Letters and The Little Things

Think about all of the letters you have received and given in your life, that includes cards and notes too. The list is probably similar among all of us. All of the cards for birthdays and celebrations, notes from Mom and Dad in our lunchboxes, and all the letters from friends and family that express their love for us. Phyllis Theroux has been known for saying that “to send a letter is a good way to go somewhere without moving anything but your heart.” For some odd reason, letters have impactful significance, one that is really hard to pinpoint. Some people prefer letters above all the hugs and kisses for different reasons, maybe because physically having the letter is most touching or because you can keep it forever. Yet, for me, I admire them for the devotion it takes to write them. Time is captured in a letter, no matter how long or short it is, writing takes the most amount of time than any other form of expression like hugging or kissing (and even the more private stuff sometimes). Letters collect emotion and in some weird way, make you feel the presence of someone you care about more than any other way possible.

This past week I was cleaning some things up in my room and a pile of papers fell and as I picked them up I found a hand-written letter from none other than, Mema. The mother of the famous O’Keefe sisters, wife to the amazing Papa Jerry, and a grandmother to 13 diverse grandchildren, Mema is quite the matriarch. Without disposing all of the words she wrote me, she simply expressed how much she missed me and closed with, “Sorry, I don’t even have a dollar.” I could not help but smile at the letter which I received about a year ago today and recognize how much Mema was embodied simply through her gracious and blunt writing. Her letter is a small symbol of what our family is grounded in, frank and unconditional love that never wavers. That is the beauty of love, no matter the disease that affects our body or the aging that makes our mind and memory weaker, love remains timeless. It is in letters that we witness this love reach beyond the paper—the words seem to whimsically bring love to life. Thanks for that, Mema.

For that little moment, I was encouraged to write to someone else I cared about, like a domino effect of words. I sat and wrote a letter to a friend that I had not taken the time to write to in a while. It was simple and touching, experiencing a little moment and then creating another one to pass on. It is a fulfilling familiarity when we can take a moment to read about how others observe and care for us and to then take the time to devote your thoughts to someone else. The culmination of letters is representative of how much we mean to someone and that is the most comforting testament of all. Letters are timeless because they convey how much one’s presence in life, their influence, and their story is enduring to this day. We piss ourselves at old yearbook passages that bring to life the crudeness and hilarity of some of our greatest friends, tear up at old cards that smell of grandmother’s clothes, and reference letters we wrote ourselves in the event that we forget our own styles of writing and need to refresh our minds.

Words on paper are delicate and should always be handled with care. As I have said, they remind us how much certain people mean to us and how much we mean to them. Yet, underneath the surface, letters and notes are little reminders of who we are and how we have changed. I look back at old valentines I wrote in 4^th grade, letters of apology to Dad when I got him mad, and the letters I still write today to keep relationships thriving. One of the greatest pieces of advice I ever heard was that when you are feeling the lowest, read an old letter someone wrote you or that you wrote yourself. The emotions we convey in those letters stop us from doubting ourselves in those bad times, re-instill us with trinkets of joy, and show us our worth. For that reason, never think you need to replicate someone else’s life because, as seen in many of our personal letters, many people try to emulate you. We are our own exceptionally different people and letters put that special uniqueness on paper. Letters would be fairly boring if the same person wrote them. So, highlight your individualism in those letters you write and smile at other people’s recognition of it in their letters to you. Phyllis Theroux, yes, our hearts are moved in letters but we should always remember that the heart is never the same one. Our hearts, memories, and attitudes are left behind in those letters as things to remember us by, even when we’re gone.

I recommend we make sure to be as off-beat, kind, funny, and loving in those letters as we can be. Maybe I should write the young and colorful Mema back, give her a little piece of me while I am away. Except, I do not think I’ll have a dollar either. I mean hey, I am the one in college here so Mema better provide some good excuses. I hope you enjoy re-reading some of those special letters and if you find an old dollar, I take donations. Here is to a better tomorrow.

-M

            

Comfort and The Little Things

We hold hands, hug after years of not seeing each other, and camp out during our favorite movies. There is no greater feeling than being comforted whether in need of it or not, recognition and a bond with another person is always welcomed. Unfortunately, many of us take our comfort for granted whether it is because we fail to identify the blessings we have or because we always desire more. Either way, comfort is still relevant and present in our lives; it comes from the people who love us and from the material pieces of our lives that may seem meaningless to others. After a very colorful and snowy week, I recognized how much love is comforting (Happy V-Day right? No, Happy Singles Awareness Day), how food (chocolate) is comforting, and how our friends are comforting.

It seems that the Blizzard of 1978 re-lived this past weekend in what is now being known as his brother, the Blizzard of 2013, or as we college kids like to call it, One of the Best Weekends Ever. On Thursday night after participating in the cheering in Lower Dining Hall with a friend at the news of the snow day, I returned to spend some time with friends. We laughed, yelled, and danced (not fairly well if I do say so myself). Late in the night, one of my great friends asked if I wanted to go out and have a cigar in celebration with him for the forthcoming blizzard. Instantly, I pictured myself growing up when my father would ask me if I wanted to take a “small puff at the cigar” which consequently turned into a whooping cough attack. Therefore, I was a little hesitant because I am certainly no expert on smoking cigars considering the small amount of times I have done it but I figured, Hell, when will you ever get to enjoy a nice stogie on the eve of one of the greatest storms to hit New England? So I did it, I smoked a nice, classic cigar with my roommates under a starry night’s sky on the crisp eve of the Blizzard of 2013. Some of the coughs responsively came back during a few puffs but I like to believe it was still an improvement.

