Category Archives: Splashes

I’m NOT the King of the Nerds

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Vintage Typewriter

Vintage Typewriter | Credit: MorgueFile.com | Click to embiggen

I’m NOT the King of the Nerds.
I’m not even a contender.
I’m a Digital Diva and Bathtub Mermaid.
But I’m doing their meme anyway.

There’s a new “reality” show on TBS called King of the Nerds. I’ve never watched it (and likely won’t – I’m not a reality show fan in any measure. In fact, this year, I’ve even removed Project Runway from my DVR queue), but I’ve seen the promos, so I at least knew what my friend Kim was referencing when she posted her answers to the contestants’ bio questionnaire on her Facebook page.

I love a good meme as much as anyone, and so I’ve stolen the questions:

1. Game of Thrones, The Walking Dead or Battlestar Galactica: Of these three? Game of Thrones, even though I’ve not read the books. (But Fuzzy has.)

2. “World of Warcraft” or “Call of Duty”: Neither. I don’t play MMORPGs, ever. In fact, I almost never play computer games of ANY KIND, unless the online version of “Ticket to Ride” counts.

3. Math or Science: Science, with only enough math as is necessary to comprehend music.

4. Edison or Tesla: Tesla, even if Edison did live in New Jersey.

5. “Asteroids” or “Ms. PacMan”: “Ms. Pacman,” if only because I have fond recollections of going to Mel’s Diner on Thursday nights when I was at USF, and then climbing back up the hill to the dorms to play in our unofficial tournament. (Why Thursday? Because none of us had early classes on Friday, but some of us were weekend commuters.)

6. Favorite Superhero: I’m old school: Superman.

7. Favorite Video Game: See my answer to number two. Although, Fuzzy got me a copy of the “House, M.D.” game for my birthday, and that was sort of fun.

8. Favorite TV Show: Anything Aaron Sorkin writes. I re-watch The West Wing once a year, I’m in love with The Newsroom, and I loved both Sports Night and Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip. (Apologies to my Whedon-esque and Whovian friends, love that stuff, too, but nothing gets me like Sorkin’s dialogue. (And I bet y’all thought the answer would be one of the Star Trek series.))

9. Favorite Movie: I don’t really have a favorite, but the two I recommend a lot are Midnight in Paris and We Bought a Zoo. My favorite genre films are Star Trek (2009), because it made me love Captain Kirk again, and the original 1982 A Nightmare on Elm Street, because Robert Englund is just phenomenal as Freddy.

10. Favorite Musician or Band: My listening tastes are so weird, and so elastic. Right now, I’m really into a French jazz/pop singer known as Sanseverino. (If you saw the Meryl Streep film It’s Complicated a few years ago, his song “Mal o Main” was playing under the chocolate croissant scene.) I’m listening to a lot of Pavel Stratan’s stuff, but it’s all in Russian, which I don’t actually speak. I love John Boutte and Harry Connick, Jr. I can’t get enough Yo-Yo Ma. Katy Perry’s music is disgustingly singable, and Voice of the Beehive are old college favorites (as are the Barenaked Ladies). I listen to pop, rock, folk, jazz, blues, showtunes, and sometimes even a little country. I’m not a fan of rap, but there are one or two tracks that I like.

11. If you have a pet (what they are and what their name is): In order of size: Maximus (aka Max, dog, pointer), Cleo (dog, terrier mix), and Pericles (aka Perry, dog, chihuahua/papillon). We’re also a foster home, so there’s usually a foster dog here. Currently, our foster is a chihuahua named Ace.

12. The one celebrity/icon (past/present) you would have wanted on your team on the show: I really can’t answer this since I haven’t seen the show, but I suspect the best asset would be Felicia Day or Wil Wheaton, both of whom create stuff that entertains and amuses me. Do they count as icons, though? If not, then maybe I should choose Colin Mochrie, because he can improvise his way through anything…though I’m pretty certain he’s not an icon, either.

13. Aliens – Exist or Myth: If Space is truly infinite than mathematically the likelihood that Earth is the only inhabited planet is extremely low. As with ghosts, I believe in the possibility. I do NOT believe anyone has come to probe people.

