My friend topsurf recently posed the following question on Twitter: When I say Philadelphia, what’s the first thing you think of?

OK.

That’s pretty easy at first blush – cheese steaks and cream cheese and Those Damn Phillies and Rocky and the Steps and Tom Hanks and the Liberty Bell and so on and so on…

But as I was musing upon this, I was struck with another thought of Philadelphia… one more personal. Of department stores and gentility and elegant chocolate and politeness and heart. That didn’t involve me setting foot in the city at all.

It was a winter’s eve, sometime between the Watergate hearings and the Three Mile Island brouhaha. We were settled into our evening routine, which included watching something on the five channels we got on the telly; reading; enjoying the cool humidless breeze blowing through the screens on windows and doors.

A press of the doorbell startled all of us. Not that it was particularly late – in fact, the front lights were still on, signaling that we were still up and available for callers. The bell was simply unexpected. Daddy, being the chivalrous man of the house, went to answer the door where he was greeted by an older gentleman standing on the threshold. This fellow was dapper and immaculately dressed – tweed jacket with patches on the elbows; shirt and tie; wool hat. He explained that his car had broken down in front of our house and could he trouble us to use our telephone to call for assistance. The answer was, of course, yes. In those days, it’s just what you did. It was a more trusting time in regard to such things.

While he waited for AAA to arrive, Mama, ever the hostess, invited him in, offering him something to drink. He accepted and he and my parents sat in the living room, a place reserved for special occasions and grownup conversation, making small talk

My brother and I weren’t privy to what was discussed and only after he had left did we learn that he was a snowbird (our affectionate phrase for winter residents here in Florida) from Philadelphia. And that he drove a very big car.

We didn’t think much about our visitor after that – until a week or so later when an unexpected package arrived addressed to my mother. From Wannamaker’s, which, Mama explained, was a very nice and “tony” department store in Philadelphia. Fortunately, I was one with the family dictionary and so the meaning of the word “tony” was not lost on me – after I had to look it up, of course. I really wasn’t quite as smart as I thought I was – chalk it up to the confidence of youth.

Anyhoo.

The box from Wannamaker’s contained another box – this one covered in green velvet and adorned with a big silk flower. Very sophisticated. Inside the box were two layers of Godiva chocolate. Mama’s favorite. A handwritten note was enclosed, graciously thanking our family – my mother in particular -- for our kindness and assistance. It was signed by our traveling visitor.

I don’t remember eating any of the chocolate – I’m thinking my mother bogarted it all for herself. (Being an only child, she has a self-proclaimed difficulty with sharing.) But when the box was empty, she called me into the living room, the place for special occasions and grownup conversation. She handed me the box, saying that every girl needed a place to keep letters and notes and mementos. And that the empty box, a remnant of a gift cloaked in grace and chivalry, would be the perfect place.

She was right.

I had that box for many years – through high school and college and after. It held letters of love and of heartbreak; reminders of emotions unrequited and ambiguous; photos of the heart and of the mind. Boyfriends and crushes and friends and foes and accomplishments and activities and events. All were contained in the It finally fell apart thanks in part to use and reuse and in part to the rigors of being something recherché in the harsh humid heat of Florida.

It’s emblematic, that box -- of things past, of things remembered. Of a time when manners were the norm, not the exception. When random acts of kindness were things that one just did without forethought or hesitation. When my tender heart measured things tangibly and repeatedly.

I miss that box. And that time. I keep my memories internally now. But you never know – one day, I might spy a prettily packaged box of sweets that would be perfect to hold treasures…

Time again for another installment of More Useless Information about Me. Enjoy!!

1. What time did you get up this morning?
6:30 am. Ugh. But at least it was of my own free will and not alarm-prompted.

2. How do you like your steak?
Rare. Red. Mooing. Get the picture?

3. What was the last film you saw at the cinema?
I cannot even remember. How sad is that.

4. What is your favorite TV show?
Mad Men/drama and 30 Rock/comedy

5. If you could live anywhere in the world where would it be?
Manhattan

6. What did you have for breakfast?
Kashi with vanilla soy milk. Mmm mmm good.

7. What is your favorite cuisine?
Probably Italian

8. What foods do you dislike?
Coconut, olives, black eyed peas, lima beans. Oh -- and gin. It's the debil. But y'all knew that already.

