It Made Me Laugh, It Made Me Cry - It Was Better Than Cats!

I'm alive. I've been in a bit of a funk lately - but I think I might be willing to share my experience with y'all thanks to two  ladies who really cheered me up last night.

You see - things are hard in Internet-land - they are not always as they seem, and people aren't always who you think they are.  But it's also a wonderful place that had provided me with four ears in this new hometown of mine - and I love it for that.

Today involved spreadsheets and numbers and lots of work.  But tomorrow will be better and I promise I'll be better about writing and commenting soon.

Miss y'all a lot!

How to Talk Your Way Out of a Ticket

Friday's mail included what I believe to be the pièce de résistance for our new home. Two updated Texas driver's licenses with our new address. I anxiously ripped open the envelope to look over the contents - first Manbug's license:  (1) tanned picture taken two days after his last Mexico vacation, check; (2) full name, check; (Manbug goes by his middle name since he shares his first name with his dad - something I didn't even know about him until we were dating for almost a year); (3) updated address, check.

I then opened my envelope: (1) picture from just before the wedding with long hair that doesn't look anything like me anymore, check (also, wearing a black sweater so my hair blends in with sweater and makes me look decidedly-Rapunzelish); (2) married name, check; (3) updated address - well, crap! There was a typo in the name of our new street - an errant "A" that changed the address remarkably.  I checked my receipt and sure enough, it was my error.  This time....the last error that I had on a driver's license, however, was not.  It was, similarly, the mere addition of a vowel, but oh - how it changed my address and helped me get out of a well-deserved ticket.

When I moved to Dallas after law school, I was very, very reluctant to give up my New York driver's license.  It was the only remaining vestige of my life as a Manhattanite, and I clung to it with passion. The decision was made for me when I received a ticket and was forced to get a Texas version.  As a result, I suspect I had a bit of an attitude when the DMV clerk told me that I had to actually hand over the NY license - I could not just apply for a new Texas version.  In retrospect, I was likely more of a bitch to her than warranted, but don't worry - she got me back.

You see, I lived in this lovely little community on White Rock Lake in Dallas, on a quaint little street called Poppy Drive.  Where did my license say I lived?

POOPY DRIVE.  I can only imagine the laughter at my expense at the DMV the day that address was entered into the database.

Needless to say, I wasn't thrilled when I received the license in the mail and I made no immediate plans to return to the DMV to have it corrected.

One morning, a few weeks later, I was running late to work since I hadn't yet learned how to juggle my 80 hour work weeks.  I ran out of the apartment with my hair soaking wet, no make-up on and wearing a less-than-ironed blouse.  As I sped out of the garage, I veered too close to the wall and succeeded in knocking off the passenger side rearview mirror. I looked at it, hanging from an electrical cord, and decided I didn't have the time or the patience to deal with it.  I pulled out onto the main road, and as my speed increased, the mirror swung back and forth, with alternating thumps on the door and window.  I knew I had to pull over and deal with it, but I didn't have a minute to spare.  I threw the car into 5th and saw something out of the corner of my eye - a cop.  He quickly put his lights on and pulled me over.  I can only imagine what he thought as he walked up to my car - the mirror was still swinging to and fro, and tears had started to well up in my eyes. Clearly, I wasn't handling this independent living very well.

"License, registration and insurance, please," he said as he cautiously peered into my window. 

I handed over the paperwork and quickly added, "Officer, there's a small typo in my license so it won't match the other information exactly."

He glanced everything over and laughed out loud - "Poopy Drive? Where is that?"

"It's just east of Shit Boulevard," I replied as the tears started pouring down my face.

He burst out laughing, went back to his car and returned with a pair of clippers.  He efficiently cut off the dingleberry mirror, walked around to my driver's side and handed it to me. "You're having a bad day, I can tell.  But slow down - it's not worth getting hurt over.  And whatever you do, do NOT get that typo fixed.  You just made my day."

He patted my hand and was on his way, still chuckling as he pulled away.

Unfortunately, my current typo isn't funny in the least, so I guess I should just trek to the DMV, correct my address and get the horrific photo updated.

Sick As A You-Know-What

Please excuse my unplanned absence, but you see - I have been the victim of a serious stomach bug since Monday. I started to feel better yesterday, I even returned to the land of the living, but today that bug socked it back to me and I'm feeling awful again.

But I had to take a moment to remember today - this horrible day in our history.  As I wrote last year, the World Trade Center was a huge part of my childhood. I thank God for my relatives that made it out alive, and I remember and pray for the one relative that did not.  I also thank God for this wonderful country we live in and I hope that all of the families that lost loved ones on this horrific day will found some peace, little by little.

When Pills Are Not Enough

Please make sure to check out the rants-heard-round-the-Internet today. I am a horrible friend and could not participate today because my mom, who has been here for twelve days, has cut into my Internet time SUBSTANTIALLY. She is leaving today, and I will be furiously reading and commenting over the next few days in order to catch up - so please forgive my absence - I've missed you all!

Anyway, in addition to the rants, today, two years ago, my father passed away. I think we've come a long way in our healing process, but I wanted to take a special moment to mention that the world lost one of its best humans two years ago today. In honor of my dad, I'm going to post the eulogy that I gave at his funeral (I may have posted it before, but humor me here).

