Through Understanding There is Love

My dad died on Keith’s 28th birthday.  He had passed early that morning after many, many, many years of illness.

As some of you know, my dad has been sick all of my life (literally).  Before I was born, my father suffered post-streptococcal glomerulonephritis.  This complicated phrase just means that my dad got strep throat, it wasn’t treated, and it spread to cause kidney failure.  (Though note even if it was treated, it might have caused the same issues.)  He lost both kidneys, and was put on dialysis.  Believe me, dialysis in the 80s was not a fun experience – not that it is now, but it’s much more advanced in 2012 than in 1980.

For years, my dad suffered.  He had two kidney transplants, both from his brothers.  The first lasted only about five years or so, but the second remained functioning nearly through his death.  Dialysis and organ transplants are not fun – not for the patient, or the family.  And, unfortunately, my dad was not the greatest patient.  No matter, he succeeded in overcoming the disease as best he could, though there wasn’t a conversation we had my entire adult life that didn’t include warnings he was going to die any moment.  And, as he aged, the medications he took to keep his body from rejecting the donated kidney allowed his body to be ravaged by cancer.  For years, he held it at bay – finally succumbing to the myriad of illnesses in June.

As some of you know, I hadn’t been on speaking terms with my dad for a long time.  Out of respect for his memory, and those who claim to have known him best, I will refrain from posting any skeletons here.  It no longer matters – he is gone, and the world has changed.  I have changed.  I have forgiven, moved forward, and found peace.  Yet, his death of course was distressing and difficult.  I don’t know that death can be any other way.  I take comfort that he is no longer suffering, and the burden of these years gone.

Keith and I went to Lake George in mid-July.  It was a pre-planned camping trip, and something told me it was fated.  Some of my best memories with my father are from Lake George – particularly the campground that we camped at.  Going there brought back some tears, and some joy.  It was a good place to say good-bye, I decided.

One night, I made a small paper boat.  It wasn’t much, but it carried a poem (below).  I folded it, and sent it out onto the lake.  It wouldn’t leave the shore for some time, but then eventually made its way out over waves and feeding fish.  My little boat stayed buoyant for a long time – at least an hour.  The time was bittersweet, but healing.  It was a good way to say good-bye, a good way to move on…  A good memory for my dad to take with him into the afterlife.  The poem?  It was just as the sailing boat – bittersweet, and could not be more perfect:

We trust that beyond absence there is a presence.

That beyond the pain there can be healing.

That beyond the brokenness there can be wholeness.

That beyond the anger there may be peace.

That beyond the hurting there may be forgiveness.

That beyond the silence there may be the word.

That beyond the word there may be understanding.

That through understanding there is love.

Terra Cotta

As many of you know, we’ve been doing a lot of home updates lately, including staining our deck.  So far, we’ve gotten a portion of it done, but it’s still a work in progress.  Thought you might be interested to see the new color!

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Random Photo Updates

Hi everyone!

Just a post to upload a few photos from the last week, in case you missed it.

The first few are from the Tri-City ValleyCats game with the National Committee of Grandparents for Children’s Rights (it was a fundraiser).  Thanks to Mary and Michael or tagging along with Keith and I!  It was a ridiculously good time.

The second bunch are from Keith’s Birthday night out last week.  Despite the harsh news of the day, it was good to get out and celebrate Keith’s last birthday hurrah in Saratoga.  We started out at El Mexicano (awful, awful, awful – poor Blake sucked up a fly out of his drink and I had several chicken bones in my burrito), then made our way to Gaffney’s.  It was a fun night on the town.  Thanks to Kelly and Blake, Jen and Joe, Karen and Josh, Ruth and Nathan, Bird, Kirby, Doug, and especially Jackie for a much-needed evening of friends, food, and laughter!

Man, we’ll miss our friends…

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The Most Important Battles of the Revolutionary War

Every single Park Ranger at the Saratoga National Historic Park will tell you that the battles of Saratoga in 1777 were the most important battles of the Revolutionary War – and they won’t be far off the mark.  Revolutionary historians may quibble about the turning points in the War for Independence, but ultimately agree that Saratoga (now Schuylerville) played a significant role in turning the tides.

Today, Keith and I took the driving tour of the historic Saratoga Battlefield.  (Note to Active Duty Military Families:  You can now obtain a free pass that will allow you and your family free admission to any of our national parks.  Check it out here.)  We’ve lived in Saratoga for the last few years but have neglected to take this wonderful opportunity for a beautiful (and educational) day trip.