9. Favorite place to eat?
Wherever there's a table of people I love.

10. Favorite dressing?
Balsamic vinaigrette or bleu cheese

11. What kind of vehicle do you drive?
Honda Pilot

12. What are your favorite clothes?
A good LBD; a good pair of jeans; my black Chuck Taylors

13. Where would you visit if you had the chance?
South America

14. Cup 1/2 empty or 1/2 full?
Always half full. Always.

15. Where would you want to retire?
The Upper East Side

16. Favorite time of day?
Dusk, as long as there are no mosquitoes afoot

17. Where were you born?
St. Petersburg, FL

18. What is your favorite sport to watch?
Yes. ;-)

19. Bird watcher?
Only through an oven door to see if it needs basting.

20. Are you a morning person or a night person?
Yes. Depends on the day, actually

21. Do you have any pets?
Not at the moment

22. Any new and exciting news you'd like to share?
Nope.

23. What did you want to be when you were little?
Weathergirl or a talk show host

24. What is your best childhood memory?
Summers on Lake Lanier

25. Are you a cat or dog person?
Kitty-witty!

26. Are you married?
Yep

27. Always wear your seat belt?
Of course!

28. Been in a car accident?
Ugh. Yes.

29. Any pet peeves?
The cavalier use of the word "retarded" is my latest hot button. And people who are mean just for the sake of being mean.

30. Favorite pizza toppings?
Sausage, onion, extra cheese

31. Favorite flower?
Tulips. Always tulips.

32. Favorite ice cream?
Anything involving caramel

33. Favorite fast food restaurant?
Please. Have we just met? Chick-Fil-A, baby.

34. How many times did you fail your driver's test?
None! Go me!

35. From whom did you get your last email?
St. Pete Times with my daily Rays update

36. Which store would you choose to max out your credit card?
Either Nordstrom or, more likely, Barnes & Noble

37. Do anything spontaneous lately?
Yes, as a matter of fact, I did. Guess!

38. Like your job?
It's the job of my heart. Frustrating at times, but I can't imagine doing anything else.

39. Broccoli?
It depends. Sometimes yes, sometimes blech.

40. What was your favorite vacation?
The Alaskan cruise was pretty great -- as is anytime I'm in Manhattan

41. Last person you went out to dinner with?
My girls to the Churrascaria Plataforma in TriBeCa

42. What are you listening to right now?
Disney Channel. Don't ask.

43. What is your favorite color?
Purple

44. How many tattoos do you have?
Zero

45. What time did you finish this quiz? 8:19 am

46. Coffee drinker?
Kind of. Only really like it after dinner -- and then it's an espresso. Go figure.

I have just done something I hadn’t done in nearly 30 years.

No, I didn’t sneak a bunch of people into the drive-in by stuffing them into the trunk of my car.

No, I didn’t funnel beer straight from the keg (although truth be told, it’s been way less than 30 years since I did this)

No, I didn’t tie a huge bow in my hair after spraying it with a half can of Final Net, put on about 47 black rubber bracelets and pull up my ankle socks so they could be seen nicely above my black pumps.

I ran a mile. Without stopping.

A feat last accomplished in PE class my senior year in high school. Why I took PE my senior year is a foggy memory – I think it had to do with me having more than one elective on my schedule my junior year and needing to make it up before graduation.

Anyhoo.

I did it. I ran. A mile. Without stopping. . And then, a couple of days later, I did two. Sans break.

Wasn’t fast.

But I did it.

And I think I may have found a little piece of myself that’s lain fallow for nearly eight years.

At the very moment Will was born so abruptly and without warning, a large part of me – who I was, how I defined myself – ceased to exist. Which was necessary. Very necessary. Everything everything everything had to be channeled into ensuring that Will had whatever he needed in order to not only maximize his potential, but literally survive.

For several years, I focused solely on my child. Had to. No choice. And I did it gladly.

But while I was focused on him, I forgot about myself. In every sense of the word.

Partly out of necessity.

And partly out of guilt, for I felt paralyzingly responsible for his circumstance. My body had failed my child – failed to keep him safe. But that’s another story for another therapist’s couch.

