Magic Jewball

People always like to brag about how you can get everything delivered in New York, and that might be true, but the trouble is that there are no superstores so no one store will never have all the things you need on a given day. Also, that I’m a poor student and can’t pay extra to have lots of things delivered. So today, I got out from under my multi-blankets and shopped for all the things I require. Here was my list:

• Decongestant
• Antihistamine
• Tissues
• Chicken soup
• Matzo balls
• Chicken pot pie
• Apple juice
• Brown sugar*

*I promised chocolate chip cookie cake to the fine folks putting up with me at my internship school later this week. There is no medicinal value, despite what Mick Jagger says.

As you can tell, I’m illin’. But I plan on being drugged and full of assorted chickeny foods very shortly. I just hope I’m better in time for my favorite holiday, Half-Price Chocolate Day.

I really wanted to call this post “Puffs plus one.” But that made no sense. Still, this song is in my head.
Haircut 100 – Love Plus One

When I was a kid, one of the things my mother did as an educational consultant was to do workshops. In my life, I have to admit, I never knew what the hell a workshop was. I figured this out decades later as a grad student in education. Pretty much within the last year, in fact. I go to a lot of them now and sort of wish I could go back in time and tell my mother that I know what she’s talking about. She’d usually say something like, “I did an Early Childhood workshop and they loved me!” And she would always say this in a totally surprised and authentically appreciative voice. The thing I got out of this was that my mother was good at her job and people liked her performance. Naturally, this never amazed me as her daughter. But I still had no idea what the thing she did actually was.

When I typed that first line of the post, I hesitated at what job description to give my mother because I honestly never knew her title until her last one, and that’s because I have her old business card. As an adult, I am able to label her job as “educational consultant.” You may wonder what I told people my mother did when I was a child and didn’t have a handy term like “teacher” or “lawyer.” What I would tell people was, “my mother teaches teachers how to teach.” Just like I told people my father was a doctor who treated sick computers. In reality, he had a Ph.D. in engineering and worked at IBM. But doctor has a distinct meaning to kids.

This blog is focused quite a lot on the ongoing dialogue between me and my past. I’m always sort of reaching towards it, sometimes tussling with it, often trying to make my peace with it, and always trying to figure it out. Tomorrow, that is, today in a few hours, I go back to my old high school to give an introductory presentation which will eventually lead up to a series of workshops. Many of my former teachers still teach there and will be in the audience. If you imagine I am freaked out by this, just jack that image up a bit and that’s where I’m at. You may even wonder why I said yes to this (especially as it’s a holiday and my day off – and I’m not getting paid). In the 30 seconds I had to consider it, my line of thought was this: the only reason I wouldn’t do this is because I’m afraid to do this. And that’s not a good enough reason. But that doesn’t make me less afraid.

When I was in high school, I often came in unprepared. I’m a procrastinator and, like most teenagers, I liked to slack off. Well, I still like to slack off. I did wait till the last day to put together my presentation, but it was more because I have so little time. And the fact that I finished it the night before and not in the car on the way to school (or in the class before… or in the class) already puts me ahead of where I was then. But I do wonder if the teachers will look at me and think, “wasn’t she the one whose grade I lowered because she had a bad attitude?” (That actually happened.) Or, “I really think that girl nearly failed my class.” (That happened a few times, too.) Why the hell should they listen to me?

Well, for one thing, because I know technology and they don’t. But mostly because if I’m old, that means they’re really old and probably don’t remember that I actually even sat in their classrooms. One can hope, anyway.

So the big birthday came and went and because I wasn’t sure what to do, I did everything. That is, I celebrated all week. Here were some of my thoughts over the Big Birthday Week.

I went to see West Side Story, the Broadway show, on my birthday eve. If you haven’t kept up with the blog, it’s my favorite musical and possibly my favorite movie of all time. However, I am not a theater person so there was a bit of a risk there. If you really love a movie, it’s always hard reading the book after or seeing a remake and noting all the differences. I tried hard not to do this and just to enjoy it being performed in front of me but there were some places that I think they really messed up. For starters, they rearranged things so that Officer Krupke was after the rumble scene. I don’t know about you, but I kind of think jokey songs are out of place after a big death scene. Also, it was hard to have Riff sing it after he was dead.

The worst thing was Tony, though. The actor who played him and also the rearrangement of some of the lines made him seem like a guy who had left gang life because he felt the Jets were has-beens, not because he had grown up and moved on. Tony’s essential goodness is what makes you root for him and the reason you believe Maria fell for him across a crowded room. This Tony seems like he just wanted to get into Maria’s pants. That really changed it for me. But I loved the music and the dancing; that made it worth it. And Bernardo and Anita were both wonderful.