* * * * * * * * * * *

I have desperately struggled over the past few days trying to determine how I could possibly give proper honor to my father with a few meager minutes of speech. I lay in bed these past few nights, pushing aside the overwhelming feeling of emptiness, so that I could focus on the happier times and then stand before you and appropriately eulogize my father.

And then it occurred to me. I couldn’t do it because it was an impossible task. In fact, even if I had an unlimited amount of time to speak about my father, there simply are no words that could do him justice. I’m sure you know this as well - each one of you is here today to honor my father because he touched your life in some way – and therefore, you already know what a special person he was.

Since I cannot summarize the importance of his life with mere words, I’m going to focus on the impact of his life instead and I’d like to share with you the thoughts I have had in trying to deal with the loss of such a wonderful father.

When my family has lost loved ones in the past, we often tried to reason with the loss by imagining the “job” in heaven that was fulfilled. For example, when my best friend’s father passed away, a man who could have grown flowers and vegetables in a cement wall, we all agreed that God must have taken him because he needed a gardener in heaven. When my mom’s best friend passed away, a woman that had more style in her small finger than most people have in their whole body, we were sure that God needed a personal shopper in order to inject some flair into his wardrobe. When my brother passed away, it was agreed that God must have needed some sort of event coordinator in heaven, since he was a social maven on earth.

But what role was my father going to fulfill in heaven? What unique characteristic did he have, that would fulfill an opening in God’s kingdom? Did God need a devoted Giants fan? A bowler? Did God need his assets and liabilities balanced and therefore took my dad because he was a top-notch accountant and auditor? Did God need his coffee brought to him every morning like my father did for my mother during their 49 ½ years of marriage? Did God need someone to listen to his deepest thoughts, because my dad was the best listener and problem-solver that I have ever come across? Did God need someone to guide everyone up there through a daily rosary, because we know how important prayer and faith was to my father? What was the need?
I couldn’t think of one single task that my father could fulfill, probably because he was good at so many. And then it came to me – he wasn’t taken from us to satisfy a need in heaven – he was given to us over seventy-seven years ago to fulfill a need on earth.

I believe that God lent my father to this earth in order to show everyone around him how to live a proper life – a life filled with honor, grace, dignity, faith, respect, and love, in other words a life well-lived. Essentially, my father’s proper place has always been in God’s kingdom and he was merely on loan to us to be an example of God’s love and to teach us some lessons. So let me outline just a few of the lessons we were taught by seventy-seven years of wonderful examples:

1. Love your family unconditionally. And I mean UNCONDITIONALLY. That means no matter what anyone does, including perhaps….your daughter during her rebellious high school years – no matter the transgression, let them know that you love them. I was truly lucky in my life because I knew that had unrestricted love and support behind me from my parents-regardless of where I went in life or what I did. That has proved invaluable for me.
2. Pray every day. Heck, even bump it up a notch and attend mass every day like my father did. True faith in God was the cornerstone of my father’s life – everything else in his life was built from this foundation. And this leads me to lesson number three…
3. Keep every promise that you make. For example, when my brother became severely ill as a child, my father promised God that he would attend mass every day if Jimmie’s life was spared. And he did - and it was the most important part of his day. Either before he hopped on the train to the World Trade Center or later in life, when he was retired, before he brought home coffee and the papers to enjoy breakfast with my mom, he attended mass every morning.
4. Show kindness to every living being. Whether it be the puppy that your daughter asked you to “baby-sit” while she attended law school or the stranger on the street that you never met before that day – my father believed that a little kindness goes a long way. He used to say that you never know what the person that passes you on the street is experiencing – and as my Dad explained, a smile takes no extra effort and it may make someone’s day.
5. Make your marriage your number one priority. My parents, sadly, will not be able to celebrate their 50th anniversary this coming February 1st together. But the truth is, they celebrated their marriage every single day. Nothing came before the importance of each to the other. They nurtured their marriage, honored it and demonstrated their love and devotion to each other every single day they were together. Follow these rules and perhaps you will have a marriage as long and as successful as that of my parents.
6. Don’t speak unkindly about others. Ever. This one is a hard one, perhaps impossible, for most of us, but my father saw the good in every human being that he met in his life. And he always had a kind word about everyone.
7. Don’t drive over the speed limit – in fact, if you can, drive five miles under the speed limit with you blinker on (just in case). The importance of this lesson can be shown merely an accounting of the tickets that our family members have accrued over the years – Dad/zero; Mom – that number can’t be disclosed since it may actually become higher over the next few years.
8. Always route for the underdog. Whether the underdog is the Giants, or your wife, who crashed your car into a tree three hours after she got her license, you need to support those who need your help. And when they succeed, be the first one to give them a thumbs-up sign and say “Super!”

I’ve had the opportunity to stand on this altar, in this church that was the most important building in my father’s life, for many occasions. Some have been happy occasions, such as my communion, confirmation and the day I finally married a man worthy of my father’s approval. Others have been sad, such as the funeral for my brother almost nine years ago, where I was asked to perform the same task as I do today. I’m sure many of you were here on that day, and as you may recall I asked you to perform an unorthodox task at that time. And I’m going to ask you to do it again today. As I walk off this altar and begin to try to deal with the daily pain that my father’s death has left in my family’s life, I will ask you one more time – please stand and applaud my father for his life well-lived.