Shining with Every Movement

The rehearsal dinner had the haphazard quality of an event organized in the tropics, where both cell phones and responsibilities have spotty service. A three-walled restaurant with insufficient waiters hosted us and dinner took almost three hours to serve and sort and share the English-language menus.

In the midst of the ordering and waiting, an after-dinner dance party was deemed necessary, as only these sorts of things can be. It was hasty and half-hearted in the planning stages, but once implemented went on as most dance parties do. Nineteen friends, found in different stages of drunk and sweaty and committed, dancing in a large pagoda in the backyard of a rental house to “Seven Nation Army”.  I most feel comfortable as DJ in those situations. I can’t live outside my head when dancing is involved; I need a task.

The dance party wound down at 12:30. Everything was sticky; the temperature was still a humid 90 degrees. A moonless sky served to accentuate the overwhelming stars.

 Someone suggested we go to the beach. A narrow path cut from the rental house through the jungle and out onto a wide and white private beach. I was one of the last to arrive, and the beach was littered with piles of my friends’ clothing, as if they had disappeared out of their outfits as soon as they touched the sand. Skinny-dipping sounds emanated from the ocean—laughter, chatter, splashing and reckless abandon—but as I stepped closer I realized I could see from where the sounds came. The ocean was teeming with bioluminescent phytoplankton. My friends shone with every movement.

Not our beach, but very similar to what I saw. 

I was hesitant to join them. I was feeling much older on this trip, and thought that maybe I’d passed the age of group skinny dipping. But my friends were glowing in the sea and I was jealous. I wanted to shine. I stripped down and ran in.

It was as if I were swimming in sparklers. Every movement lit up my whole body, each kick left a trail of light. I couldn’t stop laughing. The bride floated by me, doing the backstroke through the teeming sea, her face glowing from the moment, her eyes reflecting the endless galaxy above and below.

It was much too much.
And I’m grateful.

(I was in Costa Rica in September/October 2011; I'm just getting around to writing about it)

Dunno

This was Summer, 2004 and it was Dave and Shelby's wedding. Dave is in the red vest, Elena is being the tiny goof between Dave and I and on the end is our boss, the reason we all know each other: Anna B. Later on we tried to roll and run on the hay bails behind us. It was a good wedding.
The scary thing to me is out of everyone in this photo, I am the only one who hasn't had cancer since it was taken. Anna found out that fall she had precancerous growths; she was 33. This past fall Dave came down with a softball-sized tumor in the middle of his chest. He did six months of chemo and just had surgery last week. He's weak but he's fighting. He just turned 30.
Yesterday afternoon Elena called me saying she had news. She's been with the same great guy for close to three years now so I was expecting the usual, "I'm engaged!" call I've fielded dozens of times. Instead the call revolved around cortisol levels and the hypothalamus and thalamus and the words "tumor" and "pituitary" together. Elena is 26.
It isn't like I know a whole bunch of people from AL; 30 at the most. And then three come down with tumors? At such young ages? I don't understand it, and I'm scared. It is early, she still has a lot of tests before she knows the extent of the tumor and whether to be scared, but I can't help it. She's one of my closest friends.
How does that happen?

Damn You, Tonya!

This is Dave.
Dave has been a friend of mine for almost 8 years. We met at the camp I worked for in Virginia where we all lived in tents and crazy things happened regularly. Dave came as a companion to my friend Shelby (now his wife) and he brought along an exuberance that is unmatched, a zest for fun that is both light and deep. We have had many adventures in these years (one of my favorite involves a situation attempting to explore a new cave). He is a dear, dear friend. Like a big brother only with less fights. When three of us came down with giardia, Dave was the one who volunteered to drive the deathly ill people 30 minutes to the hospital in a 1989 maroon Caravan. He and I have run many programs together, having so much fun in the process our kids would tell us to calm down. Our interpretive dance to Peter Gabriel’s “Solsbury Hill” is still one of the funniest moments of performance I’ve ever been apart of. He is another in a long line of people who blew into my life and have taken root. I am blessed by these roots.

Dave has cancer.