As Will grew and stabilized and began to demand less and less of my intense attention, I became aware, first gradually and then acutely, of the floundering within my own self and psyche. I had let myself go, in myriad ways. At first I wallowed in it. Tears and self-flagellation a go-go. And then, finally, last fall, I did something about it.

I started to write a novel, taking care of the mental, creative me. And I began to work with a personal trainer, to assist the physical me.

All the parts of me are still works in progress – and always will be, as I firmly believe that growth is an integral and ongoing part of life. ‘Tis good for you, staves off stagnation.

So that mile I ran – it was much more than just 5280 feet. It was an individual victory. Sweeter than honey. My own gold medal, earned when I defeated my closest nemeses – my own personal demons.

Have a long way to go – my tuchus and core and thighs are testament to that, as is the holding pattern my book is in. But I think I’ve finally broken through the barriers I set for myself nearly eight years ago. And irony of ironies – who knew that taking care of oneself would make me a better mother. Which was my objective all along.

One small step on a treadmill. One giant step for me.

Yet even more information about me you didn't know you wanted to know. Until now.

1. When you looked at yourself in the mirror today, what was the first thing you thought?
Where’s my undereye de-puffer roller.

2. How much cash do you have on you?
$8

3. What’s a word that rhymes with DOOR?
Gabor

4. Favorite planet?
The big blue marble, natch.

5. Who is the 4th person on your missed call list on your cell phone?
Mikki

6. What is your favorite ring tone on your phone?
“Honky Tonk Woman” by the Stones

7. What shirt are you wearing?
My Old Navy ‘Vote Now’ t-shirt

8. Do you label yourself?
Sometimes I do when I’m in a “nobody likes me, everybody hates me, I’m gonna go eat worms” mood. But otherwise, no.

9. Name the brand of the shoes you’re currently wearing?
None. Please. Have we just met?

10. Bright or Dark Room?
Dark. I like it dark. Mwah hahahahaha. If I could get away with wearing my sunglasses inside and not look like a douchebagette, I totally would.

11. What do you think about the person who took this survey before you?
N/A. Leaving it here because I don’t feel like renumbering the bloody thing.

12. What does your watch look like?
Two-tone Timex. Stretchy band. El Cheapo from Tarzhay.

13. What were you doing at midnight last night?
Trying to fall asleep.

14. What did your last text message you received on your cell say?
A confirmation from The Trainer about today’s workout time

15. Where is your nearest 7-11?
Oooh – a couple of miles away. Near Tarzhay.

16. What's a word that you say a lot?
Seriously.

17. Who told you he/she loved you last?
Will! Unprovoked, even.

18. Last furry thing you touched?
A stuffed animal in Will’s room.

19. How many drugs have you done in the last three days?
Ibuprofen, Prozac, Endorphins (Whooooooo!!)

20. How many rolls of film do you need developed?
Z-E-R-O. And the age of this little exercise has just been exposed.

21. Favorite age you have been so far?
Thirty. Just old enough to know better and just young enough not to care.

22. Your worst enemy?
Myself.

23. What is your current desktop picture?
A piccie of my table set-up at the Algonquin taken on my last trip to NYC.

24. What was the last thing you said to someone?
“Quit singing and eat your breakfast. NOW.”

25. If you had to choose between a million bucks or to be able to fly what would it be?
The money. Flying is what airplanes are for.

26. Do you like someone?
But of course.

27. The last song you listened to?
“I’m Gonna Run to the City of Refuge” ~ The 77s

28. What time of day were you born?
7 am and change. On a Sunday.

29. What’s your favorite number?
7

30. Where did you live in 1987?
Gainesville and The 'Burg -- both in the F-L-A.

31. Are you jealous of anyone?
To be honest – yes, yes I am.

32. Is anyone jealous of you?
I doubt it. But maybe. Actually, yeah, there might be one or two, now that I think about it. Why, I can’t imagine. But actions say it is perhaps true.

33. Where were you when 9/11 happened?
At work.

34. What do you do when vending machines steal your money?
Swear. Again, have we just met?

35. Do you consider yourself kind?
I like to think so.

36. If you had to get a tattoo, where would it be?
On my hip. An ampersand.

37. If you could be fluent in any other language, what would it be?
Spanish.

38. Would you move for the person you loved?
Yes.

39. Are you touchy feely?
Oh sure... quite.

40. What’s your life motto?
I have two: You are stronger than you think. And it’s better to ask forgiveness than permission.

