Whatever you do, DON'T PULL THE PLUG!

    “I need a vacation, just a few days to do nothing but unwind, unplug and relax.” I looked out the window at the three feet of snow that dropped down from the heavens the night before, and sighed. My friend, who was on the other end of the phone and three thousand miles away in a world where The earth shakes at times, but the sun almost always shines, chortled.

                

     “Relax and unwind?  I’d like to see that. I just don’t know if you can.” she said matter-of-factly.  Before I could think about what she said or respond, the conversation floated to another topic and then another, as our long distance catch-up calls often do.

Later that evening, I thought about what she said and felt a bit hurt, and truthfully more than a bit upset. What did she mean by that?  Of course I can unwind and relax. Didn't I spend many, many, sometimes way too many hours lounging by the beach and the pool in Malibu and Santa Monica? Doing nothing for hours on end but, as my mother would say, contemplating my navel?

Alright, to be completely honest, those Santa Monica/Malibu days happened way back in the mid to late 90’s, before I owned a smart phone. Hell, I didn't even own a dumb phone and Facebook was only a Nano twinkle in a prepubescent’s eye.

Oh oh--have I become that person? You know the one I mean. The one who can never let the phone go unanswered lest a business deal be forever lost?  Or the one with the nagging itch that can’t be scratched unless they catch every single text, post or tweet that’s hit into cyber left field? Am I destined to join the growing throngs of the virtual community, social media twelve-step program?

Shamefully, I must say it sure as shit looks that way. So that being said, today I will set a goal. End of the first week of July I am planning a bucolic trip to Maine with my dear left coast pal. On that trip I will unplug. I won’t take my computer on the trip (It’s a little warm in here, did someone turn off the A/C?) My voice mail will inform people not to leave a message unless their hair is on fire (I’m sweating profusely now) and I will have an "away on vacation” automatic email message response (the room is spinning) AND I forbid myself to text, tweet or post (make way, I’m hitting the floor. . . CRASH).

Now of course a person cannot quit cold turkey like that. There can be some serious withdrawal symptoms.  I can see myself on vacation, breathlessly climbing the craggy cliffs overlooking the Atlantic, all the while wondering what Liza’s Panini-of-the day had been or if I missed the cutest dog/baby photo ever posted in the history of time!  It may cause me to take a misstep and fall hundreds of feet into the watery abyss, never to be heard from again.

So that being said, I will slowly disentangle myself from the social media vortex. Right here, right now!  In a few moments, I will grab my towel and walk out to the pool. I’ll leave my Droid Incredible behind! Just in case I become weak and run back into the house to fetch the phone, leaving chlorine puddles everywhere, I’ll lock it away and hide the key. Even I won’t be able to find it.

You know, on second thought, while I'm swimming, maybe I’ll just leave the phone by the table next to the lounge chair.   Baby steps, people. Baby steps!    lol <3 <3



www.alisoncaiola.com
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Alison Caiola is the author of The Lily Lockwood Series:
The Seeds of a Daisy( now available in paperback and download on amazon, barnesandnoble.com and iTunes

A Gift From Beyond

Today marks the anniversary of my mother's death. Ten years. Strange they call it anniversary, since that word is usually associate with celebrating a milestone event. This isn't one of those--no celebrating going on here.

 March 2, 2005 I lost my mother who was the gorilla-strength glue that held the family together.  She was also my best friend and I, hers.   The officiant who presided over the funeral said that every family member he spoke to said the same thing; that she was their best friend and they were hers. Can you imagine having that type of effect on your loved ones? She was a special woman. We were  lucky to have her.

The last weeks of her life she was on the hospice floor of St Charles Hospital in Port Jefferson. They were wonderful, patient and kind and even allowed me to sleep in the bed next to her. We had the opportunity, those long days and nights, to say everything that needed to be said.  Truth be told, we always spoke and had a free-flowing non-stop communication that started decades before.  Even though we lived 3000 miles apart, much of those last decades we managed to speak every day. We shared our daily lives during long distance phone calls and eventually emails, when she got up to computer-savvy speed.  No matter where I was in the world, if I was experiencing something touching, beautiful or heartbreaking I would call her and share. 

