Hobbies

Stargazing

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It’s that amazing time of year when the Perseids make their luminous entrance into our atmosphere. Last night, my daughter and I lay side-by-side on a blanket in the grass, surrounded by friends, and stared at the sky, trying not to blink, willing stars to shoot, fall, and dazzle. We were in the same spot where she saw her first shooting star, figuring it must be good luck.

Her first was actually one of the Geminids. Earlier that summer, on a beach vacation in Ocean Isle, I had seen at least two shooting stars, and one glamorous falling star over the ocean. She missed them all. When the Geminids came around that December, we were determined to see her first fiery streak of space debris together. So we sat in our car, wrapped in blankets, staring off towards its namesake constellation. After an hour, we were about to give up, when a brilliant light streaked across the horizon. When we both inhaled sharply together, I knew she’d seen it. Magic.

My high school sweetheart and I used to stargaze all the time. We actually sought out fields and rock ledges and water edges on which to sit and marvel at the sky, and sometimes at the twinkling in each other’s eyes.

At summer camp when I was about 10 years old, closing ceremony took place in the evening. I’m not sure if the timing was planned because they knew there would be a meteor shower, or if the light show was a happy coincidence. Either way, the giant bonfire paled in comparison to the celestial fireworks I witnessed that night.

A couple of years earlier, I went on an elementary school field trip to the planetarium for a star show. Hearing the narrator tell short stories about the constellations while highlighting them across the giant domed ceiling whetted my appetite for making astronomy a hobby.

At an even younger age, I remember being in the old Suburban with my family, when my dad pulled the car over alongside a field and told us to get out. It was that night that I learned about the Big Dipper and the North Star. The sky was big that night, and all of the stars were awake. I fell in love with stars in that awe-inspiring moment. Perhaps by fate, my first constellation was also my high school mascot: The Bear, and our yearbook is titled, “Ursa.”

Last night, a few Perseids made an appearance at our Star Party. I love that my daughter and I will always have shared experiences like this to cherish. I hope that I am paying it forward by stirring up in her a curiosity about the stars. I hope that she also feels moved while being still, grounded while staring into the expanse of the heavens, and filled with faith that something amazing is about to happen.

Reel Time

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One of my first jobs was working at the Video Galaxy, renting out VHS tapes to my friends and neighbors. I also worked for Mike’s Video in college, and later for Blockbuster. Needless to say, I’ve watched a lot of movies in my time. I’ve been so busy raising my daughter and working multiple jobs over the last decade, that I haven’t seen many new movies or tv series…outside of cartoons, anyway.

I keep seeing things on social media about these Netflix binges, and it seemed like such a nice thought to lie on my couch and not get up for days, that I made a New Year’s Resolution to watch more TV. Honestly! I just want to be home and lie on my couch and enjoy being still. So I forced myself to sit and watch a few different series that had been recommended, but then I hit a speed bump. There are so many options and streaming services, that I just felt overwhelmed and didn’t know where to go from there. Plus, I’m never quite sure if it’s a show I can watch while my daughter’s awake, never mind if she’s in the room with me. So, I decided to forget television shows, and take it back to what I know… movies.

My daughter and I have become self-proclaimed movie critics. We’ve been watching all of the best movies from my childhood, the 80s and early 90s, and it has been amazing! I love that we laugh at the same parts and gasp together and cry on cue. We watched the Molly Ringwald/John Hughes’ movies, Dirty Dancing, Jaws, Footloose, Pretty Woman, and The Princess Bride, among many others, with plenty more in queue. The more we watch, the more I feel at home. And not just a location, but a feeling of contentment. A feeling that I am back where I belong. And bonus! I’m with the person I love the most, and she gets to have a glimpse into who I was when I was her age.

Sometimes we have to go back to who we were to remember who and where we want to be now. And we can go back in lots of ways, not just through movies. My daughter and I sing along to music from my childhood that is now, shockingly, qualified as “classic.” I also read her books that I first read thirty-something years ago. And then there are the toys and games and hobbies and so much more. I love rediscovering these old loves, but I love, even more, that she loves them just as much.

Everybody Loves A Parade

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Memorial Day is, of course, a time to reflect and mourn the loss of our fallen heroes, but to also celebrate what we have gained as a result of their service and sacrifices. Memorial Day has become the unofficial kickoff to summer with all of the cookouts, pool openings, and parades.

Throughout my childhood, on Memorial Day, my family and I would walk down our road to the town center to watch the annual parade. Most years, at least one of us was in the parade. Whether it was the marching band or the fyfe and drum corps, we’d meet with our group in the Geissler’s parking lot to warm up and line up.

That parade would always march to the town cemetery for the playing of Taps, the flag ceremony, and the gun salute, then on to the old middle school for speeches, and then back to the town center for the laying of the wreaths. It was a long, hot morning for those of us who marched, but we always felt proud to be a part of the day.

Actually, I always felt proud to be a part of any parade while marching with the fyfe and drum corps. We were the Marquis of Granby, and we were really good. We were known for our crisp uniforms and precise and serious presentations. We were also probably considered the ‘snobby’ fyfe and drum corps at musters, but we embraced it because we knew we were good, and that made us feel good and want to be even better. It’s laughable to think of a group of kids dressed in revolutionary war-time garb marching down the street as snobby when, in fact, we were actually a very silly group of kids. We just knew when to act right.

Marquis of Granby marching through the town center on Memorial Day

I loved being a part of that organization. We traveled all over the Northeast for parades and musters. Our leaders were great at supplementing our trips with other learning experiences, like whale watches, dinner theaters, and touring museums and churches. And even without the extras, it was a learning experience just to visit other places and witness the townsfolk celebrating whatever that particular parade was about. One of my favorites was the Blessing of the Fleet in Gloucester, MA. It was a very long parade, but it was along the coastline, and we stopped for a break at just about every church in town while the priests gave their blessings. At the end we’d get to witness the spectacle of the Greasy Pole contest, while costumed contestants would attempt to make their way to the end of a 45-foot telephone pole to grab a flag before falling into the water. Memorable, for sure.

If I had to guess, I’d say I marched in close to 100 parades with the corps over the few years I was a member. I’m not sure if that equals the 10,000 hours of practice that is required to achieve mastery, but I know that at 30 years later, I can still pick up my fyfe and play many of our songs by memory. I don’t march anymore, and maybe I just haven’t been looking close enough, but fife and drum corps don’t seem to be as popular down here in the south. Either way, I still love a parade, so I’m always up for going and watching all of the groups show what they know, as silly or as serious as they may be.