The Visitor Center is incredibly informative – not nearly as boring as most Visitor Centers.  All of the staff are knowledgable and can give you great recommendations on what stops to spend more time at, and which ones you can somewhat ignore.  There’s a great video that explains the history, but the highlight for me was the fiberoptic map that shows the movement of troops throughout the campaign of 1777.  It’s pretty damn cool.

On our drive, we passed many historic points:  The Nielsen House, which was used for the headquarters of General Arnold and Poor; Bemis Heights where Polish engineer Tadeusz Kosciuszko cut off the British infantry from passing through the easier valley road to downstate (by-the-way, the Twin Bridges are named after Kosciuszko); the Barber Wheatfield where the Americans overtook the British right flank; the Balcarres Redoubt at Freeman Farm and the Breymann Redoubt – where the Brits held up during the battles; the British Great Redoubt along the scenic Hudson River; the Schuyler House where General Philip Schuyler summered; and the Saratoga National Monument commemorating the battles fought and won on the fields just south of it (note that there is a blank space to the south – where Benedict Arnold’s statute was to be, but given his actions, was left empty).

It was a truly lovely day – with a great cell phone audio tour to compliment the brochure you receive upon entering the park.  The park is dog-friendly, if you didn’t know, and I’d highly recommend bringing the pups along if you can.  There are great walking trails, bike trails, and horse trails.  Excellent for picnics (though no barbecues allowed) and with views to die for.  Better yet, it’s either free (if you have a pass or are Active Duty Military) or just $5 for your carload of folks.

Check out our photos below to see the highlights.

We finished the day by Saratoga Lake, with a nice lunch and an ice cream.  Both a bit desperate for a relief from the day’s heat, Keith and I are now lounging on the couch by the A/C as I type this blog entry.

A trip to Saratoga National Historic Park is something that anyone from the area ought to do – particularly on a nice, sunny day.  There’s an enormous amount of history there, as there is in our own little city – just waiting to be found.

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A New Coat of Paint

These last few months we’ve been transforming our home into something worth the rent we’d like to see.  From adding on shutters to crown molding in the living room, it’s all a process.

Recently, we started work on our back deck and front porch.  We painted the porch (twice), planted three sand cherry bushes out front, covered them in black night cedar chips, and then had our driveway sealcoated. All we can say is WOW!  It has made such a difference to the front of our home!

The back deck is a process.  We just recently finished washing, powerwashing, and washing again.  There’s one coat on a few pillars and rails which looks just like we’d like, so we’re excited to see the finished product.

What do you think of the changes?

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Jeg elsker Danmark!

I have a new countdown:  90 days until Denmark!

Well, okay, 90 days until we board a plane in Newark to leave for Dusseldorf, where we arrive the next day.  We’ll be in Berlin shortly after that and off on our EU mini-adventure!

I like Berlin.  There’s something so special about a city still rebuilding, where living memory is still very much alive.  It was a stark contrast from cities like Copenhagen and Paris, where history is embraced.  In Berlin, history is re-written.  Famous streets repaved and repurposed, and many of the buildings and sites you’d otherwise seek to see torn down and destroyed in hopes of healing a broken wound.

We plan to spend some time there, seeing the sights and enjoying the beer.  Then we’ll be off to Hamburg (potentially) or just straight to Denmark.

I’m so thrilled to be able to show Keith “my homeland” so-to-speak, or, at least my family’s homeland.  We’ll be visiting Aarhus, of course, where some of my relatives live.  We’re also planning to head up north, to the “Land of the Light,” which, in October, won’t be that bright but will be beautiful nonetheless.

After our journey, we’ll spend our final days in Copenhagen among canals and political marvels.  I suspect we’ll mosey on over to Sweden for a day or two and then head back to the States after what will undoubtedly be a marvelous fifteen days!

Oh, I can’t even think straight – I am so excited!  For those who have been there (remembering that I have), any recommendations?  I have my own ideas, but, of course, am always open to any and all new adventures!

Ordered to Hawaii: Do come to visit, but not too soon…

Yes, folks.  If you haven’t already heard via Facebook, we now have orders to Pearl Harbor, Hawaii.

Orders make it all official-like, and apparently kickstart the (what’s a word like “flow” but rather describes a slow oozing of invisible mass…?) trickle of information that answers some, yet not all, of my questions.  It’s like playing a game of Carmen Sandiego.  You get just enough to move to the next city step, but not enough to have a whole picture of what you’d like to know.

(I’ve decided to setup a page with Q&A about Navy moves, just in the chance that I can help a random stranger avoid the headache I have.  You can read more about the multitude of questions here.)

