Wandering and The Little Things

You know that really corny quote that says, "Sometimes it takes being lost to know exactly where you are"? Or something like that. It was on one of those education posters in your 3rd grade teacher's room or it occasionally appears under the new profile picture of a girl you graduated from high school with. And I know, half the time we say to ourselves, "Oh my god, how many times am I going to see that stupid quote? It isn't true". Well, I would like to say that if there was ever a time I was lost, it was these past two weeks in total.

There is a park in Madrid here called, El Parque Retiro, and might I say it probably was the most beautiful and cleanest one I had ever been to. I decided to work out for the day there in the park; I would run for a while and then stop and do some exercises. It was a simple and good idea in thought that is until one path led to another and another after that and then I was simply lost. And no, it wasn't the lost where you could just waltz up to a map and know exactly where to go after that because doing so didn't help either, trust me I tried. I was hot, thirsty, and had sweat covering so much of my clothes that the shade of color changed darker. And so I thought to myself, what do I do now? Why whatever any normal person would do when they are lost; wander.

So I did just that, I walked through the park until I could eventually find myself a way out. The funny thing about all of it was that I found being lost to somehow be a prime opportunity to maybe see things I never had before. To my surprise, I stumbled into a rose garden, watched couples row haphazardly through the lake, and I walked down the alley of Spanish stone statues. Now, though these new sites and visions of Spanish history were all new, somehow I found a lot of them speaking personally to me. Ruby red roses--a favorite of my late grandmother's, gushy romance in the park lake--something my sisters and I would quietly laugh at, and historic stone statues--pieces of Spain's past that my grandfather Burt would find unbelievable while my eyes fell out of their sockets.

Maybe what I thought about in my last post is slowly making itself present. Pieces of my life, trinkets of those I care about or visions of old memories are somehow quietly, and without me really noticing, trickling down into little details of my day-to-day experiences. I think it all seemed to come full circle during my weekend trip with friends to Barcelona. Well now, the change in language dialects and the occasional nudity on the beach was fairly different from America but it seemed that getting lost through the gothic streets of Barcelona opened up the opportunity to see commonality between the Spaniards and I.   
 

At one point, a group of us just decided to wander, hoping we would find the place we had been in search of. Along the way, I saw friends chat at local cafes while sipping on their cappuccinos, soon-to-be mothers and fathers picking out clothes for their child in Las Ramblas, and then there were little ones going to church with grandma and grandpa at the famous Barcelona Cathedral. You cannot help but think of yourself in those very situations--how simple life used to be and how simple it can be if you choose to look at it in a good way. My Dad told me once about how he used to hold clothes over my mother's stomach when she was pregnant with us. "I think it will fit," he used to say and then she would laugh at his cheesy words and comment, "Jesus, Skip. Sometimes I wonder." There were plenty of those interactions around me with young couples, both frustrated at the others' attitudes yet still so in love. It was refreshing to see ironically. I imagined my friends and I grabbing coffees at Starbucks or buying all the junk food we could before curling up to watch a movie. And then I saw a little bit of myself in the kid who was whining about having to go to church with his grandparents. I was just like him at that age and I am sure he will be seeing himself at my age now looking back and regretting all the trouble he used to cause, whether he meant it or not. 

I guess there is an answer to the riddle. What to do when you're lost? Simple; listen, observe, learn, and move on. Of course, I cannot observe so much so that I can change my past but I can learn about who I was and who I should be moving forward from all of this. I suppose I would like to change that quote from earlier, "Sometimes it takes getting lost to know exactly where you are and to know exactly where you need to go." When those trinkets and memories come flooding back in those moments when you are admiring your surroundings and people passing by, do not regret or wish you could have them back. Rather, resolve the problem with new directions--new paths to take so as to move forward toward a place where new memories are made, whether they are with those here or with the spirits of those who have left us. So the motto of the story: always carry a cellphone, a map, and an open sincerity toward yourself and others. Doing so will only make being lost that much more rewarding and humbling as we follow new, unknown paths in life. Here is to a better tomorrow.

-M 

Goodbyes and The Little Things

Think about the last time you said goodbye to someone or something. Do you remember? How easy was it? How hard was it? For the longest time I have been told of and experienced the harsh brutality that comes with having to say a goodbye. It's weird I suppose, the majority of the time we expect them to be hard in the moments leading up to it but it still never seems to make the moment any less harder or emotional. I think a lot of us can find truth in that statement.