So during the last few days that she was conscious, we held hands, watched our favorite TV shows and talked non-stop. It was during one of those hand-holding conversations, she looked at me and thanked me for being there for her. She went on to say "I didn't know a person could love another person like this." 

After she passed away, that sentence was a warm comforting blanket that I wrapped around myself to attempt to ward off the empty, chilling effects of grief.

One month and one day later was my birthday. It was one of those BIG  birthdays that people usually, either go to many lengths to forget and refuse to acknowledge, or over-celebrate  in an effort to anesthetize themselves against the harsh reality.  I was not up to celebrating, as a matter of fact I couldn't imagine ever having a birthday that I wasn't the recipient of  a birthday song sung by my mom in her slightly off-key, gravelly  voice. 

That morning I received an email from someone asking where my mother was, since they had not heard from her in months. It seems that she had become sort of an email pen pal of this husband and wife whose young son Mikey had undergone heart surgery. Over the years, they communicated and even though they never met, they shared much of their lives. I wrote back to tell them that Mom and passed. I made sure to let them know that she cared for their family and over the years, kept me apprised of Mikey's recovery.

That night my sister and niece surprised me with a small birthday party and invited the immediate family.  Later on that evening, I returned home to find an email from Mikey's father telling me how sorry he was and how much they would all miss communicating with her. He attached a voice email message that my mother sent Mikey while he was in the hospital. With shaking hands I clicked the link (below) and heard:

https://www.dropbox.com/sh/zjz93y61xey02xj/sOetkEXh16?m

I wiped my eyes, convinced that my mother did not want my birthday to pass without hearing her voice.

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Alison Caiola, author

The Lily Lockwood Series: Book One The Seeds of a Daisy, Book Two:  The Silver Cord( published  March 2015) 

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In My Life I Love You More. . .

I was walking up the stairs outside the student center, when I first saw Gil. It was only two weeks into my college career and already I felt pretty confident.  All the nervous energy that I brought with me dissipated and with one of my best friends from high school by my side, I felt braver than I might have, had I been flying solo.

He was on the top step leaning against the railing.  From his vantage point, he could easily watch the throngs of students, like industrious ants, rushing in and out of the surrounding buildings. His father’s Filipino heritage was more dominant than his mother’s English background and the result was striking and exotic good looks. His layered, shoulder length brown hair added a whisper of a rock and roll edge.

He had a large heart embroidered on the front of his bell bottom jeans. Without hesitation I said the first thing that came to mind,  "Hey that’s a cool heart.” My own heart skipped a beat when he gave me possibly the warmest smile, and revealed the straightest, whitest teeth I had ever seen. He was easy to talk to and before I knew it, I was handing him my phone number and making a date for the following Saturday night.

When Saturday came around, after a flurry of beautifying activity, I waited for his car to pull up. Seven o’clock came and went with no Gil in sight. By seven twenty, I grabbed my keys and got into my car to leave. I recently made myself a promise never to sit and wait for anyone.

The last three years of high school I was head over heels in love with an older boy.  Unfortunately, six month into our relationship, his number was picked in the last lottery draft of the Vietnam War. Before we knew it, Uncle Sam scooped him up and stationed him four thousand miles away in Germany.

Thankfully, he did not see any action, but the three years we spent apart were emotionally charged with a cycle of joyful reunions followed by tearful goodbyes.  Letters flew across the globe on a daily basis and at least three times a week the phone would ring at 6AM.  From a deep sleep, I would jump out of bed, bolt down two flights of stairs and answer it before the third ring. I missed out on most of my high school social milestones because he was away. I didn’t go to any event geared toward couples.  I missed dances and my prom.  I felt that it was worth it, because after the wait was over, we would be together forever. We planned to marry, move to Oregon where he would  become a Park Ranger and I a writer.

I was ecstatic when he managed to get a leave from the army, fly home to surprise me for my graduation.  When the leave was over and he was getting ready to return, he dropped a bomb. He had met a German girl and they started dating the month before.  My high school was over and so was my relationship. I missed out on so much and vowed from that moment on,  never to wait for anyone again.

