8 Minute Memoir

Adventure

~ branolive ~ Leave a comment

I like to think of myself as an adventurous character, but it’s really a matter of opinion. What is an adventure anyway? Is it traipsing through Southeast Asia, alone, with no solid plans or ambitions other than fun? Or is it simply seeking out whatever is new and unusual for you, be it on the grand Southeast Asia scale or the more attainable and achievable day to day trying a new neighborhood restaurant without checking Yelp score? What have I done that screams “ADVENTURE?!?” in the last months? I booked a trip to Portland to visit my best friend, having never stepped foot on the West Coast. Travelling cross country alone will surely be an adventure, right? I continue to ignore past lessons and try to date in the least dateable city in America, is this a form of adventuring or a form of insanity? Perhaps both? Now I am wondering if there is an element of insanity in any adventure- we know the risks and yet we make bold moves, hoping that this time will be different.

Maybe an adventure is any bold more you make, unique to each person. It’s choosing the unknown or uncomfortable in hopes of an outcome that you have no control over. A mix of blind faith, boredom and insanity. Why not take the chance? At least you’ll have a story to tell.

billboards

~ branolive ~ Leave a comment

Driving into Winchester, VA right after you crossed over the railroad tracks on Millwood Avenue there was a billboard. Small, not the kind you saw driving down 95 towards to beaches, only a few feet off of the ground. For most of my childhood it advertised Hardee’s Restaurant, even when there stopped being a Hardee’s in town. More importantly, it was a landmark signaling that we were moments away from Grandma Jane’s house.

Our trips to Winchester were frequent and fun. Bear hunts through to neighborhood down and around the Handley High School campus, living room wrestling matches with Uncles who could wield us all off at once while swigging from a cold Yvengling. Big family dinners, two cousins per chair, stuffed shells oozing ricotta cheese. I never remember feeling anxious there, worried what anyone might think. It’s special and rare and wonderful to be able to just be somewhere. Which is probably why I feel such tenderness towards that Hardee’s billboard, it signaled a promise of belonging, warmth and familiarity.

I Don’t Remember…

~ branolive ~ Leave a comment

A time when food was not a reward or a punishment, friend and enemy, but most often a secret. Maybe having a mother who struggled with her weight influenced this thinking. Maybe it’s more innate, ingrained, genetic. Could the potato famine lead to inherited trauma? Where did it start? M&M’s as potty training reinforcement, Dairy Queen dip cones after school. 6 butter Santas missing their heads, pewter bowls of Doritos before dinner to keep the children quiet. Celebrations and gatherings and funerals. Ample bottomed aunts and uncles who buckle their belts under their bellies. Instead of asking questions I don’t have answers to (or need answers too, really) perhaps I just need to reframe my thinking entirely. Choose acceptance and letting go. No more shame. Fuel. Joy. Celebration.

I remember…

~ branolive ~ Leave a comment

When the first day of school was fraught with anxiety and anticipation. Every detail was fretted over, from my choice of shoes to which pencil cases as the RIGHT one for that school year. It was exciting, it was scary it was NEW. Forget Spring- Fall and the start of the new school year was all about rebirth/beginning anew. In early elementary school it was all about who your teacher was going to be and if your friends would be in your class. Which neighborhood kids would walk to school with you,  if the 6th graders would be nice.  The supplies and fashion were secondary… Though I can also remember almost every first day of school outfit I ever wore. Plaid and denim played such a major role in my elementary school wardrobe you might think I grew up in the country. As I got older the fashions and accessories became MUCH more important. As if the right outfit, sneakers and backpack would set the tone for the PERFECT school year- a balance of popularity, academic achievement and athletic prowess that I had yet to achieve. And never did, come to think of it.

This morning, on what was (give or take a few years when I wasn’t a student or an educator of some kind) my 22nd First Day of School I rolled out of bed at 7:20 (after snoozing Frank Ocean’s morning serenade for 45 minutes) made coffee, threw on my “uniform” (office appropriate wrap dress with bun and conservative for me lipstick) and rushed out the door. No anxiety, no anticipation. Excited, yes but not at all nervous. Have I figured out that there’s really nothing to worry about? Or have I figured out how little I am actually in control? Probably both.