of Fog by Michelle Richmond. A quick, suspenseful read that's tough to put down. I also recently read Same Kind of Different as Me, an incredible true story of two men you'd never imagine would become close friends, but do. Another recent fave, the historical fiction book Loving Frank, which haunted me in a good way for weeks after completing it. 2.) SmartWool socks. These are just too cool. They keep your toes toasty, not sweaty. They come in all sorts of styles and colors, including cushioned which is great for running. They're available online, but I found my two beloved pairs for less $ at Yoga for Health in Traverse City, MI. Not the cheapest pair of socks you'll ever buy, but well worth the price. 3.) An indoor perennial that brings color inside. My friend Jenna gave us two potted Paperwhite bulbs just before Christmas, and I couldn't believe how quickly this flower bloomed. Highly fragrant, she made sure to just give us two. They're elegant, simple and beautiful.
I could go on, but I better say bye for now.
- Me
How about anyone else? What gets you through the winter blahs?
In one of those serendipitous moments that come along now and again, my friend Meg handed me the Spirit of the Marathon DVD the day after I signed up for my first marathon. I hadn't heard about this 2007 documentary until Meg mentioned how she'd just watched it and was completely moved by the film's following of both first-time and veteran runners preparing for the Chicago Marathon. We often recommend movies to each other, and this one was a definite one to watch, she told me.
I must say this before I go on: No one is more surprised than I that I'm digging running these days. Well, maybe my high school girlfriends, one of whom I saw this past week and who just stared at me a little slack-jawed and a bit speechless when the topic came up and I shared how I'd decided to sign up for the Bayshore Marathon. Not that I was a complete couch potato or anything back in the day, but I was decidedly not the cross-country running type. I didn't much care for exercise of any kind, really, unless you count my perfecting of a toe-touch. Voluntarily running mile after mile, going round and round a track? Now why in the world would anyone choose to do that?
But a lifetime later, I find myself taking time out of my days to lace up and run the roads and trails, even in the cold and snow, which really is mind-boggling if you think about it. I've subjected myself to several races even. And the kicker is that most of the time I actually like this madness. Even so, what's struck me in the past few years that I've taken to this sport is just how hard it is. Sure, some days are easier than others - the hills don't kill you as badly and your lungs and legs don't feel like they'll give at any moment - but really, it's a challenge each and every time. Not just physically, but mentally. Why go run when there's so many other things to do? When you could just as easily sit and veg?
That's why I loved this documentary so much. It answers that question of why anyone in their right mind would agree to run 26.2 miles. (History buffs will like learning about the origin of 'marathon' and there's some fascinating info on the 26.2-mile distance and how it affects our bodies.) Watching this affirmed my belief that running truly is a metaphor for life. There's days you're loving what you're doing, when your world of family, work and friends is jiving so well and you can't imagine things getting much better....and then, there's times you just want to give up, or at the very least, stop for awhile to catch your breath and maybe take a different route. But no matter what, you keep going, even when you don't want to or don't think you can, usually because you somehow find that inner strength and if you're lucky, have amazing people in your life to cheer you on.
One of my favorite lines from the film is from women's running pioneer Kathrine Switzer: "You triumph over the adversity, that's what the marathon is all about. And therefore you know there isn't anything in life you can't triumph over after that." (Kathrine, by the way, was the first woman to officially enter and run the Boston Marathon, nearly getting kicked out while she ran because she was female. Love her.)
This movie spoke to me because I run, but even if I didn't, I imagine I'd be inspired by these six individuals and their stories of how training for a marathon changed their lives. Check out the trailer, or better yet, watch this movie. Love it? Think I'm nuts? Let me know - I'd love to hear your thoughts.
You know when you stumble onto something and it's just so cool and different and fun that you just have to tell someone about it? Lucky for me, I get to write about a lot of these kinds of things in newspapers and magazines. But not always. So I started this, to share the good, simple things in life I come across that I don't want to keep to myself. Who knows, I may end up writing about these things elsewhere, but for now, here's where they are. Have an idea for me? Want to share something you've found that made you smile inside? Let me know!
I adore this photo of my grandparents, taken on the Au Sable River in northern Michigan in the early 1930s. My grandparents - Herbie and Jeri - were married more than 60 years and I love how this photo captures a moment very early on in their relationship. 
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