Thursday 13 – Shapeless

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waterfall-by-klawsterphobia-at-morguefilex400

I wanted to explore shapeless things today…Shape is subjective, to a point. For some substances, shape is determined by containment or confinement, for others, it’s an act of physics. And there’s metaphysical shapelessness, as well. In any case, here’s my list.

(I should note: I’m feeling oddly abstract today. If I were an artist, I’d be doing Pollack-esque splatter painting.)

  1. Water. I could list any fluid, of course, but the reality is that the shapelessness of fluids is due to water content, so if you take water away, shape exists.
  2. Thoughts. Shapeless, formless, free-flowing. Thoughts have no shape. Ideas have rudimentary shape.
  3. Dreams. Like conscious thoughts, dreams exist only in transitory moments, taking up temporary habitation, filling all space, and no space. Usually at once.
  4. Colors. One could argue that colors do have a shape because they’re made of light waves, but for the moment, let’s ignore physics, shall we?
  5. Emotions. Can a thing that has a color still have no shape? Because some emotions are vibrantly hued, while others are soft pastels.
  6. Straight lines. Shape requires three dimensions.
  7. The Senses. We taste, see, smell, hear, and touch things that have shape, form, and substance but we do this by utilizing those which have none.
  8. Truth. Lies are angular things, but truth is pure and therefore has no shape of its own.
  9. Breath. Whether in hitches or sighs, in invisible puffs or frosty huffs, breath has no shape. Our mouths form it to our needs.
  10. Clay. Malleable, damp, earthy, it has no natural shape, taking on the contours of the negative spaces left by objects, both natural and manufactured.
  11. Sand. Individual grains have shape, but collectively sand has none.
  12. Faith. Faith comes in many forms – spiritual, personal, emotional – but it has no true shape.
  13. Space. Douglas Adams reminded us that “Space is big. Bigger than big.” Can anything so large as to be literally immeasurable have any kind of shape that is discernible?

Pay No Attention to the Chipped Nail Polish

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coffee cup ring Pay no attention to the chipped nail polish evident on my pinky. Instead, pay attention to the ring. My ring. My wonderful, silver, steaming-coffee ring.

I’d seen it on Facebook months ago, as had my mother, but had no idea where to get one. Imagine my surprise when my mother, grinning in that gushy way that only mothers can, presented me with a wrapped box on Christmas morning. “What does the card say?” she prompted, unbridled glee evident on her face.

“‘To my favorite coffee companion,'” I read aloud. Coffee has been a ‘thing’ for my mother and me ever since she would spoon a couple of teaspoons of her coffee into my milk on special mornings. These days our coffee dates are mostly virtual, because of geographical limitations, but no less special.

I opened the box, as I always do, with efficient ripping of paper. I will never be one of those people who saves every precious piece of tissue. (Except, well, this year I did make people return their tissue, since I had to throw away all the old tissue I’d used to wrap my ornaments after the horrifying mildew incident.) I believe wrapping paper is meant to be ripped. It’s even better when you get to hear that satisfying tearing of the paper – tissue doesn’t make that sound half as well as sturdier paper.

Inside a bag, inside the box, was this ring. A ring I’ve secretly coveted for months. A ring I never expected to find on Christmas morning.

“I love it,” I told my mother. “Where did you find it?”

“I saw it on Facebook,” she said. “And a friend knew a jewelry maker, who made copies.”

“Isn’t that illegal?” I asked, not that I had any intention of returning the ring.

“Actually,” my mother said, “it’s not. You can’t copyright design.”

So, pay no attention to my hands that were badly in need of moisturizer and a warm mug to hold, and look instead at the awesome gift I got, one among several awesome, special gifts, of which the greatest was sharing the holiday with family.

Pay no attention to the chipped nail polish either (I haven’t had TIME to get a mani-pedi in forever.)

Instead, pour a mug of something warm and tasty, and join me in toasting the people you love.

Human Moments and High Percentage Choices

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Blue Christmas

Sometimes leaving all of your visiting family at home and heading out to midnight mass is a high percentage choice.