Now that there are some answers, I can start to feel the excitement!  One big answer:  If we want specific housing (and we do), then we cannot accept other government housing first.  Otherwise, we end up way down on the priority list.  What does this mean?  That we’ll be living in a hotel anywhere from 3 to 6 months, or in temporary housing even longer.

You might think us mad to agree to such a long stayover in a place where the frustrations significantly outweigh the conveniences, but here’s why (fyi – I use “I” here because I’m fairly sure Keith would live in a wooden box if I asked him to, so the preferences are truly my own):

1. I don’t want to be quarantined into a Navy life.  My post on this topic is here, so there’s no point in reiterating what I’ve already said.
2. I have a weird (yet seemingly reasonable) disgust for living behind barbed wire and armed guards.  This is Hawaii and while fit men dressed all in black may give some reassurance of safety and security, I’ve yet to hear of rebel forces storming the castle forcing everyone to chose between the bloods and the crips.  So, I think that I’ll take my chances with the rest of the Americans in Hawaii by living dangerously out in town among middle class families and the never-ending stream of tourists.  (Just a note:  Hawaii’s violent crime index is the same as Saratoga Springs, NY.  The property crime index is a bit higher, mostly in tourist-related crime.  Overall, Hawaii does not exceed the national averages in areas other than tourist-related crime and, in fact, beats each and every city or town that I’ve lived in.)
3. My mom will be living with us, which means that she needs to get to and from the house rather frequently without being added to a list for an armed guard to question her citizenship and ultimately cause her to need an extra 20 minutes to get anywhere.
4. I don’t like to drive.  In fact, I hate driving.  Beyond the fact that driving causes significant sleep attacks for me, I just don’t like to do it.  There’s a marked difference between the beach being 20 minutes away and 30 minutes away.  The longer the interval, the less happy I am.  Some of the housing is on Ford Island, which means ten minutes in and of itself just to exit the island and cross the bridge.
5. I prefer the floorplans of Halsey Terrace.  We’re automatically eligible for a three-bedroom, approximately 2,000 sq. ft. home.  But, since my mom is coming to live with us, it’s important to me that we get as much space as possible – including a den or office for me.  Halsey Terrace is the only complex that offers this kind of layout.

Those are the top five reasons we’re sticking to one community, and putting ourselves in the oh-so-much-fun position of needing to wait for housing.  Thus, do come to visit, but not too soon…

We’re likely to be in a hotel for three to six months.  We shall survive, but visitors – as much as we love you – sleeping in our hotel room just won’t do.  Further, without a place that we can leave the dogs all day, there’s not much possibility of us getting out to entertain you, or even spend much time with you at all.  As we’ve told a few that inquire, you’re welcome to come to Hawaii before we have housing, but please understand that it’s unlikely we’ll spend much time with you.

The very last caveat, of course, is that it’s very likely you’ll plan a visit to see Keith and I, and only get me.  As you know, this is a sea duty for Keith, which means he could be deployed, or out for a few weeks, or even just stationed to work 24-hour shifts.  There’s no predicting his schedule behind a few days, or maybe a couple weeks, prior, so you’ll just have to make the best guess and arrive with tempered expectations.

Once we’re in our house and settled, then please – please – please come in droves!  (Okay, not in droves, just one at a time, but we’d very much love to see you all!)

Streets Paved With Gold

William Arthur Ward once wrote, “Opportunity is often difficult to recognize; we usually expect it to beckon us with beepers and billboards.”

Hawaii’s streets may not be paved with gold, but they surely are paved with opportunity.  From volcanoes to replicated Japanese Buddhist temples to world-renown waves, the Aloha State offers a plethora of new experiences and incredible memory-making.

I recently read a blog from an Army wife who truly despises the state.  She mentions the exhorbanent cost of living, the fact that the island is quite small, the lack of amenities and stores like a Super-Walmart, and  the desire to get off the rock every now and then, among other complaints.

I can understand her frustrations:  The cost of living is high (though to be honest, I just went to Chili’s and spent nearly $40 for two adults getting a drink each plus a meal), but not as outrageous as her blog claims it to be.  She’s right that the pickings can be slim depending on where you are, and I imagine there’s always an island upcharge when you have to fly or ship pretty much every ingredient in.  Living in Honolulu, we’ll have less-than-ten-minute access to the giant Commissary and Nex, which will keep our costs reasonable.