I got an email from him a few weeks ago, detailing the discovery of Tonya the Tumor, a softball size germ cell tumor that is sitting in this chest, overlapping his lungs and close to his heart. Of all the cancers to get at 29 it is one of the most treatable and he is in chemotherapy, with hopes that he’ll be done with it before summer starts. He called me this past weekend to see if I had any questions about his cancer, to make sure I wasn’t worrying too much and to see how I was doing. We talked for about 30 minutes and I got to ask the questions I wanted to ask, let him know how much I loved his friendship, and make him laugh as much as I could. As long as I’ve known Dave he has had the gift of good attitude. No matter the situation, no matter the resources at hand, no matter how glum it looks, Dave has a good attitude that is full of realism and yet abounding joy.

I can’t believe I get to have people like him in my life.

Not because he is sick, but because he is Dave.

(this is Dave with his twin brother, Dan. Dave is the one in the sombrero. Both are equally awesome.)
Dave's CaringBridge Site.

My Tended Earth

Wow, whadda whirlwind. I drove back to VA last Wednesday, stopping to have dinner with Matt and Megan, two friends I have known literally my entire life (I met Matt when I was five and Megan has been a dear friend since I was 15. I actually introduced the two of them; amazing people) and got to have dinner with Megan out at Brubaker's in Old Town Winchester. I was getting ready to leave when they said, “Just stay! You've been in the car for 7 hours already!” so I did. Great time with lovely friends and their sweet daughters. Finally got to my dad's house on Thursday morning in time to have some quality coffee and Washington Post time with my dad before driving up to Natalie's and then driving her Volvo Cross-Country out to Wegman's for the best lunch one could ever fathom getting at a grocery store. Wegmans=Heavenly experience. If you ever have the chance to go to a Wegmans, just go. Do not ask questions. And of course Natalie somehow has a chunk of my very soul and is one of the people I love most on this planet, so any time at all spent with her is a gift straight from the heavens. Needless to say it was a lovely afternoon. I got home in time for a very quick nap and then shower before delicious BBQ dinner with my dad and uncle. Love meals with bitter old men...makes me feel youthful and optimistic. Then I headed out to Arlington to hop the Metro to the home of the incomparable Emile, a friend I met literally the first night of college; someone I want to figure out a way to have in my life even more. You would do well to have her in your life in any capacity. Sitting out on her front porch in NW, drinking Sierra Nevadas and mocking her pea-sized bladder: it was priceless.

(Emilie and I at the college version of a cocktail party, Fall 2002)

I stayed there Thursday night and got back to my car early enough to not have to pay for my overnight Metro parking (gates are open til 10:30am, holla!) on the way home I dropped my car off to get inspected and piddled around the house while I waited for my car. Once I got it back I drove out to Michelle and Dave's house for an all too brief visit before cutting down Snickersville Turnpike for my trip up the mountain and back to Adventure Links. What a treat that was. I can't tell you how much I love those people. Like my insides literally flipped in joy just hearing their voices. I got a physical ache; these are people who know and love me well. Anna, Austin, Audrey, Autumn, Shelby, Dave and Scott made for the perfect sort of dinner companions and we played some entertaining board games til very late. Leaving there is never easy. I can't believe I've known them for seven years. Anna Birch is a friend to my core. I am so lucky to have her in my world.

(Anna in her natural habitat)

Saturday morning I tried to talk my dad into going out to my sister's house with me but to no avail; I made the hour trek solo to see my older sister and her four (count 'em, four) children and the new house. The house was a DISASTER. I can't blame her, the woman does have four kids and her husband works a lot but still...it reminded me so much of how cluttered my mom was with us and I got immediately angry at it. I hate that I do that; we just have different tastes and different standards (I know I am an EXTREME packrat, but compared to my family I'm SPARSE.). But I did get to see my niece and three nephews, whom I simply love and adore so it was worth it. I don't know how those boys are so genuinely nice...I hope they keep that. I got back from Bubby's and drove straight to my mother's house for a late dinner. Got to see my mom and my little sister and pick up a trunk full of my old stuff which was wonderful. My little sister is growing up and away and it breaks my heart. I got back to my Dad's in time to watch a little TV with him and then go to bed. I slept in on Sunday and took a traditional Spooner Sunday morning, which consists of reading the entire Washington Post Sunday Edition and drinking at least three cups of coffee the consistency of tar. My uncle came over again later in the afternoon and then I went and grabbed my little sister, took her to dinner, came back to dad's, dropped off the beer he asked to pick up then drove the 30 minutes out to South Riding to have drinks with the one-of-a-kind cynicism that is Amber and Mark. Two people I wish lived in Asheville with me: those two. Seriously. I could be so lucky.