41. Name three things that you have on you at all times?
Phone. Earrings. Sunglasses.

42. What’s your favourite town/city?
New York City

43. What was the last thing you paid for with cash?
A hot dog at the ball game yesterday.

44. When was the last time you wrote a letter to someone on paper and mailed it?
I cannot even remember. Sad, really.

45. Can you change the oil on a car?
If that means taking it to the mechanic, then yes – yes I can.

46. Your first love: what is the last thing you heard about him/her?
That he is living in Maryland.

47. How far back do you know about your ancestry?
I can go back to the mid-1700s. Not bad, not great.

48. The last time you dressed fancy, what did you wear and why did you dress fancy?
Theatre and dinner in NYC. Wore my LBD and great shoes. Plus pearls.

49. Does anything hurt on your body right now?
My hamstrings and glutes are tight from my Friday workout. This problem will either be alleviated or exasperated with my Monday workout here shortly.

50. Have you been burned by love?
Absolutely.

Many years later, as he faced the firing squad, Colonel Aureliano Buendía was to remember that distant afternoon when his father took him to discover ice.
~ One Hundred Years of Solitude

The First Time I Saw Snow: An Essay

Immediately I recognized it.

Cold. White. Wondrous. Cascading from the sky. Showering down on me. Making the landscape of Park City, Utah that much more gorgeous.

This was it. Snow. I looked around for enough on the ground to make a snow angel. Or a snow man. Or a snow ball. Anything.

Snow. It was awesome.

And I was 35 years old.