A few days ago, I visited a place I said goodbye to a while ago, Brookfield High School. I was running and decided to take an old but still familiar path around the fields. I crashed the football team's practice and was welcomed back on the old field with open arms and lots of catching up. It was a short pit-stop to my final check point at the old equipment shed, still splashed with old graffiti of young high schoolers and still heavy with a lot of character--character that brought back many memories. I did a few exercises up and down the hill and when I turned to walk around the front of the shed, a familiar shade of blue caught the corner of my eye.

It was a blue Brookfield football practice jersey simply coating the top of the fence as the gate doors brushed up against it. I could not help but remember the days I wore the Brookfield blue before I said goodbye to it. But, it was not until I looked closer at the jersey did I notice something even closer to my heart. Written on the jersey was the number, 51. It was almost as if the jersey was sitting there and watching, waiting for me to waltz by it. And for some inexplicable reason, I found it and it found me. For those who may not know, the number 51 has been a symbol to the Consalvo family for generations. It started as a number on an address and evolved into a football jersey number that has now become our common lucky number in the family. Some of us like to look at it like a guardian in one sense or another.

Once I saw the 51 on the jersey it was almost as if a picture-perfect moment transpired. I smiled at the site of it and the meaning it still has, just as I did so, the sun faded down onto my face. I turned to glimpse back at the football team then once more at the jersey. And as I stepped to walk away, the drum-line instantly picked up to cap off a wondrous little moment I shared with myself.

When we say goodbye to someone or something, depending on the circumstance, we think it is a definite one--a permanent one. But to our dismay and surprise, good people and good things never really seem to stay gone. I thought I said goodbye to BHS, to Brookfield, to Pop, and to 51. But the high school's hallowed halls still feel dense with countless memories, Pop's cologne can infuse the air once in a while, and the number 51 will appear when I least expect it but I most need it. Maybe it's a sort of phenomenon or disillusion, but it keeps me balanced and sane so maybe something is working.

So there is a beauty to be found in saying goodbye I suppose, as hard as I take it though sometimes. There tend to be little pieces, visions, trinkets of those that we say goodbye to that find their way back into our lives at sometimes the most surprising but most necessary moments. I said goodbye to my family before leaving for Spain, as hard as it was. Watching Mom get choked up and Dad roll his eyes obviously made me immediately miss them. But I guess it is like I said, maybe there will be little pieces or trinkets of life I see along the way around the world that brings those special people and things right back to me. It is the kind of thing that makes you smile humbly walking down a sidewalk or around a street corner. It may be a mother gently waving her fingers over her sleeping son's arms or a father teaching his son how to smoke a cigar blind to the fact that the kid is actually choking. In any facet, I find comfort in the belief that all I love and care about is with me in every step I take in life. Sometimes the thought is the only thing to keep us happy and grateful. So really, I guess I don't believe in goodbyes, rather, I anticipate the, "Hello, again." Here is to a better tomorrow.

-M

Heroes and The Little Things

Many people have said it and many people have heard it; “heroes are the ordinary people who make themselves extraordinary.” It is simple, yes, but also so completely true that it is hard to find a fault in such a belief. I have grown up under the guidance of people I still view as heroes simply because I think they are extraordinary. For a lot of us, our parents are our heroes. Students are so inspired by their teachers and professors that they too become educators in adulthood. Meanwhile, our youthful innocence is congested with hopeless dreams of flying like Superman or saving civilians like Batman. No matter your age, heroes are unquestionably a part of our lives.

I have worked as a camp counselor for quite some time over my summer vacations and the stories I can recollect are infinite. But, this summer was different. Though on the surface I probably appeared to be as goofy as I usually was or exhausted from the constant beatings campers inflict on my body, I was secretly admiring one camper in particular. John C. is a rising 2^nd grader about to experience life in a new school and feels just as much anxiety and excitement that comes with a change in environment as any other normal kid. He is passionate about math and loves the color green. John is also autistic and so, is very special. With his condition come obsessive behaviors over ideas, beliefs, or things. Interestingly, he loves toilets and all things related to plumbing and also Abraham Lincoln and anything associated with his name.

During all of my weeks at camp I was lucky to meet many new, young faces full of vivacious spirits but John was so memorable for too many great reasons. Though autistic, he is brilliant and extremely bright. Even if he tended to abruptly interrupt your conversations or reading time, he was at least always doing so with a contagious happy attitude. It was never easy to be strict or upset with him as biased as that may make me sound. During our weekly trip to the beach in Week 4 I was instructing the campers to be quiet as we listened to the rules. Initially, it was hard to get John to stop interrupting that is until I learned to compromise.