2:00 AM. Christmas Morning.
We arrived home from the late service at St. Alban’s at the Theatre just as the rain was beginning to fall, and the thunder and lightning hailed our arrival even before the dogs started barking their greeting. (The last three words are unofficial, and I add them here simply because, to me, the fact that this church meets in a theater is somehow appropriate. Theater celebrates words, and church the Word made flesh, and yes, my metaphor needs work, but really, how lucid are YOU at this hour? And besides who’s to say a theater is any less sacred a space than the Of-the-Meadow or In-the-Woods spaces we’re accustomed to seeing?)

If I had to pick one word to describe my feeling at the end of this “midnight” mass, it would be the one I used with Mother Melanie: satisfying. Just as a really good meal leaves you neither still hungry nor over-stuffed, so, too, does a really good church service. And tonight’s service, while a little unconventional, was really good. Really…satisfying.

I think what I responded to the most were the human moments. Tonight’s service was mostly a cappella, and before the actual mass, there was a time of carol singing, led by the clergy sitting at the foot of the stage, asking for the congregation to choose the songs to be sung. (My favorites are not easily sung unless you know them – “Once in Royal David’s City,” for example – so I didn’t make suggestions – but I was silently thanking previous choir directors (Clyde Putman, Glorian Mulligan Stratton) for their attention to sight-singing and a cappella work, because while I “know” most all the songs we did tonight in the caroling and during the Eucharist, some I’d only ever sung alto on, and one was completely unfamiliar.)

But in addition to the singing, there were other human moments, like watching three young men (young enough to retain traces of childhood in their faces) singing “O Come All Ye FaithFul,” or listening to a guitar duet of “Silent Night,” or a delightful Oboe solo. Or even the moment when a phone went off and it turned out to be Mother Melanie’s own. After watching UUCOC move from a church full of such moments to one where even applause was discouraged, and people were required to “applaud” in ASL, it is these moments – spontaneous applause, appreciative chuckling, reverent irreverence – that really make a church feel comfortable to me. I like the ritual of high church, but I like the ease that comes from accepting that we are all human, all flawed.

I guess these moments sort of make me feel like God is the Ultimate Improvisor, and that when we allow ourselves to simply BE we are playing along in the grand game of “Yes, And.” (Lately, everything has come back to improv for me, which is weird, because I haven’t actually DONE any formal performances in well over a year.)

So, yes, I like this St. Alban’s-at-the-Theatre immensely. AND I got to do one of the readings tonight, which was almost like a Christmas present because I’ve always wanted to do that. AND I got to sing with Fuzzy in church tonight, which is another thing that always makes me feel grounded and centered. AND the people in this congregation are so warm, smart, funny and engaging that we hung out til one AM chatting even though we meant to linger for only a few minutes (AND they sent me home with leftover wine). AND I want to go back.

I’m never sure if God has a specific plan for me, or not. (See that bit about improv, again.) I’m still learning how to discern that still, small voice inside myself and, even more, to actually listen to it.

But as we drove home, I realized I felt completely at peace and connected with the world. True, a good part of that feeling was Christmas magic, but an equal measure was the result of feeling like I was answering a quiet call.

Whether it’s playing a specific character on stage, or feeling the click of satisfaction after mass, going with your gut instinct is usually a high percentage choice. And those human moments? They’re just another kind of Truth, and the best comedy – the best ART – always comes from a place of Truth.

Lagging

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I’m woefully behind in my blog, my book blog, and a Christmas project, and almost behind on work. Tomorrow, I’m staying home while my parents go out, so that I can finish what I need to with at least ONE of those things.

Right now, I’m tired, but it’s the tired that comes from a long day full of small gifts (and large ones) rather than a stress-borne tired, though there was some stress involved; I just can’t talk about it just now.

In the meantime, I’m writing this post mostly to prove I’m still here, still connected.

Tomorrow: baking cookies and writing tons of words.

Friday: Shopping for the Christmas party I’m hosting.

Saturday: Party on.

Sunday: SLEEP? At least I hope so.

And now? One more episode of Numb3rs on Netflix before bed.

Little Church in Grand Prairie

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St. Joseph's Episcopal Church

This morning, Fuzzy and I visited a church we’ve driven by innumerable times since moving here eight years ago, but have never been in: St. Joseph’s Episcopal Church here in south Grand Prairie.