Can you say native Floridian?

~~~~~~~~~~~

We were in Park City for a business function of the mister's -- his company was having their annual company meeting and Park City was the place. Although it was early spring, I had high hopes of finally seeing up close and personal the mystical white snow that had eluded me for so long.

It wasn't that I avoided snow. The opportunity to experience it just had never presented itself before.

Oh, I'd had several near misses:
* The ski trip to North Carolina with my church high school youth group.
Fake snow on the slopes.
* The ski trip to North Carolina as a chaparone for our church high school youth group.
Fake snow on the slopes.
* The smattering of flakes that fell one freaky cold Christmas eve in Orlando, where I was spending time with family. Don't count that.

So can imagine my delight when we drove our rental car out of Salt Lake City in route to our hotel and I saw the landscape covered in white. That was only heightened by the flurries that flew about the next day as I hilariously and spectacularly unsuccessfully took a beginners ski class.

Ooooh. That was bad. Really bad. Not pretty. Needless to say, I became an expert at apres ski very quickly.

However it wasn't enough to dampen my spirits as I came face to face with the only aspect of Mother Nature's bounty I really yearned for.

Snow.

I got in it, around it, through it. And threw it. Happily. Big kid. I had a lot of time and antics to make up for.

Fantastic.

I know it's a pain to live in for months at a time. It's ugly when tinged with the soot and grime of everyday life. It's problematic when driving.

But in that moment, when it was pristine and pure and gracious -- it was beautiful.

Well worth the wait.

Tough evening here at my house.

Frustrating.

Angry.

Tearful.

For both Will and me.

He's sleeping now, cheeks still pink and eyes red-rimmed from crying.

All because he and his mama had a communication stalemate.

My brave little boy wanted something tonight -- something that involved "turning it on." But he never could get me to understand what it was he wanted.

I tried everything. Oh, how I tried. We played with every toy that was tumbled onto the floor of his room. Music was turned on and off. Lights flickered.

"Will, please tell Mama what it is you want."

"I need you to turn it on."

And so it went. For over an hour. Neither one of us able to break through the wall and get to that ah-ha moment we both so desperately wanted.

I finally walked away, to try and gather my thoughts and to glean some clarity. He closed the door of his room and sobbed angrily. I had not been able to meet his need. He had not been able to tell me what that need was.

I can see the frustration in his eyes. Hear it in his voice. He wants so much to engage with me, to share things with me.

His skill set just isn't cooperating.

And it breaks my heart. I want to help him. But even my best efforts weren't enough. Not this time.

So as he sleeps, I will try to figure out what it was he was trying to tell me. Hoping for the best.

Tomorrow is another day. after all.

(special thanks, once again, to Perpstu for the meme. She's awesome, you know.)

1. I’ve come to realize that my chest-size… is real and spectacular.

2. I’ve come to realize that my job… is the hardest thing I’ve ever done and I never feel as if I'm doing it right.

3. I’ve come to realize that when I’m driving… I sing very loudly to whatever’s on the radio.

4. I’ve come to realize that I need… to cut myself a break.

5. I’ve come that realize that I have lost… a pure sense of who I am.

6. I’ve come to realize that I hate it when… people are narrow-minded.

7. I’ve come to realize that if I’m drunk… I loooooove everrrrryooooone.

8. I’ve come to realize that money… is a necessary evil.

9. I’ve come to realize that certain people… will never change.

10. I’ve come to realize that I’ll always… wear my heart on my sleeve.

11. I’ve come to realize that my sibling… is one of my best friends.

12. I’ve come to realize that my mom… wasn’t always right.

13. I’ve come to realize that my cell phone… needs to be charged regularly.

14. I’ve come to realize that when I woke up this morning… it was too damn early.

15. I’ve come to realize that last night before I went to sleep… I remembered to moisturize.

16. I’ve come to realize that right now I am thinking… about what to have for dinner.

17. I’ve come to realize that my dad… was always my biggest ally.

18. I’ve come to realize that when I get on Facebook… Mafia Wars will be played.

19. I’ve come to realize that today… is finishing much better than it started.

20. I’ve come to realize that tonight… there is no Rays game and I’m at a loss at what to do!

21. I’ve come to realize that tomorrow… is another day.

22. I’ve come to realize that I really want to… write. And write. And write.

23. I’ve come to realize that the person mostly likely to repost this is.. no telling.

24. I’ve come to realize that life… is fragile and precious.

25. I’ve come to realize that this weekend… will be what I make it.

26. I’ve realized the best music to listen to when I am upset… is jazz.

27. I’ve come to realize that my friends… are too few and far between.

28. I’ve come to realize that this year… has been enlightening.

29. I’ve come to realize that my exes… are exes for a reason.

30. I’ve come to realize that maybe I should… finish cleaning my office.

31. I’ve come to realize that I love… passionately.

32. I’ve come to realize that I don’t understand… myself sometimes.

33. I’ve come to realize my past… is to be learned from.

34. I’ve come to realize that parties.. are to be enjoyed, not feared.

35. I’ve come to realize that I’m totally terrified… of not living up to my potential.

36. I’ve come to realize that my life… is an evolutionary work in progress.

We take our grilling very seriously in my family. And by we, I mean the male members of my clan. And by the male members of my clan, I really mean my daddy.

If I’m the Original Carnivore Girl, then Pops is the Carnivore King. The man never met a piece of beef he didn’t like. The scent of charcoal is part of my genetic makeup. I think my first real meal was probably a cheeseburger off Daddy’s grill. There was a ritual to our summer evening meals – Daddy would come home from work, put on some shorts and flip flops (but often leaving on his white undershirt), get a beer and go light the grill. If we were out playing in the neighborhood, the smell of the grill lighting up was our signal to come on home. Dinnertime was approaching. And nothing ever tasted so good as one of those burgers with a slice of American cheese sliding down the sides. With some Hi-C Citrus Cooler to wash it down.