As I said earlier, John loves toilets and all things associated with them. Therefore, he is infatuated with drains. As he started to get overly excited and disruptive while listening to the beach rules, I calmly sat next to him and placed my hands over his frantic arms that he incessantly swings when energized and said, “I will make you a promise.” He quickly asked, “WHAT?” to which I said, “I will allow you to show me a drain near the beach if you promise me that you will stay quiet.” His smile warmly spread from ear-to-ear and he graciously looked up at me and whispered, “You know Matthew, you are good. You are great.” He then gently patted his arm over my shoulder and we turned to listen.

Okay sure, maybe a hero is someone who is not ordinary but extraordinary. But, are the qualities or actions that make those heroes extraordinary distinct? Do you have to save someone’s life? Does a hero have to be widely recognized? I like to think not to all the above. A hero can be someone who compromises when situations can be difficult and rewards a child with something he so dearly loves. Then again, a hero can be someone who smiles as much as they can at their mentors and is always willing to be a friend to anyone.

When John smiled and put his arm up around me, for the first time I think I saw my cousin, Anne. Most importantly, I think I understood her relationship with Dylan. I saw care and generosity in the purest of forms. She was a hero to him and he was a hero to her in both life and death. What Anne did was heroic that day but I think the both of them were each other’s idols long before that. A hero could emerge through a smile, a laugh, or even a bedtime story. You have your heroes who you admire but I want you to recognize that you may be a hero too. John, you taught me so much and I will never forget that heroic smile. Nor can I forget our trips to the drains and bathrooms in which you heroically taught me how to fix clogs. So, never forget to pass along a smile for it is the little things and the little moments that create our heroes. Here is to a better tomorrow.

-M 

Tragedies and The Little Things

 

September 11, 2001. December 14, 2012. April 15, 2013, April 19, 2013.

There are dates that define us, days we will never be able to erase. I was just 8 years old when the attacks on the World Trade Towers occurred. Mr. Huber was checking our math sheets over with his hand lying on the side of his hip and the intercom made the announcement. I rode the bus home without any idea of what I was about to see at the house. My parents in disbelief, on their knees in the living room, the water was boiling over the pot on the stove and every television had on CNN in each room with people crying on the streets of New York City. Those images are stained forever on my mind.

I had just turned in my final for a class on Blackboard and put on my Nautica Jeans fleece to go to my meeting with the Resident Director and then I got the text from Deanna. 27 people dead in Sandy Hook, including children. I ran back to my room immediately, my roommate jumped off of the couch at the same time after seeing it on his computer. The television went on and I fell to my knees. Mom told me about Anne the next day. I fell to my knees again. I guess now I understand how my parents felt when I saw them in the same position just 11 years earlier.

I had finished talking with my friend, Chris, he was pacing our other friend, Dan, in the Boston Marathon. He asked if I was ready, if I was coming. I hesitated to decide and ultimately, chose to let him go alone with him. I would cheer them on as they ran by. I watched many of my closest friends go by, in such joy and excitement to see the crowds cheering them on. It made you believe in the good in all of us when you saw it. I stood with my friend, Deirdre, as she waited for her sister and then she got a text. Explosions at the finish line. People ran, started crying, police yelling for us to get inside. My closest friends were there, passing that finish line. All I could do was get away.

They locked us in on that Friday morning, my roommates and I and the rest of the community were wondering how much more of this we could take. Scared was the only way you could describe the feelings that day. There was nothing more to do or feel, all we could do was wait.

Tragedies, people say, are always going to be a part of life. Whether you lose your grandmother, have your leg amputated, or are diagnosed with Cancer, tragedy can strike at the smallest and largest of magnitudes. The funny thing about tragedy is that we tend to remember so much more about it than the other events we experience each day. It is more defining; it consequently creates change in an individual, community, or nation that can never be undone. Because we understand that concept we are scared to imagine life after a tragedy. We can become feeble and believe that there is no way to operate and carry on beyond the scope of what has happened. Change can be good, yes, but in some cases in life, it can be unimaginable.

After recounting everything that has happened this week I am still wondering what it is that we take from all of it? Do we suck it up and embrace the change? Or do we hold on to the, “what could have been”? The only thing I have found solace in is that each of us who have endured tragedy remember all the little things prior to the incident and those immediately after it. I remember every word of my conversation with Chris when I was deciding to run or not. I watched sisters hold their composure to keep the other one stable as she was running. My roommate and I grabbed hands as we turned to each other the morning of April 19^th.