The building looks more like it should be on the prairie of South Dakota than in the middle of the DFW metroplex, with it’s gray clapboard construction and welcoming red doors. Inside, it’s much brighter and cheerier than the humble facade would imply, with white walls, hardwood floors and a wooden railing at the altar. As we listened to the choir rehearsing, I remarked to Fuzzy, “This feels like something out of Little House on the Prairie.” The grey sky and large empty field (lot, really, but let’s pretend it’s a field) outside the clear windows only added to that feeling.

Apparently the church was originally the All Faiths Chapel at Naval Station Dallas (why a landlocked city needs a navy base is something I haven’t yet determined), back in the 1940s. It was supposed to be torn down in the 60s, but instead was donated to the church, and moved to its current location.

I liked the building.

The service, however, didn’t thrill me. Or rather, it confused me.

Let me explain: Grand Prairie is part of the Episcopal Diocese of Fort Worth. When we first moved here, we went “church shopping,” and began attending St. Andrew’s Episcopal at the other end of town. St. Joseph’s is much closer, but it doesn’t have a functioning website, and when I left voicemail for both both churches, only the folks at St. Andrew’s responded.

I liked St. Andrew’s, the people were a great mix of old and young, it has the local Episcopal school which meant that kids were involved in most activities, and the music director/choir master/cantor was awesome. But then there was a split in the diocese, where the old-school, ultra-conservative sect (led by Bishop Iker) basically bailed on the ECUSA (the Episcopal Church of the United States of America) because they objected to the ordination of women and gay people as Bishops (well, at all when it came to gay people.)

So now, there are two groups calling themselves the Diocese of Fort Worth. One, the old-school ultra-conservative group, petitioned for oversight and realigned itself with the Southern Cone, which is what oversees Episcopal churches in Latin America. The more modern, liberal folks stayed with ECUSA. On a parish-by-parish basis, some entire parishes went one way, some went another, and many still worship together, but are waiting for court decisions on who owns property.

One of the reasons I like the Episcopal church, in general, is that there are women priests and bishops, and there are gay people in those positions as well, so when the split happened, I couldn’t in good conscience continue to worship in a place that went with the old guard. Still love the individual people, but disagreed with their choice.

We spent the next several years at the local UU Church, where I made some very warm friends and was pretty active, but I got tired of the politics (even though I agree with most of them) and really felt like I needed to be in a place where there was a woman in the pulpit. It’s a funny thing about UU churches – most of the congregations are primarily women, yet most of the ministers are men, and even though they’re warm, smart, enlightened men, I like a different perspective.

This was really brought home to me on Christmas Eve, 2010, when a bunch of us went to midnight mass at an Episcopal church in Fort Worth (the modern diocese) with the first female rector in the diocese. She was AWESOME, and the Christmas story has never had so much impact. But that church is a 40 minute drive.

So we checked out one a little closer – St. Alban’s in Arlington, which is currently meeting (well, the modern part) at Theater Arlington. Love the priest-in-charge, love the music, seems like a nice group, but they start at 9:30 in the morning, and for Fuzzy and me the difference between a 9:30 start time and a 10:00 start time is significant, especially since it’s in downtown Arlington – a minimum drive time of twenty minutes.

Anyway, I wanted to go there this morning, but 9:30 wasn’t going to happen, so I said, “Look, I know St. Joseph’s is with the old diocese, but we’ve sung with many of those people during Lessons and Carols, and it’s literally close enough to walk to (if we felt like it), so let’s check it out.”

So we did.

The music was lovely, and, to a point, mass is mass. Different churches use different forms of the service, but they’re all essentially the same during Advent. But the subject of the sermon went a little to far into “people will always be evil until they come to God” territory, and I don’t believe one MUST be religious to be a good person. Faith and Morality are not always a package deal.

As well, even though this is Rose Sunday, I was really jarred by the use of the Hail Mary (which isn’t usually an Episcopal prayer) as part of the service. (I learned the Hail Mary from my grandmother, I have no problem with it, particularly, I just wasn’t expecting it.) I know there are some Episcopal churches that are becoming sort of Anglo-Catholic, but I wasn’t expecting that here.