As adept as I like to think I am in the kitchen, I am not a griller. But I do like a good burger (rare, with grilled onions if we’re going traditional.) For our Fourth of July menu yesterday, I colored outside the lines a little and went with a ground lamb burger. Asked Daddy (and Mama) over – he politely declined. “Don’t like to eat anything that used to have fuzz on it.” was his reply. The Carnivore King spoke. And I know what he had yesterday: a cheeseburger. Charcoal grilled. With a cold beer.

PS: The lamb burgers really were pretty damn good. As were the sides that we had with – garlic fries and watermelon/feta salad. Check ‘em out…

Prosciutto Lamb Burgers
1/2 cup plain dried bread crumbs
1/4 cup chopped fresh flat-leaf Italian parsley
1 large egg, lightly beaten
1/2 cup grated Pecorino Romano
1/4 cup chopped sun-dried tomatoes
3/4 teaspoon salt
3/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1 pound ground lamb
6 large slices prosciutto, sliced medium-thin (for wrapping the burgers)
1/4 cup olive oil
Fresh basil leaves, for topping each burger
Fresh tomato slices, for topping each burger
Extra-virgin olive oil, for drizzling
Balsamic vinegar, for drizzling

The liberties of our country, the freedoms of our civil Constitution are worth defending at all hazards; it is our duty to defend them against all attacks. We have received them as a fair inheritance from our worthy ancestors. They purchased them for us with toil and danger and expense of treasure and blood. It will bring a mark of everlasting infamy on the present generation – enlightened as it is – if we should suffer them to be wrested from us by violence without a struggle, or to be cheated out of them by the artifices of designing men.
~ Samuel Adams

The air was thick that summer night, heavy with heat and humidity. Along with the odor of hops and happiness. It was July 3rd. A Wednesday. And my working stiff pals and I were blowing off some steam carousing and cavorting as the next day -- July 4th -- was a holiday. From watering hole to watering hole we went (yes, one of us was the designated driver) looking for action and merriment and maybe a brief yet meaningless relationship. (Shut up. I wasn't yet 30. It's just what we did back in the '90s.)

As we were heading for our car, departing one joint and heading to another, I looked at my watch. 12 midnight. Officially the Fourth of July. And in a moment inspired by cheap beer and sauciness, I stopped, gathered my friends 'round and began to sing "God Bless America" at the top of my lungs. My pals, inspired by my insanity, joined in. We made quite a tableau, standing there, voices raised, attempting to find the melody (never mind the same key) and singing as if our lived depended upon it.

One of my childhood homes is about to be torn down – at least partially – and refashioned.

Not my house-house – although that was torn down several years ago and still remains a sore spot with me but that’s a different tale for another day.

My church-house. The building which I called my religious home from the day I was born until my congregation moved to a larger, more centrally located piece of land nearly 20 years ago. And have thrived there ever since.

However, I still have an emotional attachment, for right or wrong, to the stately columned building with the steep stairs and muted stained glass.

It’s home. My spiritual home.

With memories galore attached to it.

And while my faith is so much more than just a building, I’d be lying if I said that the building itself doesn’t have a place in my personal religious experience.

That place is where my parents were married.

Where I was baptized.

Where my great-grandmother worshiped.

Where my nana sang hymns.

Where I first got to know Jesus.

It’s also where I first learned the mechanics of music and music theory, singing in organized and disciplined children’s choirs. Yes, Virginia, I myself was once a Choir Urchin. An exceedingly well-behaved one, but an Urchin nonetheless.

It’s where I participated in my first journalistic reporting endeavor, documenting the details of a worship service for a project designed to get kids to participate in the worship experience. My eight-year-old self undoubtedly didn’t get all the nuances of the pastor’s sermons, but by golly, I sure gave it my best cub reporter effort.

It's where I learned the importance of volunteering first hand, watching (and in many cases, joining in with) my parents serve as teachers and committee chairs and leaders. There was never any question about whether we would be active church volunteers -- we simply just were. This is a lesson that resonates with me still today. Volunteering is simply part of who I am.

It’s where I made lifelong friends. What’s unique about this is that we’re generational pals – our parents are friends, and in some cases, our grandmothers were friends. This means more to me than I could ever imagine. Thanks to the wonders of Facebook, I’ve been able to reconnect with these amigos, many of who have long since moved away from our hometown but with whom I still share so much.

The first time I was ever grounded was related to my church house. I skipped a youth bible study to go riding in the back of some boy’s new pickup truck and my mother discovered it when she came looking for me because another church member needed me to babysit the next day and wanted an immediate answer to whether I could or not.

The place – it’s part of me. For better or worse. Mostly for the better. For every story shared already, I have five more. Will is the fifth generation of my family to belong to our church. The tales are plentiful and run deep.

And while my church house is now in a different place, literally, figuratively and philosophically, and has been for a long while, I can’t help but feel some bittersweet tugs at the thought of the first physical place I spiritually lived not staying as I remember it.

Still have my memories, though. In heart, mind and soul. Now and forever.

(Special thanks to my great friend Jen for the photos -- she's awesome, btw)

And I knew this was a place where love abounds

For this is a temple -- the God we love abides here

And we are standing in His presence

On holy ground