Hawaii

April 22, 1982

April 22, 1982

J in Hawaii
J in Hawaii

In those days, John was such a workaholic that on the rare occasions we did go somewhere for a vacation, his first order of business was to get sick – what I refer to here as the Maui Syndrome. On this particular trip, there was an alternate explanation. On his thirtieth birthday – which occurred a few days prior – John resolved to quit smoking. He did so successfully, cold turkey, with the aid of copious quantities of alcohol. (Giving that up would come three and a half years later.)

Me on the same trip to Hawaii
Me on the same trip to Hawaii

I’m embarrassed to confess I continued to smoke for a few more years, which surely must have been torture for John – especially when enclosed in a car. Mea culpa. I should’ve signed up for Smokenders sooner. In 1982, you could still smoke without being a complete pariah but that would change shortly

Malcolm and Maya Chong - John and his first year law school roommate, Mitch Iwanaga
Malcolm and Maya Chong – John and his first year law school roommate, Mitch Iwanaga

This was one of our final young-and-free vacations.  The friends we travelled with were all unattached as was Mitch. Malcolm and Maya were married but no children yet. J and I left our five-year-old in San Diego with his grandparents (which he loved).

Denise Gail Williams contemplates sea from rock
Denise Gail Williams contemplates sea from  a rock
Kathleen contemplating the ocean as well
Kathleen contemplating the ocean as well

The summer after this I’d give birth to our daughter and the summer after that we’d have our second son. Our single friends, almost en masse, would marry and have children of their own. A new cycle of family-oriented (read child-oriented) vacations would commence. I don’t mean to sound critical – those family vacations hold some of the sweetest memories of my life.

John, Gail and Bennett Traub enjoy a picnic
John, Gail and Bennett Traub enjoy a picnic

It would be years – eighteen or twenty, really, around the time the kids are all off to college – before we’d vacation with adult friends but now it’s got an entirely different quality than those young-and-free days in 1982. We don’t run up and down mountains anymore (truth be told, I never did) and concessions must be made to health. Bathroom stop are more frequent (almost like traveling with a toddler!) and we no longer talk, smoke and drink until 4 AM about our lives because we all tire more easily. What will the next phase be like?  All of these eras have their moments. In my life, I’ve loved them all.

In my life, I've loved them all.
In my life, I’ve loved them all.

September 12, 2012

September 12, 2012

Sick on Vacation 2

The view from my hotel window.
The view from my hotel window.

 My youngest son, Alex, was working at Disney when they offered their employees a great deal on a fall visit to their Aulani family resort in Hawaii. The whole family went – me, J, Chris, Serena, Sam and Alex. I was the only one who spent 90% of it in bed (which also explains the dearth of good photos – I’m usually the family photographer and I didn’t leave our room until the last two days).

Disney Kleenex

The family in hotel corridor.
The family in hotel corridor.

Those final days were great. I braved the water slides and the whole family went to a luau. I took romantic couples pictures of Chris and Serena on the beach – they were getting into heavy wedding planning.

Chris and Serena
Chris and Serena

I wish I’d been able to take better advantage of our surroundings but in a way it’s good we went when we did. It’s easy to travel as a family when the kids are little and have no lives of their own. Traveling as a family with adult children, all of whom actually do have busy lives packed with commitments that can’t be rescheduled as easily as a play date, presents some logistical challenges.

At the luau
At the luau

Chris was thinking through his Thesis film for UCLA. John never travels without frequent calls from the office. Sam was embarking on her MLA in Library Science from Drexel. Somehow, we made it work – five of them did, anyway. I spent six full days hacking away in bed.

John and Alex check cell phones to take care of business (at Luau).
John and Alex check cell phones to take care of business (at Luau).

 

April 18, 1982

April 18, 1982

J settles down after the shock (talking to Jake Jacobson)
J settles down after the shock (talking to Jake Jacobson)

For John’s 30th birthday, I threw him a genuine surprise party (with a little help from my friends). I’ve never done it for anyone else and no one has ever thrown one for me. I’m not sure how I’d react. Given my social anxieties, probably not well.

Anne Kurrasch and future law partners Mary and Jack deNove
Anne Kurrasch and future law partners Mary and Jack Denove

There were a few logistical hiccups. We were leaving for Hawaii in a few days but – to avoid going to work – J told his boss, MPR, he was leaving today. I couldn’t advise him against this without spoiling the surprise even though – since I’d already invited his office staff including MPR – everyone knew he lied. Fortunately, they had a sense of humor.

J with his boss MPR
J with his boss MPR

The party lasted well into the following morning, as most did back then. Turning thirty was a big deal. Only yesterday “Don’t trust anybody over thirty” was a catch phrase. How could people as young as us turn thirty? What happened to our twenties?

Mary Bennett deNove, Anne Kurrasch, me, Joyce Salter
Mary Bennett Denove, Anne Kurrasch, me, Joyce Salter

Decades later, thirty no longer sounds old and the question is different. What happened to our thirties, our forties, our fifties? Before long, we’ll know what Paul Simon meant when he sang “How terribly strange to be seventy.”

J and I with Joyce and John (forever young) Salter
J and I with Joyce and John (forever young) Salter

I don’t feel like I’m fifty, let alone sixty, so I can’t possibly contemplate seventy. I doubt I’m alone here. Almost everyone my age eventually says something like, “I know I don’t look my age.”  I assure them it’s true even though it’s patently false and they do the same for me.  In my mirror, I don’t look my age either but it’s meaningless. In my own eyes, I never will.

J doesn't seem to age

J doesn’t seem to age either, at least not until I see him – or myself – in photographs. There, the truth is revealed. Sometimes I don’t spot myself at all because I’m looking for someone younger. Sometimes I wonder how my mother snuck into the picture. Why are photos so much crueler than the mirror?  Someone out there knows the technical reason. Maybe they can also explain where my thirties and forties went.

Where did our thirty and forties go?

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