Almost everyone I know has seen WSS or at least knows the story (hint: it’s nearly the same story as Romeo & Juliet). We were probably the only New Yorkers in the theater. WSS has been there a long time and it’s not Wicked or The Producers. It was obvious lots of people were from other countries where maybe it’s not as big? It was nice to see their reactions. There was an audible gasp when Chino shoots Tony… wow! I’ve never seen that happen, even when seeing it in the movie theater.

***

I went to work on my birthday day and I didn’t tell them it was my birthday. I don’t really know them and didn’t want to share my day with anyone there. While I was at my desk, thanks to someone’s tweet, I found a site which streams old airtapes from WLIR, my station of choice in the 80′s and early 90′s. It was pretty nifty listening to the “radio” exactly as I did then, with the old DJ’s and music. It didn’t feel sentimental, it felt like I could see my life as a continuum from then till now. I’m the same person, after all. The funniest part was that when they’d play a song I really liked, I’d get that familiar tingle of, “they’re playing my favorite song on the radio!” But, of course, it was just a recording and if I played it again, they’d be playing my song again. But you can’t help that feeling.

***

I like to celebrate other people’s birthdays via Facebook, because it saves you a lot of effort in writing an e-mail or sending a card or making a call. I’m just that lazy. But it pays off like a chain letter on your own day. It was lovely to get pinged on my phone every few minutes that someone had posted on my wall. On the other hand, it’s weird when people you know from your childhood say things that are then read by people you know now. And more than a little embarrassing, sometimes. People, that was for cards, not my public wall.

***

Just as I was going to dinner before the theater, I got an e-mail from someone whose blog was on my blogroll to tell me that no, really, his blog is actually dead. I had left it there after the purge anyway, because I like him and hoped he would bring it back. But he wrote some kind things about this blog in the note and that was a great birthday present. Maybe the best. If you are him, I will write you back soon, and I removed the link, per request.

***

I never go to Starbucks anymore. It’s too expensive and frivolous for someone who had their first overdraft on their birthday (more on this in a moment). Back when I was at Big Wealthy Record Company, my boss bought us Starbucks every day. Now, I get Seattle’s Best coffee for $1.25 including tax at my school cafeteria. But I did have a Starbucks tradition on my birthday where I would get the fanciest drink they had on the day. It usually cost $6 and had 1600 calories. This year, I got a Chai Tea latte, formerly an any day drink for me. While I was on my way to Starbucks, I ran into a friend from my job last year and we went together. Naturally, I told her it was my birthday, because I am a birthday person. That is, I like people saying, “happy birthday!” in that way that acknowledges, “this day is about you!” She insisted on buying me my drink, which was really kind of her, since she doesn’t make much either. But that’s the great thing about birthdays: it’s OK to admit for one day that it’s all about you.

***

In case you think KP and I have abandoned our tradition of going out for cupcakes in the week between our birthdays, you would be wrong! But only partially. We had brunch, instead. You can’t really have dessert with brunch. But it was OK, biscuit with strawberry butter is an awesome alternative.

***

The day before my birthday, at work, I played phone tag with the help desk about a system I couldn’t get into. My password was supposed to involve the last 4 digits of my SSN but it never worked. The help desk kept saying, “it works for us!” That really put the “help” in help desk. Finally, five minutes before I was to leave for dinner and the theater, they called me and said, “So…… it seems there are two Becca Jewballs in the system. Are you the one who was born in 1970 or the one who was born in 1980?” This is really the question everyone wants to be asked on the eve of a big, round numbered birthday, isn’t it? Needless to say, they had figured me for the other one.

***

Between work and dinner on my birthday, I went to class. I had told my professor that I might not come, or that I might take it online (several people do) in the hopes that the Yankees would play at home and I could spend my birthday evening at the first play-off game. But the Yankees failed me in that one respect and so I had to make other plans. But my plans still involved taking the class online so I could leave from home and arrive on time. I didn’t mention my birthday, despite my previous story, because there didn’t seem a place to work it into the discussion of education and change. At the end of class, the professor said, “what a great class! Good discussion today.” To which I couldn’t help myself, and said jokingly, “I’m so glad it was a great class because it’s my birthday and I almost didn’t come.” Everyone, and this is really hard to do via webcam hookup, spontaneously broke into “Happy Birthday.” That was pretty kick ass.

