Making your way in the world today takes everything you've got.
- Don't I know it! Everything. All my energy, my time, my money, my thoughts ...
Taking a break from all your worries, sure would help a lot.
- Yeah it would. Which is why last Friday night when I found out my sis was in Philly, I packed up all my dirty clothes and hauled tail to Penn Station. I didn't get there until 11 p.m., and she and Rob were already asleep, but I had to be among my people, in the midst of the love and the comfort of just being on a couch with no threat of another workday looming.
Wouldn't you like to get away?
- I was singing this to myself as I was sashaying down the street.
Sometimes you want to go Where everybody knows your name, and they're always glad you came.
- Sometimes that's all you need. People to stop everything they're doing to say "Hey kiddo (not really my name, but it comes with a smile and a hug, so I'll take it!) How ya been?!"
You wanna be where you can see, our troubles are all the same
- Friday night before bed my Aunt Mary and I were like, thank goodness we've got until Monday night. We said the same thing until tonight and then it was, "Good grief. Where did the time go? Ugh. Tomorrow. Who cares if the sun comes out tomorrow? It's still work."
You wanna be where everybody knows Your name.
- (They know my name, but they still call me Kim. Even when Kim is sitting in the same room. Even my dad does this. It used to annoy me, but now I just nod, "Yeah, I know what you're saying.")
You wanna go where people know, people are all the same, You wanna go where everybody knows your name.
- You wanna go home sometimes. Even if home isn't where you grew up, even when it doesn't include everyone and everything that home sweet home does. It's just good to be around people who know your face, know that you love root beer, know that you love (and have) to sleep late.
I can't help it, but somehow, ever since I wrote that short story, Love Sing*A Story*Song For Me, I have not been able to stop infusing my writing with song lyrics. They perfectly paint my observations most times, as I truly am a jukebox and have a song for almost everything. So it just makes sense that almost every post involves my interpretation of what some lyrics mean to me and this way in which I see the world.
Today, after a wonderful weekend in Philly where I met up with my sister and bro-in-law (in from Germany before her August departure to Kuwait), we decided we'd come to NYC so they could see where I live and just take in a quick set o' sights. It was fun and now I'm tired ... and alone again, naturally. (That song, by Gilbert O'Sullivan is so sad and kinda corny sounding, and I probably play it more than I should, but it really fits sometimes.)
Looking in the mirror and looking at that pic of me in the corner (age 3), I see the same eyes and I wonder if I've really grown up at all.
All weekend long I felt so grown up: Finally able to sit at the table with all the adults and chirp in on their conversations, wowing them with my knowledge and love of "old school" music. We talked about how much we'd miss Luther and how "nowadays, this mess they're playing on the radio ain't worth nothin'." They covered doo wop, quizzed me enough to realize that yes, I should be allowed to sit at the "big people's" table, and score! even have a beer. We talked politics and tennis, they laughed that my job in public relations makes me a professional liar, we worried over Kim who will too soon depart, we talked life, the current status of "our people," and what it must be like to be twenty-five and living in NYC.
Somehow I kept winding up as the focus of the discussions. New people would turn up at our family bbq and my uncle would introduce me, "This is my niece Danita. Mary's oldest sister's youngest daughter. She's from South Carolina, but now she lives in New York, in Manhattan, right off the Lincoln Tunnel, right up the street from Macy's and Madison Square Garden." ("Geez unc'," I'd think each time. He's more excited about it than I am; it really tickles him that I live here and work, especially since he seems to think of me only as a 3-year-old tottering down the Jersey Shore.)
Almost every time I was sitting around them, someone was bound to ask, "What do you think young person?"
I felt like a grown-up and for the time it was a nice feeling. I finally had input into conversations -- that previously had been a rarity -- and it's also nice when everyone seems to be impressed with the fact that I live alone in that "big concrete jungle." So I felt pleased with myself. Then tonight, just as my sister and I hugged, we were about to release each other and then she squeezed me tight. It's that dreadful hug that says everything, but mostly, I miss you and I hate to go.
It seems we've spent our entire lives missing each other, but I felt so great when she took my by the face and said, "I'm so proud of you." I've always tried to keep up with her, to impress her, to stand a little bit taller whenever we're around each other, and I'd never really felt I'd succeeded until tonight. I feel proud too, though, as it seems I'm never fully aware that I'm actually here until a visit with a familiar person ends. And then I don't feel as independent as they'd made me feel with all the "I can't believe you live heres."
I guess, in part, this is about learning and accepting how in some ways you'll always be remembered by certain people because of the way in which you entered their life. I will always be Kim's baby sister, forever in need of watching, coaching, monitoring, guidance. I will always be three to my Aunt Mary, Gran'ma Jean and my Gran who'll recall that summer that I played along the Shore, mistook a teddy bear for being an actual visitor and cried, "I want my mama!" mercilessly for what had to be the longest cry ever (according to Gran who insists it was all day everyday for like weeks.). It's like I'll never really be completely grown up, and it may be because I can't manage to think (or accept) that I'm actually grown. I sort of like my role as "young person." You may think this will inevitably change, as I won't always be the youngest person, but I sometimes doubt it will.
I imagine so many people have sworn to stay forever young in some way, but I tell you, I believe that it's possible for me. Sure, I still have maturing to do, but I don't ever think I'll be so old as to not completely lose myself in making faces at (the tongue is popular fun) and playing games (peek-a-boo or patty cake anyone?) with young children in public. I'll always be the one to entertain whoever's young toddler needs some attention at large gatherings. I'll always want to chase and trap lightning bugs (fireflies ... whatever!) in my hands. I'll always clap with glee when the watermelon is cracked open. I'll probably always be the last person to rise and groggily ask where all the breakfast food has gone (after noon). And I'll probably always be the one to inadvertently insult someone by referring to myself as old and past my prime ...
I wonder if I'll ever be able to just see me without wondering how other people are seeing me or what they think when they do see me. Part of me thinks I need to let it go and not be concerned with others' thoughts, but the other part feels that that may be the only way in which I can keep sight of who I am and what I am not. I guess I just see now that while I have grown some, I'm never as grown as I'd like to think and basically, that's just a really good thing.