So now, 833.7 miles later, I'm finishing up my trip to the VA and heading back south. North Carolina is home now and for the immediate future, but there is something so bittersweet about coming back to an area and a people so intimate to me; it's a watering of the roots in a way. This is my soil, my tended earth, these are the places and the people that made so much of me and I love them unabashedly for that. I am so blessed in every faction of living.

(Speaking of blessed and past: someone who left my life five years ago has very suddenly returned in a very full way. I am ecstatic about this. I've prayed for this person daily for five years; to have them back in the picture in any capacity is tear-inducing. We'll see where that goes in the redux.)

'Venture!

Sorry I haven't posted in a while--my weeks get away from me very quickly. That's the problem with having a weekend midweek--I lose the actual weekends and suddenly a month has gone by. I'm always astounded by the date. I feel like life is traveling at warp speed.
I've been doing a lot of manual labor lately and it has been very good for me on a mental level. Working with my hands, getting tired and dirty, feeling sore and bruised: these things truly do wonders for my inner self. Seeing something tangible for progress....it is life giving. It's a challenge and an adventure.
When I worked for AL (the camp in VA) their oldest daughter called every trip a "venture!" and to any option given to her she would ask, "Is it gonna be 'venture?" without fear or hesitation. I would love to be more like that (She was 3 or 4 though and I'm not).
After nearly four years of wear, this morning I finally had my rope bracelet cut off my wrist. I'd wanted to save it for a special occasion, or have it done by someone I loved but in the end it was hurting my wrist so I got Jane to cut it for me with no pomp or circumstance, just between the coffee and the rest of the day. It is odd to not feel it. I miss it. That was a good part of me. Also: it is very small. I can't believe how tiny my wrist is.
I don't know what else to say. To which much is given, much is collected, much is crap and much is worthwhile. Some things never make sense, work they way you think they will, end the way you expect them to or peter out long before your timeline. That's a big, reoccurring thing right now.

Beer Tours

What a great weekend! Wow! My friends Jess and Helen drove down from VA to visit. I know them from AL and was literally giddy with excitement to have them in the Ashevegas. Chuck and Kelley, two other ALers, live in Brevard so the five of us had a weekend in the big city. Friday night we went out to Mayfel's for some down home dinner, then over to Jack of the Wood for pints and Sons of Ralph (with Ralph!) before slogging back to my house for some much needed sleep. Saturday morning I made bagels while they went out to the farmers market and we had a substantial (and carb heavy) breakfast. We had talks of climbing and hiking but our friend Tim was meeting us so we decided to stay in town til he came around. First stop: right down the road at French Broad Brewing Company for a tasting and a growler fill of the Wee Heavy-er. Then downtown to show off more of this great city. It was a PERFECT day weather-wise to be walking around—cloudless, mid-70s, breezy—idyllic really, and we walked everywhere, including stopping to get Chuck a cigar. Took a rest at Laughing Seed for a late lunch, where Tim met up with us (and Jane stopped by with Nant). Our full stomachs drove down to Dirty Jacks for a pitcher of their cask porter outside in the sunshine. At this point we thought we might as well visit as many breweries in town as possible, so we walked around the block to Asheville Brewing for pitchers of the Scottish Ale (a personal favorite) and some serious games of Cornhole. The sun was setting, so back to my house to pack a bag and caravan to Brevard. We made a big dinner of veggies, rice and peanut sauce, all got in our mummy bags and watched “Bourne Supremacy” (Jason Bourne is my future husband and I wanted to show him off) before crashing mightily onto our respective thermarests. And then came the giggles. Out of control. Everyone. I was choking from laughing. This morning my stomach muscles hurt. Love it.
Kind of goes along with the previous post—being with your people can make all the difference. Outdoor educators are a motley bunch but they get each other, and it is a mighty feeling, being understood.