***

On my last round-numbered birthday, I did an amazing thing and right on that day, I clicked the button on my bank’s website to make the final payment on a debt that had sometimes been as high as nearly $20k. Anyone from my youth will tell you that I was a frugal spendthrift. That is, I bought decently-priced things, but way more of them than I could afford. I really like to buy new things and thought I could never change. But one day, I did. I set up a spreadsheet in Excel and was horrified to see things as they really were. Through that spreadsheet and a good budget, I was able to change my ways, though. I have never since carried a credit card balance and was able to buy a home.

This year (and last), as I’ve said many times, things are different. I have little income but the same expenses. Rather than showing a paycheck on my spreadsheet, the majority of my income comes from savings, and I move it over bit by bit as needed so as to maximize interest in the other account. I mistimed my transfers, though, and when I went to take out cash from the ATM on my birthday, it said, “balance exceeded” and wouldn’t give me any. That was unsettling.

But today I found out that my transfer came in later that day and I incurred no fees after all. Still, I heartily wish you never get that message from the ATM on your birthday. Or any other day.

***

I spent a long time, probably too long, thinking about what I wanted to do on the day and who I would do it with. In the end, though, I settled on the birthday week idea. But once the Yankees had settled on Minnesota as their destination, I still had to come up with something to do that evening that involved the game in a way that made me look forward to it all day. I decided to go to my favorite restaurant downtown with my dear friend, The Appliance Guy. I knew we had done that many years during the play-offs, because I can recall seeing many of those games out of the corner of my eye while eating there. So we did. While at dinner, The Appliance Guy said, “you know, they always lose while we’re here.” Oops, I had not remembered that. At the time we left the restaurant, it was 3-0 Minnesota. By the time I got home, it was 3-1 Minnesota. Within ten minutes it was 4-3 Yankees. The Yankees ended up winning 6-4. I may rethink my plans for next year.

***

When I walked out of the restaurant into Times Square, it felt magical and great, and I was listening to magical and great music on my iPod, Simple Minds. Listening to the line, “she would like to make a wish!” while feeling great and high on your birthday surrounded by the lights and people of Times Square you just have to…. tweet. So I did. The picture ended up being, basically, of a large Dunkin’ Donuts sign. They may have to work on that whole “ability to share magical moments” thing.

***

Are you noticing something missing from all these stories? Yes! Cake! Where was my birthday cake? It didn’t arrive until yesterday when Brother1 took me out to Butterflake for a slab of layer cake. I got Apple-Walnut with cream cheese frosting. I am eating the leftovers right now (when I said a slab, I meant a slab). When the last crumb is gone, I think the week will be over.

Simple Minds – Speed Your Love To Me (YouTube)

I didn’t have the holiest of Rosh Hashanahs but I have spent some time in this week of repentance in contemplation of myself as a person and thinking about things I could improve. I’ve made a lot of changes in my lifetime, but somehow, I think, we all encounter the same issues whenever we think about changing ourselves. It’s the same each year: I won’t be so judgey! I won’t be so irritable! I’ll be nicer to people! And then, somehow, you’re just the same. I wondered what it does take to make change in one’s life and then, strangely, I was presented with a huge example.

Last week, when my team was here, folks sat in this one chair I have, and I meant to tell them the Story of the Chair, which I always do when someone sits in it. I think I do this, even though it happened over twenty years ago, because it still baffles and amazes me that it happened at all. At my college (the original one, not my grad school), you were kicked out of university housing after your freshman year and mostly left to your own devices to secure a place to live for the next three years. My friends and I arranged to rent a rowhouse near campus, but our lease didn’t start until late summer which left the matter of where to store some of our belongings until we moved in. One of the libraries, a grand old “reading room” was being redone and they sold all their furniture to students on the cheap. It was a fun sight watching the frat guys walk away with the long tables previously used for study – presumably to a new and different future. I bought one chair, a deep dark wood with black leather padding at the back and seat, to use as my future desk chair. But I couldn’t take it home to NY for the summer and my future roommates had things of this nature as well. Another friend, I’ll call him J., was moving into his new place immediately and offered to hold all our things until then.

I should talk a minute about my connection with J. here. We were extremely close. We came from the same county and had mutual friends from high school. We lived across the hall from each other and occasionally when my roommate had a gentleman caller and his roommate was with his significant other, I’d sleep over completely platonically. We even shared the same birthday, which we celebrated together. And he was a real confidant to me. So it was completely natural for him to make this nice offer and we stuck our library purchases and a few other things in J’s new basement.