And then, there was this underlying feeling of guilt about being there in the first place, when I left a church I mostly liked because of the whole split.

So, am I glad I got to see the inside of the building (and I confess, the BUILDING has been drawing me)? Yes. But when a friend asked me if I enjoyed the service my answer was – and still is – “Yes and No.”

Holidailies 2012

Five Things I’m Not Going to Write About…Much

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Blue Christmas

It’s 6:23 AM, and I’m awake, not because I’m grieving over yesterday’s shooting in Connecticut (though I am saddened by it), and not because I’m anticipating anything specific happening today (though every day is worthy of anticipation) but because my brain is spinning ideas like so much cotton candy, and even though I’d much rather be dreaming, I’m sitting in bed with my laptop on a pillow and a dog pinning my ankle to the mattress. At least it’s one of the smaller dogs.

There are so many topics in my head, but instead of picking one, I’m sharing five I’m not going to write entire posts about:

  1. Sandy Hook, CT:Yes, it was horrible and horrifying. Yes, it was tragic. But as I’m not directly related to the situation, am not a parent at all (dogs don’t count in this instance) and don’t have either magical powers or a viable solution to this recurring problem, I’m going to quietly say a prayer for the children, those who lived and those who died, for the adults (same categories) and for the parents and families of all of them. Whether prayer is a plea for help or merely adding my energy to the vortex doesn’t matter. In this case, it really is the thought that counts. HOWEVER, I have no patience for people who were NOT directly involved, directly affected, being maudlin about events like this for weeks. Tragedy happens, but dwelling on it is often just a waste of time.
  2. Gun Control: Do we, as a culture, need to talk about real measures? Yes. Do I believe it’s far too easy to obtain guns in America? Yes. Do I believe the average citizen either needs a gun or “should” own one? No. But neither do I believe that my posting so on Facebook or Twitter will do anything to fix THAT problem either. I think we’re all too likely to shoot first and ask questions later. Beyond that: I don’t allow guns in my home, and I think that, unless they’re in day-glow colors and shoot only water, gun-shaped toys are wildly inappropriate for all children.
  3. The War on Christmas: The thing is, there isn’t one. We live in a pluralist society. We have for centuries, now, and it’s time we all just admit it, and move along. If you’re Christian and your neighbor is Jewish or Muslim (or Wiccan, or some other kind of Pagan, or an Atheist, or Agnostic, or completely uncomfortable defining their spiritual practice), count yourself lucky that you get to maybe learn first-hand about a different perspective on faith. If you go back far enough, the stories are the same, and the meanings behind them profoundly simple: Be kind to people. Treat your neighbors at least as well as you would treat your family. Be good to the earth, we only have one. Recognize that we are all human, and that the things that unite us are far more numerous than the things which divide us. Christmas isn’t going away any time soon. Stop worrying about non-existent attempts to end it, and celebrate, instead. You’ll be much happier.
  4. The Separation of Church and State: I’m sick to death of people saying we need to bring God back into schools. No. We don’t. Religion is the job of parents and religious leaders. Schools exist to give everyone a baseline education so they can function in the world as independent adults. No school is equipped to teach religion or religious history without bias, and frankly, math, languages (including English), science, history, geography, and critical thinking are far more important. Besides, I don’t think God needs a remedial education, and I’m pretty sure God is already conversant in everything from astrophysics to zoology, though the free reading period that included Robert Jordan’s Wheel of Time series was probably skipped over in an attempt to remain sane. Anyway, freedom OF religion has to include freedom FROM religion, or it’s just empty words. Do I think everyone should go take a course in “the Bible as literature,” at some point? Yes. But I also think we should still be teaching kids cursive writing and accurate world history, as well as art and music. Then again, I’m not a parent (see point one).
  5. Vegetarians: I’m very happy that a portion of our society has given up meat. More bacon for the rest of us! What makes me unhappy is this holier-than-thou attitude that somehow being a vegetarian is the only ethical choice. First of all, are you aware of the great number of small animals (including rodents, which, okay, not really on anyone’s menu so much, but still…) die every time fields are harvested by machines or the land is turned over? Look it up sometime. As well, unless you live in a place where your entire diet is grown locally, you are just as guilty of helping to ruin the planet by transporting things from distant places or growing things where they’re not native. Also? Humans are omnivores. Look it up. Meat has ALWAYS been part of our diet. I do, however, agree that we need to eat LESS meat, as a rule, and that when we raise animals with the intent of eating them we have an obligation to treat them well. I don’t even have an issue with hunting, as long as it’s for food and not sport, and the whole animal gets used. It would be hypocritical of me to be anti-hunting – I like venison too much.