We have all heard it, “break your comfort zone.” Sometimes it is easier said than done and then in some unique cases, it’s done easier than said (hopefully that doesn’t happen too often). Either way, I see how painless it is to live a life of just comfort, simplicity, and routine. Yet, after smoking the celebratory cigar with my roommate, I realized that at one point I used to like smoking a cigar once in awhile despite whether or not I was good at it. We only discover what makes us comfortable by breaking our old standards of comfort. Normally, I probably would have had a nice dinner, studied, maybe had a cup of tea, and tried to get some sleep on a Thursday night. It was not until I went out at 2 in the morning, in the freezing cold, and smoked a cigar did I realize how much fun I could actually have. Hey, it makes for a fun story and a good memory. After the adventure outside, my friends and I came back to our apartment and simply talked—talked about life, family, anything really. It was an uncomfortable night to say the least; I stayed out despite my internal clock telling me otherwise, opened up about things, and had a nice cigar and conversation all in the midst of it.

 

Break your comfort zone, expand your horizons, and cherish the memories that it makes. We hear the greatest stories come from those put in the most uncomfortable, dire, and unappealing of situations. A woman who hit on her future husband’s friend forcefully gives into this short, Italian man who will not surrender until he gets a dance. A young boy tries his very first onion on a hamburger because his mother says the cook does not allow you to take the ingredient off. A college kid has a snowball fight with his friends even though he hates the cold. So what happens? A woman falls in love with her husband and the two start a family together, the young boy realizes he loves onions, and the college kid becomes amazed by snow. We break our comfort zones so as to form new zones of comfort and new zones of routine. Comfort changes and consequently so does our life’s path, our decisions, and our personalities. Staying comfortable may hurt you. Correction, it will hurt you. If we sit on one choice, one hardship, one lifestyle then life itself passes us by. Do not let it do so. So, I encourage you to be comfortable when you can but also be uncomfortable whenever you can too (as long as it is safe). You never know what the experience might bring you. However, there will still always be some universal forms of comfort that never change like hugs, kisses, and sleep. Do not devalue those. Comfort is a magical thing, it keeps us bonded through its’ warmth but also when it becomes disconnected. Welcome both sides to the argument and never fear trying new things that may seem uncomfortable. They become those little moments that people love to hear about at the dinner table. Like I said, you will still sleep comfortably at night but if that becomes an issue, try a new mattress. Hey, even that choice breaks the old mold. Stay comfortable and uncomfortable my friends. Here is to a better tomorrow.

-M

Women and The Little Things

Instead of getting to play basketball with brothers, I watched the Princess Diaries, rather than getting to play catch with my Dad, he and I had to learn how to cook, and instead of yelling I endured more crying. Women are unique, abstract, and difficult human beings, I can proudly say that I believe in that, considering my house is primarily dominated by women (Sorry, Dad but you know the feeling). As complex and crazy as they can be, women are very near and dear to my heart. I can gladly acknowledge the effects my mother, my sisters, my girlfriends, and even my Dad had on me in the mix of all of this. He and I have endured and prevailed as we would say, but in the end, I like to believe that we’re greater guys because of it. After all, Mark Twain wondered, “what would men be without women? Scarce, sir…mighty scarce.”

This past weekend, I was lucky enough to get a visit from my mother and one of my sisters. After leaving Tori on campus, I got to spend some much-needed time with the famous and frank KO’K. On Saturday morning while sitting outside of the hotel on a bench, minding our own business, both of us were interrupted by a young woman screaming at her husband outside of their car. She was running frantically around the car in circles and cried, “Damn it! You moron! I told you to grab the breast-pump off the chair. I knew it; I knew I left the breast-pump on that ugly beige chair in the corner of the room! And now, I got my sister calling me crying her head off.” And then moments later, “Oh wait, I got it, put it on the front seat. So, lets move it and get your ass in the car!” After they drove away, my mother and I could not help but look at each other—pause—and incessantly laugh. To all the other families walking by us to their cars--I apologize. To say that there were many characters that day in the parking lot would be an understatement.

Once the laughing had settled, I could not help but think about that woman and her husband simply because it reminded me of the dynamic of my own family. Karen yells at Skip, he huffs and puffs, kids are crying in the backseat, phones are going off and the list goes on. It was a moment that allowed old ones to come flooding back. In my last post I said that memories are like a diary that never stays closed. I second that. But most importantly, it made me turn my head toward my own mother as she laughed and her eyes watered, and recognize her for who she is. Of course, she is capable of succumbing to hysteria and anxiety, but KO’K is quite the woman--one that never ceases loving unconditionally nor change who she is at heart. She is her own perfectly complex person, and she does not give a damn what anyone else thinks of it.

I shared a small, funny moment of observation that soon turned into a little moment between a mother and her son. I can happily say that I have an interesting family dynamic. I was raised by and with compassionate, sensitive women and a simple, gracious father. Does it create chaos? Absolutely. Do I like the chaos? Even more so. My sisters, my friends, my aunts, my grandmothers, and my mother are beautiful people. After watching that woman and her husband in the parking lot, I recognized the impact women have on our lives. They cheer for us in stands, praise us if we do well on something, cry for us when times go bad, but love us no matter the circumstance. They don't stand behind us, but beside us. Women are mysterious creatures and we cannot know everything they do, especially when it comes to our mothers. But what we do know we can then at least find comfort in. Mom (KO’K), you are doing great, even more than great, and I love you every second for it. Mark Twain, I have no arguments for you. Rather, all I can do is think of what my Dad says, “women—can’t live with them, can’t live without them.” That is the truth. So the next time you see your sister or a friend, give her a hug. The next time you see a girl yelling, know it is out of love always, even if she makes you cry. Embrace all those little moments and embrace a woman's love, there is nothing like it. Here is to a better tomorrow.

-M