Fast forward to the day I went to pick up my stuff and I went down with J. to the basement to get my chair and the other things. Except, J. insisted that the chair was his. At first I thought he was kidding. It’s hard to remember exactly, but I think there was another slightly different chair that he claimed was mine. “Mine has scratches on the back right leg,” I remember saying and sure enough, the one I claimed was mine did have that. But he insisted I was mistaken. There was a certain point in the argument where I think he knew he had made a mistake originally but did not want to admit it so just kept going. It was surreal. Why the hell would anyone lie about a $10 chair? Especially between two good friends? Finally, he grandly said that it was his but I could have it. I didn’t bother to fight this and just took it and left. But our friendship was really over. We barely spoke for a year and it was only probably the last year of school where we had friendly, superficial conversations.

As I’ve said, I still have that chair, even though it matches nothing in my home and is, of course, ancient. I keep it both to remind me of that library where I spent so much time and because I fought so hard for it – how could I let it go? But I think it’s that I also never understood what really happened or why. Last year, I friended him on Facebook. We had so many mutual friends and I had photos of my college years that I wanted to post which included him. We exchanged a couple of polite notes about our lives and then our Facebook relationship proceeded on like many: we never communicate but stay updated.

Last weekend, I was busy with my team but afterwards, when I checked Facebook, I saw that many people had written sympathetic things on his wall on 9/11 and that he had thanked them. It also linked to a page for a foundation. When I checked that out and Googled, I found that his brother had died in the Towers. I was stunned that in nine years I had never known that, but more than that was the fact that his entire family had transformed their lives to be dedicated to their son’s memory. That they had set up a foundation which I won’t identify here but that does amazing work. His parents who would probably be retired now, spend their lives in good deeds, done in their son’s name. Their message is simple: out of great evil can come great good. The message to me was, we are not who we were twenty years ago or even last year or last month. We constantly change and learn and grow. We always have the capability of making change in ourselves and in the world.

So as I go into Yom Kippur which begins tonight at sunset, I am inspired by my friend’s family. It is time to not just let change happen but to consciously take action and make positive change. May you have a meaningful Yom Kippur and a wonderful, happy, and healthy year.

Often, I don’t post because there’s nothing compelling to say. It’s rare these days that my life is so full of exciting things that I have no time to write (unless you find setting up a colloquium or reading pdf’s scintillating). But the last few weeks have really been chock full o’action, what with the Open, the holidays, and best of all, my weekend with Team Fabulous! doing the Race For the Cure. Although I totally enjoy exploring new cities with my teammates (see Denver and Austin), there was something nifty about welcoming them to New York and being on my own turf. Not to mention, this city is bigger than I could ever know, so I got to explore places I rarely see, like the tourist zones of Rockefeller Plaza and East Midtown, as well as Chinatown, Little Italy, and the Lower East Side. Also, Laguardia Airport and the Bolt Bus lane near the Tick Tock Diner. But aside from those, nearly everything was a first time for me, including the Lower East Side Tenement Museum, the NBC Studio Tour, Sylvia’s, and Dunkin Donuts of Chinatown. No wait, I may have visited there when I last had jury duty. Oh, and a clean apartment, that’s relatively new.

I have to say, I think this was my favorite of all our weekends, although they were all amazing. Maybe it’s the afterglow or maybe New York just is the greatest backdrop in the world. Really, I think I’m just so exhausted as to be delirious. I barely stopped for four days. I did miss my teammates, Teri, Tami, and Rachel, who couldn’t make it, and new teammate Mo, who had to bow out, but we had an amazing crew and a TON of fun (this is not a weight joke, although we did eat a lot). In other good news, I tested out gluten-free rugelach on actual gluten-free people and they scarfed them down, so I’m going to consider that four gluten-free thumbs up! So far, they’re still alive, too. Bonus!

And most importantly, we raised money for a great cause, one which people know is personally meaningful to me. Despite the gray day seen in this picture, you can tell there was a lot of joy involved. Of course, that all dissipated in the wake of the US Open final being rained out but no one yet knew that. I kid – it was all fabulous! Thanks so much to all who donated and made the event such a success. If you’d like to, you can still make a donation to our team through October 31st. I think at that point the witches fly the donations away on their broomsticks. It’s spooky how bad that joke was.

Thanks to all my teammates and all of our donators!

http://tinyurl.com/fabulous-nyc

Title from:
Rolling Stones – Miss You