Gil’s face was one of complete shock when he turned the corner and saw me driving away.  After he explained that he was stuck in traffic, I parked my car and we went on our first date.  He would never be late again.  That night, like so many nights to come, we sat on the beach and he played his guitar and sang to me.  He had the sweetest voice and could play as deftly as Jose Feliciano.  Sometimes he would sing his original songs, other nights he would give me a personal concert under the stars with tunes from The Beatles, Eric Clapton, James Taylor and Cat Stevens.  Hook, line and sinker I was in, and in love!

One day I was set to make a presentation in my Communications class about relationships.  Even though it was only a couple of hours away, I didn’t have a clue how to start it. He told me not to worry, he’d figure it out.  He had a math test at the same time as my class. He ditched it and a couple of hours later, Gil sitting cross-legged on a desk in front of the class, played guitar and sang the Beatles song,  In My Life  To this day whenever I hear There are places I remember all my life, it’s always Gil’s voice I hear.

A few months later, a well-known manager in the music world heard Gil's band and invited us to his home to talk about possibly representing them.  His best friend from childhood Joe, also a band member, Joe’s girlfriend Cathy, Gil and I sat in his living room in awe listening to his stories of all the famous groups he had plucked out of obscurity and catapulted into stardom.  He told the guys that he was going to shop their songs around and would let them know what the next step would be. We left with our heads spinning and our feet never touching the ground.

Two days later, Gil called to tell me that he had great news to share. In the time it took for him to drive over, I planned our rock star future. When he arrived, he was flushed with excitement.  I made him sit down and take a few deep breaths.  He finally calmed down enough to tell me that Joe had decided to join the Marines and since he and Joe were inseparable, he enlisted too.   

I couldn’t believe my ears. Who in their right mind, only four years after The Kent State Massacre and six months after Nixon resigned would ENLIST?  It was unheard of!  My last boyfriend didn’t have a choice, he was drafted-- but Gil had volunteered to leave me.

Thoughts of putting the next four years on hold while I waited for him to come home and the thousands of letters that had to be written to maintain the relationship as well as the heartbreaking loneliness that I would surely experience in his absence, did not allow me to hear him out  I didn’t give him a chance to explain, I just couldn’t.  I told him if leaving me was so easy, he could just leave then and there. Before I closed the door, I told him not to contact me again.

The next few months, I threw myself into schoolwork, friends, boys anything that would anesthetize the pain of my broken heart.  When Gil came back to town on his first leave, he begged me to meet him for just one cup of coffee.  I sat opposite him in the coffee shop. I couldn’t get past his crew cut or shiny dress uniform to look into his eyes or hear his words of apology and love.

Years later, I realized that what I thought would happen, did not. I was convinced that there was a world of guys like Gil out there for me.  I was wrong.   So, in the pre Google, post-divorce days, I searched for him.  Nothing ever came up.  Every few months from the mid-nineties on, I tried.

A dear friend gave me a book the talented author, Amy Ferris, wrote entitled Marrying George Clooney-Musings from a Midlife Crisis. In it she talks about having insomnia and googling old boyfriends in the middle of the night.  I told no one  for years I did just that, always searching for Gil.  After reading the book, I decided to give it another shot.

On April 30^th after the umpteenth time, I googled him again. THERE WAS A HIT! My heart raced and my hands trembled in anticipation as I clicked on the link that lead to the site,

Gil, who was born on October 13, 1953, passed away April 18^th only twelve days before. The obituary spoke of his talent,kindness and generous heart.  Things I knew so many years ago. . .

There are places I'll remember

All my life, though some have changed
Some forever, not for better
But of all these friends and lovers
There is no one compares with you
And these memories lose their meaning
When I think of love as something new
In my life, I love you more

###

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www.alisoncaiola.com
@AlisonMCaiola
www.facebook.com.alisoncaiolaauthor
Alison is the award-winning author of The Lily Lockwood Series: The Seeds of a Daisy and soon to be published The Silver Cord.

The Seeds of a Daisy is available paperback and digital download: Amazon, barnesandnoble.com and iTunes