So those are my five mini-rants. But here’s a bonus one: SOCIAL MEDIA.

A lot, today, but fairly regularly over the last four years, I’ve seen people killing off-line friendships because of political/spiritual/cultural opinions posted on Twitter and Facebook. I find this absurd. Before we had social media allowing us to share every thought (or fraction thereof) that crosses our minds, we still held opinions that were sometimes wildly divergent from the opinions of our friends and families, we just didn’t know about it, and I think we got along much better.

I’m lucky. I have friends and family from all over the political and spiritual spectrum. I get along better with those who have views similar to mine, but I don’t believe we have to agree with each other all the time in order to love each other, or to get along. I’m a writer. Expressing myself is both my hobby and my job, but sometimes I think we should be much more intentional about what we put out into the world.

I’m not Jewish but over the past several years, ever since I learned of it, the concept of tikkun olem has really resonated with me. It’s about healing the world. From the ground up, from the heart down, with hands and minds and whatever else we each have to give. I’m going to repeat myself: the things that unite us are more numerous than the things which divide us. Go find a way to unite people today. Be kind to one another.

And thanks for reading this.

Happy Holidailies

Lost and Found

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So, I have a new cousin.

Well, not a new cousin. She’s thirty-five.

A new-to-me cousin.

I don’t want to ‘out’ her by mentioning her name, and her story isn’t mine to tell, either, but we’ve exchanged texts and become Facebook friends, and hopefully in a few days when things are a bit less overwhelming, we’ll get to actually talk, because she seems like a neat person, and as someone who is (biologically) an ‘only’ child, I have a special fondness for finding family members.

So, my message to her was just to welcome her to my crazy, smart, diverse, stubborn, loving family.

Of course, our family is not without its share of angst.

Whose is?

But I’m not part of the angst in this case, merely an outside observer, but today that distance, that detachment put me in the position of offering comfort and advice from someone from whom I’ve often sought solace for myself.

It’s odd, this role-reversal that happens as we get older. I sat down intending to write about all the strong women – both in my family, and in the greater world – that I’m privileged to know, and instead I find myself marveling about my own inner strength, and musing about paths untaken that I’m still considering.

I love that I find new things about myself and about the world every day.

And I love that lost and found don’t have to be opposites, because both conditions share a similarity: they represent change.

Thursday 13: Coasting

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Seaside Heights Roller Coaster After Sandy by Brian Thompson

I don’t know the name of the roller coaster at Seaside Heights, NJ that was washed to sea by Hurricane Sandy last week, but Brian Thompson’s image of the scene – framed by the storm-tossed timbers from the boardwalk itself – has been permanently etched onto my brain. I’ve spent a lot of time at boardwalk amusement parks and piers over the years, so, as a tribute to Seaside Heights, Asbury Park, Keansburg, and boardwalks elsewhere, my first Thursday 13 in months is a list of my favorites:

  1. The Galaxy, Asbury Park, NJ: The first coaster I ever encountered, long since dismantled, but living on in my memory.
  2. The Giant Dipper, Santa Cruz, CA: One of the last remaining wooden roller coasters still in operation. The front gives the best view of the water, the back gives the joltiest ride.
  3. The Wildcat, Keansburg, NJ: Modern-ish, with corkscrews and such, but amazing night lighting.
  4. The Giant Dipper, Belmont Park (San Diego), CA: Another version of the coaster at Santa Cruz, further down the coast. Built in 1925 and recently restored.
  5. The Hurricane, Santa Cruz, CA: This coaster was the scarier of the two at Santa Cruz’s boardwalk, but 2012 was it’s last year in operation. It’s being replaced in 2013 by a spinning coaster called the Undertow.
  6. The Great White, Wildwood, NJ: Another wooden coaster, though technically it’s wood and steel. Classic coaster.
  7. The Cyclone, Luna Park, Coney Island, NY: Probably the most iconic boardwalk roller coaster in American history.
  8. Galaxi Coaster, Palace Playland, Portland, ME: Italian made steel coaster with a minimum height requirement of 42 inches even if you’re riding with a parent.
  9. Boardwalk Bullet, Kemah Boardwalk, Galveston, TX: A classic wooden coaster in a warm-weather locale. Everything really is bigger in Texas.
  10. Rolling Thunder, Six Flags Great Adventure, Jackson, NJ: Okay, technically, this isn’t a boardwalk coaster, but it’s in New Jersey, so I’m counting it because it was the first BIG coaster I ever rode.
  11. The Swamp Fox, Family Kingdom, Myrtle Beach, SC: Another classic wooden coaster (you find these a lot at boardwalks). I’ve not been on this one; it’s on my list.
  12. Looping Star, Ocean City, MD: Another on my list of must-do’s, this one’s in Maryland, and looks awesome.
  13. The West Coaster, Pacific Park, Santa Monica, CA: This is the only seaside coaster in LA, and it’s as iconic as the coasters in Asbury Park and Coney Island to folks from the left coast. If you remember the opening of Three’s Company you know this coaster.

Jersey Strong: Sandy Hook Lives

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Sandy Hook Sign by USNavy13@Instagram

Has it really been over a week since I’ve written anything here? I guess it has. I wish I could tell you that I’ve been off having grand adventures, but the reality is that I spent most of last week, except Halloween, watching coverage of Hurricane Sandy, first on The Weather Channel, and then via News 12 New Jersey, a cable channel that I could live-stream over my Google TV. Now, my mother and I share a love of weather movies and weather disaster films, and I do try not to buy into hype when there’s a real weather disaster, but Hurricane Sandy was personal for me, even though I was dry, warm, and safe here in Texas.

Why?

Because I was born in Ocean County, NJ at Fort Monmouth.
Because I spent the first four years of my life hearing the foghorn wafting over Sandy Hook.
Because every summer until I was thirteen, I stayed with my grandparents in Middletown, and went to the beach at Sandy Hook, Ocean Grove, and Avon-by-the-Sea.
Because the year I was nine, my mother and I lived in Ocean Grove, two blocks from the ocean.
Because when I was little Asbury Park still had a functioning amusement park (I loved the tilt-a-whirl and spinning teacups), and I’ve been to Seaside Heights more than once.
Because I remember walking up and down the piers of the Atlantic Highlands yacht harbor before going to my cousin’s diner for rice pudding.
Because Sandy Hook, and Fort Hancock (which is out on the Hook) are among my favorite placed on earth, and I have played in the bunkers, and climbed the lighthouse, and built sand castles and learned to swim in the salty blue ocean off those beaches.
Because I have family and friends, and friends who may as well be family who have spent the last week and a half bailing water out of their houses, not having heat, not having power, not having working water, because of Sandy, and now today’s snowstorm has some of them without power again.

Because even though I’ve lived in Colorado, California, South Dakota, California (again), and Texas, at heart I am, and always will be, a Jersey Girl, and Monmouth County will always be my truest home.

After the storm, I went out to Twitter and Instagram and Facebook, searching for images of the places I knew best, the places I loved, and the entry sign at the top of this post is just one of the images I found. It led me to the National Park Service’s Facebook Page for the Sandy Hook unit of Gateway Park Service (Sandy Hook, NJ; Jamaica Bay & Staten Island, NY) and there, I found images of Sandy Hook and Fort Hancock post-Hurricane Sandy.

The beaches are trashed. The parking lots are in disarray. The beach pavillions took serious damage. But the lighthouse still stands, the old houses of Officer’s Row are still there, the Coast Guard dock survived, and even though they’re technically off-limits and covered in poison ivy, future kids will still play in the old bunkers.

Sandy Hook Lives.
And New Jersey is small, but strong.