When it comes to the size of the island, I can only compare to what I know now – and that’s the fact that I spend the majority of my life within the same confines as that space.  It will seem smaller since the island is more condensed with its population centers and activities, but it’s not as tiny as many presume.  After all, how many of you regularly get out of the Capital District?  And I mean regularly?  I have to admit that I don’t see much change in my local traveling patterns once in Hawaii.  Sure, we’ll take rather regular and frequent trips to the other islands, particularly as the cost is pretty reasonable to do so, but I don’t believe we’ll be traveling the globe – particularly since Keith won’t be able to get away much at all.

Different from Army Wife 101, I’m a beach bum.  I adore spending afternoons reading a good book listening to the ocean waves crash just yards from my feet.  I could spend days visiting different beaches, checking out new hikes, and drinking in the endless sunlight.  I love to swim too, and am fairly certain having given the chance, my mother and I would’ve spent every single waking moment on Long Island’s south shore (instead, we spent every non-working moment there).

There are other complaints about Hawaii, like the bugs, the choices of cuisine, and the endless threat of tsunamis.  My response?  There are bugs on any tropical island, you just have to deal with it.  It’s better than worrying about lyme disease (no lyme ticks = no lyme disease = no annoying hours checking for ticks on the dogs after a hike).  I’m not sure there isn’t much of a choice of cuisine, given I’ve heard about over a dozen amazing restaurants already and I’m a fairly good cook myself.  Tsunamis?  Well, there’s not much you can do to stop mother nature.  A tsunami is not a regular occurrence in Hawaii, and the last major one was recorded in 1975.  In fact, since the early 1800s, there have only been seven major damaging tsunamis to hit the islands.  This, of course, doesn’t mean that it can’t happen again, or while we’re there (knock on wood), but Hawaii has a fairly robust tsunami warning system.  Plus, it’s no more dangerous than living along the east coast facing hurricanes or in the mid-west facing tornadoes, or experiencing the Great Ice Storm of 1998.

So – where am I going with all of this?

The best experiences of my life (at least in traveling) have been those where the experience is local.  Where the restaurant is recommended by our waiter at the hotel, where the excursion is something we meet ‘area natives’ on, where there are no souveniers or knick-knacks or photo ops for $10.  If I’m going to live in Hawaii, I’m going to live in Hawaii.

Too often we take for granted the places around us:  the uniqueness of our our community.  We miss out on the mom-and-pop diners, the long hikes in parks without large advertising budgets, the historical significance of the house across the street.  I grew up in part on Long Island, where there’s not much pride for the history of anything other than mansions out east.  When I moved to Stone Ridge, I found myself living two houses down from an old 1700s-build where George Washington once slept.  Our town’s zoning laws were written to create properties along historic lines.  My driveway wasn’t designed by a random engineer, instead it was bordered by a stone wall built circa 1650s to mark a road through the Catskills.  How cool is that?

I grew up with incredible music venues – like the Tinker Street Cafe, Joyous Lake, and yes, even the Chance (my home at least 2-3 nights a week).  All small and compact, a concert at any one of these meant there’s always a front-row spot for some of music’s most talented artists.  All within 45 minutes of my home.  No wonder I was so damn obsessed with music in high school, and was the most dedicated rude girl on the planet.

I also grew up with amazing food, being just a bit north of the CIA.  The Canal House, New World Home Cooking, the Egg’s Nest.  (Mouth-watering now…)

Plus, who could forget the ledges in High Falls, where we’d all sneak out to the creek and jump in pitch black.  Or hiking at Minnewaska and Mohonk, getting our backpacks stuck in the Lemon Squeeze.

I took advantage of the world around me – saw the sights, tasted the food, and lived in the hippy culture of the Hudson Valley.  And this is what I intend to do in Hawaii – live within the community – taste the food, the culture, the island flava!

Moving to a new place is an opportunity to grow.  Life will be different and will take time to adjust to, but isn’t that the point of it all?  To push your own boundaries, meet new people, experience new things, and come out the other end a new version of yourself?  Are our lives not books, with chapters and volumes to fill with adventure, laughter and tears?

Maybe I’m getting too sentimental here.  It’s entirely possible given my trip through memory lane just a few moments ago, but back to my point:  I want to live in Hawaii. 

I don’t want to be behind barbed wire fences, surrounded only by Navy families – all tourists and newbies in and of themselves.  I want to know Hawaii’s history, and its people.  I want to learn how to hula and surf.  I want to spend time doing what I can to make a difference on the island as I’ve done in New York.  I may forever be a visitor to this paradise, but I’d like to at least be the kind of guest you’re happy to have back anytime.

This is why I can’t live behind barbed wire or in places where all anyone does is stick together in their own community center.  The Navy is my husband’s employer, not his life.  And it’s certainly not my life by a long shot.  The military might dictate where we live, or when we leave, or who my doctor can be and how often I can see my husband, but they won’t dictate who I am or how I live or what values I carry with me.