Yet, it is not good just to remember all of these little things and moments because you will continually associate them with the horror that you experienced on that day. What we have to do is make something of those little things that unites communities and people to their shared humanity. I want to remember so many new little moments at next year’s marathon. We’ll witness more parents cheering on the runners as they try to keep all their kids in line and not crying. Our law enforcement, our heroes will protect the streets more cautiously next year but nothing will stop them from cheering either. Friends will take more obnoxious pictures that will be laughed at in future years and runners will smile even bigger as they wave to their loved ones. Maybe I’ll run it next year, make a little thought into a larger reality.

The little things do indeed matter; we remember them in our greatest triumphs but also significantly, in our greatest times of loss and tragedy. But we can carry on; we owe those who lost their lives in such horrible tragedies at least that. Work as hard as you can because that is what everyone was doing in the World Trade Centers that day, learn as much as you can at school because that is what those children loved to do at Sandy Hook, and cheer as loud as you can for your friends and family always, that is what Martin, Lu, Krystle, and Sean did on Marathon Monday. Turn little things into resilient ones that honor both the past and acknowledge the present. In the end, the little things are actually the greatest. In the end, the little things will make for that better tomorrow. So, here’s to it.

-M

Questions and The Little Things

James Thurber once said that it was “always better to know some of the questions than to know all of the answers.” Yet, as humans we like to know all of the answers. I personally will attest to the fact that I get scared not having all of the answers or my life laid out right in front of me. Then again, I wonder what good would that be? Would life be worth living then? So just to get more complicated, all I did was answer my anxieties over not having the answers with even more questions. However, there is always beauty to be found in our inability to have all of the answers. One thing is for certain; if we can ask the questions we are inevitably amused and intrigued by the stories that come out of other people’s answers.

I know I have talked about Mema before and luckily for me, I got to spend some time with her over Easter holiday. While she shuffled the deck of her cards and started to lay them out to play solitaire, I looked at her and just started asking her questions. When did you and Papa get married? Do you remember the day I was born? What was your favorite childhood memory? The list went on but what I was noticing was that Mema did not have the answers either. Yet, this is not because she simply did not know but because her mind was getting weaker and her memory is beginning to fade. When she got frustrated with me asking her questions, something inside of me clicked.

We worry so much about not having the answers about our careers, our kids, or love and other things so much so that we forget the answers to questions we already do know. We can answer people about how many friends we have, how many camping trips we took, and that time when Dad cried watching Titanic (do not let him deny it). We are creatures of worry and constant insecurities about the answers to questions that we do not know. But, why is it so hard to find comfort in the life’s worth of answers to other questions that we already have?

Mema is now having trouble maintaining those old answers and hell, she still has questions herself too about old age and death. But, now she is finding herself with just questions and losing touch with all of her answers. It can be scary to see, especially as a grandchild. After talking with Mema, I took a longer drive home to go past the places where I found a lot of answers in life thus far. I visited my house on Cherokee Drive where I gained answers on adolescence, the high school where I found the answers in education, and I later hung out with my dog whose loyalty gives the reasoning to why our dogs are our best friends.

All I can say is that I definitely agree with Mr. Thurber, it is good to have some questions than to know all of the answers. Embrace the answers as they come, and know that eventually they will even if they are not in your favor. More importantly, when you do get the answers from experiences and memories, make sure you hold them close always. We may loose touch with them some day and then be left with nothing but questions as we age. Luckily, Mema knows the answers to some of my questions still; it just takes time to squeeze them out of her even if she claims she does not remember. Plus, she still knows how to give a good answer, with a lot of humor and frankness. I am glad we all learned that from her. Recognize that those questions do exist and let the answers to them come as they may but most significantly, share all the answers about your life that you already have. Your answers and stories may solve someone else’s questions. Treasure the little things and keep questioning. Here is to a better tomorrow.

-M

Smiles and The Little Things

            

The American Dream is an ideal many, if not all of us, try to achieve and maintain. Though, as time has gone on our perception of what the American Dream actually is has changed dramatically and is diverse in many opinions. One thing that many, even myself, have included in the equation is money—security. We fear failure of not achieving our goals or settling and sometimes even fear we won’t make as much money as the person next to us or in the Range Rover driving by us. I cannot exclude myself from the perception or the desire. A lot of the time, we can all get caught up in the idea of what we hope our life can be, especially when we think we see others living it right in front of us. What is most important to recognize is that sometimes people can admire you too.

