Nothing makes you feel more like an adult than realizing that the next time you visit your parents, you'll be a parent yourself.
On Sunday, Paul and I returned from a week in Ohio -- a baby shower the first weekend (more on that next week), followed by a few days in Defiance and then a few days in Columbus. It's the last time we'll see our families before the baby is born.
Put that way, baby's impending arrival seems even closer -- and even scarier. After all, I still feel a little babied when I visit home myself -- meals magically appear at the appropriate time, beds are freshly laundered and prepared and we have generally no responsibilities but to see family and friends. And maybe watch some TV.
But next time we're in Ohio, we'll have someone who's depending on us for food, shelter and entertainment. Not that we won't have help -- our families are nothing but excited -- but the ultimate responsibility falls on the shoulders of Paul and me. I'm nervous, but I'm eager.
As we made the 10 hour return drive to New York, I couldn't help but remember that this would be the last long road trip that Paul and I would take by ourselves for quite a while. We'll still be making that New York to Ohio car trip next year, but somehow I think it will be even longer. And probably louder.
Friday, September 14, 2012
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
What I Think About on 9/11
Yesterday was almost normal.
When I got off the subway just a few steps from Ground Zero, there were no crowds, no ceremony. A few extra police officers. Maybe a couple of extra people with cameras; it was difficult to tell. I looked back to catch a glimpse of 1 World Trade Center, but another building now blocks my view. I can only see the tip-top.
I can't remember the anniversary being mentioned at work, but there were certainly enough comments on my Facebook and Twitter feeds, friends remembering the day or sharing where they were 11 years ago.
But it's impossible for me to fit into only a few characters all of the things that run through my mind when I think about 9/11. Snapshots from the day, and even the night before.
I think about how my Mom accompanied me to Columbus the day before, since I had a daylong retreat for the student newspaper at my college on Sept. 11. We ate at Johnny Rockets, and I got some hairbands at Target.
I think about seeing my friend and roommate Allison the morning of September 11. We hadn't seen each other all summer. We drove to the retreat together. "Rockin' the Suburbs" was on the radio.
I think about the retreat that was cut short when we all heard the news. Allison and I first heard about it in the car, and I thought that it was certainly an accident.
I think about the silent car ride back to Ohio, when Mom and I listened to talk radio all the way home. I remember the long, long lines at the gas stations.
I think about how I didn't see any footage of the attacks until we were in Defiance that night. My eyes were glued to the TV until college started the next week.
I think about Mexico, where Paul had flown just a few days earlier to start his 10-week study abroad program. It was the last time I was able to go to an airport gate without a ticket.
I think about the victims. I simultaneously imagine and try not to their last moments.
And of course, I think about New York: now more than ever. Right after 9/11 occurred, I thought that not only would I never want to move to a big city, but that I would never want to fly ever again. But the city has moved forward. My co-workers, who smelled the acrid air and walked hours home that night, have moved forward.
As a country, I hope, we have all moved forward. But that doesn't mean we've forgotten. Especially when there's so much to remember.
When I got off the subway just a few steps from Ground Zero, there were no crowds, no ceremony. A few extra police officers. Maybe a couple of extra people with cameras; it was difficult to tell. I looked back to catch a glimpse of 1 World Trade Center, but another building now blocks my view. I can only see the tip-top.
I can't remember the anniversary being mentioned at work, but there were certainly enough comments on my Facebook and Twitter feeds, friends remembering the day or sharing where they were 11 years ago.
But it's impossible for me to fit into only a few characters all of the things that run through my mind when I think about 9/11. Snapshots from the day, and even the night before.
I think about how my Mom accompanied me to Columbus the day before, since I had a daylong retreat for the student newspaper at my college on Sept. 11. We ate at Johnny Rockets, and I got some hairbands at Target.
I think about seeing my friend and roommate Allison the morning of September 11. We hadn't seen each other all summer. We drove to the retreat together. "Rockin' the Suburbs" was on the radio.
I think about the retreat that was cut short when we all heard the news. Allison and I first heard about it in the car, and I thought that it was certainly an accident.
I think about the silent car ride back to Ohio, when Mom and I listened to talk radio all the way home. I remember the long, long lines at the gas stations.
I think about how I didn't see any footage of the attacks until we were in Defiance that night. My eyes were glued to the TV until college started the next week.
I think about Mexico, where Paul had flown just a few days earlier to start his 10-week study abroad program. It was the last time I was able to go to an airport gate without a ticket.
I think about the victims. I simultaneously imagine and try not to their last moments.
And of course, I think about New York: now more than ever. Right after 9/11 occurred, I thought that not only would I never want to move to a big city, but that I would never want to fly ever again. But the city has moved forward. My co-workers, who smelled the acrid air and walked hours home that night, have moved forward.
As a country, I hope, we have all moved forward. But that doesn't mean we've forgotten. Especially when there's so much to remember.
Monday, September 10, 2012
One Degree from Kevin Bacon
 |
| A Kevin Bacon flick outside Paul's office |
"Most people live their lives 6 degrees from Kevin Bacon," Paul wrote on his Facebook page in late August, "but today I was just 1 degree from Kevin Bacon as he was filming a movie outside my office."
Coming across TV and movie filmings happens rarely enough to still be exciting. Or at least it is if you know who or what is being filmed. A scene from "The Good Wife" being shot outside my own office a year or two ago, for example, was interesting. But I don't watch the show, so it wasn't that exciting.
I'm sure that if I wanted to go out of my way to see some stars, I could follow a website dedicated to tracking filming locations in New York City. Los Angeles may be the country's capital when it comes to that kind of thing, but plenty of shows film here as well. "30 Rock" is an obvious example that comes quickly to mind.
Still, I think it's more fun to come across the film shootings randomly as Paul recently did. And not nearly as exhausting.
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