Living your life behind a fence, in the confines of a military base, to me is like living your life in a mobile pod. You can be anywhere, but the surroundings and experiences are always the same.  Yes, there’s merit to living in homogeneous society – people know your struggles and can share in your tears.  There’s diversity even within Navy families of course, since we all come from different places and cultures ourselves.  That’s something I’ll cherish for sure, but it’s not the only focus on our move to Hawaii.

If you didn’t know, Keith and I had a heck of a time deciding where to go.  At his reenlistment, I was unquestionably decided for Groton, Connecticut.  After all, I love Mystic and I’ve spent a fair amount of time in the state.  It’s very similar to here, particularly Saratoga, and I understand the language so-to-speak.  Yet, as we began considering our future I realized something:  it’s in taking risks that I’ve found the greatest joy, that I’ve molded the best of myself.  It’s in taking opportunities that I’ve found the life I want.  It’s in the face of failure that I’ve shined.

I’m not a risk-taker, despite the benefits.  Anyone that knows me knows this.  It’s safer to shy away from major change, anything difficult or new.  It’s safer to stop doing something if I’m not good at it and rather turn to things that I have confidence in.  I’m an emotional wreck when I move, and while making new friends is fairly easy and a zero-stress issue for me, making new good friends can be a challenge.

So, now is the time to change that – to take the risk.  To live boldly and enjoy paradise.  To move into a Navy housing community, but always consider myself part of a Hawaiian community.  To endure the storm for the sunshine it brings.

Name That Bug

Whoever told me that preparing our house for renters would be easier than preparing it for sale, please comment below so I can smack you in the head.

This weekend, we started some of the minor and major overhauls necessary over the next five months.  It started with the fun (and disgusting) job of powerwashing the gutters, followed by another lovely coat of gray paint on the porch.  After all was said and done, I think the house has a lot more curb appeal than it started out with.  Plus, I’ve always wanted to hang up a wet paint sign!

Next, we decided to tackle the fire pit.  As we began to dig, all I could imagine was being in an episode of Bones and finding myself clunking my shovel on a buried human skull.

Fortunately, we found only one disgusting and revolting thing in the ground – a bug!  What it is, I don’t know.  I’ll give you a lollipop if you can tell me.  What I do know is that it started pooping the very second it became exposed – and boy oh boy did it poop!

We dug for a few hours, and filled up Keith’s truck with the remnants of an old stump, firewood, and stuff that I’d rather consider dirt than the awkward brown mush it appeared to be.  After that, we piled the stones as best as we could to keep a large fire pit, and voila!  It may not be the best in the world, or as beautifully perfect as our neighbors, but it’s functional and free of weeds, trash, and giant, mucusy bugs.

To celebrate the day, I beat Keith at miniature golf.  Seriously!  I did!  I would say this is the second time I’ve ever beaten him at anything.  The first time was Trivial Pursuit.  I wiuld’ve kicked his butt in Monopoly way back when we played with Lesley and Nishant, but he decided he was too bored with the game to continue.  Oddly enough, this was about thirty seconds after I collected nearly all of his money in rent when he landed on one of my properties.

Maybe you’re not as keen as I am to watch home improvements, but I hope you at least mildly enjoy the transformation!

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I love to hike (when it doesn’t kill me)

A few weeks ago, Keith and I decided to spend the day hiking.  It’s a great physical activity and something that both of us enjoy doing (unlike basketball, which I don’t mind doing only that Keith has a tendency to throw the ball at my face and make fun of my lack of jump shot).

Anyway, we went to Moreau Lake State Park, just a half hour north of us in Gansevoort. What a beautiful park!  And cheap too – just a measly $7 to park the car, though hiking maps cost an additional $2.  (They don’t tell you that up front, and when you ask for a map, you think that’s what your getting only to be fooled with a silly, small map illustrating the path from the campground to the beach and back.)

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Keith and I thought we’d hike the “yellow” path up and around the mountain, seeing some of its glorious sights and getting a bit of exercise all the while.  The first part was lovely – so easy-going that we regretted not bringing the dogs.  Then, for whatever reason, the mountain decided to be a mountain and it got tougher than either of us anticipated.  Hence, when the “yellow” path met the “red” path, it was back home, baby.

The three or four hours we hiked was wonderful, despite the unexpected ever-sloping-upwards terrain.  We saw beautiful streams, and found ourselves at the top of the “blue” trail overlooking Moreau Lake. Overall, it was a splendid day – and one that we hope to repeat soon at another local hike spot!