Throughout the past few weeks I have made countless late night trips to the dining hall whether it is for a muffin or tea. No matter the circumstance, I am always greeted by one face in particular, Ana. She is a small, quiet, humble woman who works in the dining hall collecting and distributing silverware for the students. Many of us, including me for a while, take for granted those unique individuals who set our dining tables, make our food, and swipe our cards as we drunkenly spill all over the cash registers on weekends. From all of us, I would like to apologize for the moments when we made asses out of ourselves or annoyed you all to your inner core. But especially, I would like to acknowledge Ana who, for some particular reason, never loses her gentle smile, tenderness, and warm spirit, even when a lot of us will overlook her or knock the silverware everywhere. Today, when I saw you, Ana, I waved and said, “hello,” to which you quietly smiled back and said, “thank you.” Sure, it seems generic and a manner in which a lot of our casual conversations start but Ana is very different.

It is hard to explain why it is that some people have the capability to evoke your deepest emotions or warm our hearts but we can at least recognize that such things happen. Maybe they do not need explanations; instead, we can just relish those tender moments with the individuals and near-strangers that personify our shared humanity. More importantly, we can relish the individuals who act with humility and grace; qualities that are abundantly displayed on a daily basis. Our dining halls—actually, our lives would seem quite empty if you were to not be in them anymore, Ana. It is individuals like these who may have one of the most simple or complicated lives but never fail to operate and interact with a smile and generosity in their spirit.

Looking at Ana and her gentle smile everyday makes me, and hopefully others, reevaluate the narrow-mindedness we tend to approach our perceptions of life with. Like I said before, we may admire certain material things, money, or security but people like Ana may admire our qualities and lifestyles too. Perception and aspiration are two-way streets in our world, and maybe it is about time we recognize that. I find myself looking forward to seeing more individuals like Ana nowadays, seeing the people who embody the truest form of humility and grace. Sometimes it is not the glamour that completes us, the money, or even the comfortable bed. Rather, it is our shared connection that is the most rewarding of all. I value those little smiles and moments with you, Ana, and with all those small but significant people that make themselves present in my life. Those people, the hard-workers with the gentle souls, allow us to step out of the complexities of reality and our overwhelming desires and simply smile or start a conversation.

Take as many moments as you can to thank those individuals who seem insignificant because you never know whose day you may make. You may bring a tear to a small, older woman who places silverware, a laugh to the little boy working at a school where you volunteer, or a smile from the janitor who may not speak English but loves getting waves. Try something sincere to someone you admire and you may surprise yourself at the reactions you get back. Those are the greatest and most beautiful moments in life. Thanks Ana, I cannot help but see so many qualities of the closest people in my life emulated in you as well. You inspire me and I encourage all of you to embrace that humility too. Enjoy the little smiles and the little things. Here is to a better tomorrow.

-M 

Dogs and The Little Things

His name is, Bailey, and he is my best friend. Dogs, they are best friends to all of us, at least the majority of them. What I find most special about our friendly canines is that they are the best of friends because they never give you crap even for the poor choices you make. I can tell Bailey about something great that happened and he smiles and pants, then I can tell him something bad that happened and he still smiles and pants. They are the best listeners and not only do they attract our attention but we always capture their attention too.

When I got home this weekend I was immediately greeted by none other than my boy, Bailey. The most heartwarming part of my visit was getting to watch a movie with him and have him curl up at my side. He personifies the perfect protector, the loyal savior, and the gentle companion all in one furry mess.  It was not until I woke up at 2:33 in the morning to my legs numb and my dog spread wide across them had I realized that maybe we are a bit too comfortable with each other. Yet, the most eye-opening part of the week was walking into my living room this morning to see him eating the other half of my sandwich I had left on the table. What a guy.

As joyous as our moments are with them or no matter how pissed off they can make us, I can say that dogs are sometimes more human than we actually are. Think about it. They always seem to make us feel better about life, make us cry harder than The Notebook if they yelp, and annoy us the most when they grub at the edge of the dinner table. Dogs evoke our deepest emotions at the quickest rate and we can go from 0 to 100 just looking at their happy faces. Despite the feelings, I know that when I am in the company of my dog I am always intrigued and never want to leave his side. Bailey, you are truly a man’s best friend and I forgive you for eating my sandwich. Yet, I guess it makes sense considering I never give you scraps that often. I promise to work on it. Maybe all of us can work on it. What are a few crumbs any way? We treat ourselves enough, so treat your dog a little more too because they will still go for the sandwich anyway. Love your dogs always, because they will always love you back. Here is to a better tomorrow. 

-M