Oh Atlanta!

I know, I know. I am constantly going on and on about how much I LOVE this city, LOVE my place, LOVE my life.  It's probably a tad annoying, I bet.  Usually when I read someone talking about something this much I actually doubt them.  Like, if you really liked it that much, do you need to talk about it so much? Are you trying to convince yourself that you do?

In this case, it's so...er, not the case though.  And you folks who have known me over this past decade and a half know it.  For the rest, I'll explain.

I loved picking up and moving to Atlanta - 15 years ago next month, actually. Wow.  It's not that I disliked Wisconsin or my friends and family there.  It's not like I felt an overwhelming need to go someplace else. I bet I could have been happy there, too.  But when that chance came for me that seemingly lifetime ago, I remember also not hesitating to just GO.  That although I had nothing bad to say about Wisconsin, there just might be something else out there and, well. Why not?

I remember telling my Mom I was thinking about going, and thinking about it now, knowing the "thinking" part was really already done.  It was just five months after my Dad died and I had been spending a lot of time with Mom just in that my siblings all were at college or with their family hours away and my apartment was only 20 minutes down the road.  We went to one of those Greek restaurants: you know, the ones that have the most awesome open-faced roast beef sandwiches?  And I sat across the table from Mom and halfway through the meal told her I needed to talk to her about something serious and life-changing.  I don't think she had any idea what I was going to say.  I don't think she even knew I had already flown to Atlanta for an interview and had an offer.  How could she?  We were still dealing with Dad's passing too, afterall.  I remember feeling all grown up and confident on the outside but still a little kid on the inside, hoping what I was going to say would make her proud of me and needing her assurance that I was doing the right thing.  I would be moving almost a thousand miles away, afterall.  Without a partner, on my own.

My Mom listened to my confident, rational voice as I explained the opportunity that had been presented to me and why I felt I needed to take it.  Looking back now, I know she probably also heard my fear and nervousness behind the bravado.  When I finished talking, she put down her fork, looked at me and paused for a moment.  And then said one word.

"Go."

It was all I needed.

So I moved here -- big girl now! Big city!  But I'd always lived on the outskirts of the city.  When I first moved here, I had an "Atlanta" address but was a good 15 miles or so from the real city and closer to the suburbs.  I was very close to work and that helped.  I was told that people often get frustrated with Atlanta because of the traffic issues here.  Since I didn't have to deal with that, I never experienced that frustration and instead found it nice.  It was like back home, kinda. Only with better weather.   And I was fortunate enough to actually know people here before I moved: two other colleagues who got offers, too; and friends I had known through an internet group (and, yes, actually had already met in person a few times).  I was OK. I was happy.  I was learning my new home.

But as the months turned into years and I started to explore my city, I realized I wasn't really a city girl.  Yes, my address actually said "Atlanta, Ga. 30341" and I took pride in that when I wrote letters home and scribbled my return address in the upper corner of the envelope.  But I wasn't really in Atlanta.  I wasn't that big city girl.  I wasn't Mary Richards.  Or even Rhoda for that matter.  

After a couple years, I got closer.  Got to a closer suburb with a great little rental condo and a job that sustained me.  Even got a boyfriend or two along the way.  I was becoming that single, amazing, independent city girl...but not quite.   And then the economy collapse happened.

I lost a job.  Moved in with a friend, got another job. But because of said economy, the commute was horrid so I moved even further away from the city than I had ever been before.  Learned to love my life there, but more out of necessity than really wanting to be there.  A couple years later, that company folded and I moved again: equal distance from that big city I wanted, but still in a place where I found new friends, enjoyed my work and had a good life.

But I still wasn't Mary.  I think the one thing always missing was that I really, really wanted to be Mary.  

Last year, it finally happened.  I found a job with a company that I know will not fold because the niche market we serve is thriving and that I actually enjoy.  I commuted from Way Far Out for a year just to make sure of it and then realized: it's time.

Through a friend, a year ago next week, I found the cute little place I'm in now, in the heart of the city.  And I became Mary.

It took me nearly a decade and a half, but I am now the Big City Girl I wished for myself when I sat across from my mom at the Greek diner that night.  On Friday nights, I park my car and don't move it again until Monday morning's work commute because I can walk everywhere I want: to restaurants, grocery stores, clubs. If I can't do that, I can walk all of two blocks to what passes for our subway system here and jump a train to meet friends instead.  I can throw a bag and the blanket my sister brought me back from Mexico over my arm, like I did last week, and walk the three blocks to Atlanta's "Central Park" (actually designed by the same family who did New York's, yo!) to curl up under a tree, read a book and take a nap. And I can have nights like I did tonight.

A friend told me this week that she was having friends over to her front yard tonight; she set out chairs and tables and bottles with colorful drippy-type candles. Bring your own beverages; I'll have snacks, she said.  I told her I was in.  Today, another friend told me she was "on her own" tonight and had nothing to do for a few hours. I responded: "well... let me tell you what's happening...."

All of us live within a few blocks from each other.  Because that's where I am now.  I'm Mary.  We're all Mary.

We gathered.  I saw friends I hadn't seen in years (literally, not figuratively) because I had been So Far Away.  But after champagne glasses and Leinenkugel-filled solo cups, the laughter and stories flowed. I didn't have to go to a bar or a club or drive to some remote location and worry about a thing.  Oh no. I had to walk *across the street* to a friend's front lawn for this gathering.  Because that's what you do when you're centrally located.  That's what you CAN do.... when you're home. 

And I'm finally home. :-)

A woman showed up tonight that I hadn't seen in a year.  She reminded me she still had the books I loaned to her then and didn't forget that she had them and would get them back to me.  I joked I knew where to find her if I needed them.  [Seriously, though: books are meant to be gifted to those who would love them. I don't care if I ever get them back.] A couple showed up tonight that I hadn't seen in probably four or five years, given my time So Far Away and I so enjoyed seeing them again.  My aforementioned friend who had had no plans? Is now out singing karaoke with the folks from the aforementioned front lawn and having a good time at, yes, another walking-distance bar from all our homes.   

So if I go on and on about how I love my life and how I love my silly broke-down apartment and love where I am and how life is now?  I'm actually not trying to convince myself of it.  I'm just that joyful that I can't keep it in.

I'm finally Mary.

I'm home.

God bless Atlanta.   :-)

BirthdayGANZA

It boggles my mind sometimes to realize that I have a group of friends who have been in my life for so long and still make me laugh as hard as I did tonight, already counting the days until we can all meet up again.

Born out of an internet Listserv of two decades ago (yeah, today's youngins would have no clue what that is) and at at time where we could say "we met on the internet" and got clueless looks as opposed to scornful or freaked-out ones, the chances of this not only happening but lasting this long is really nothing short of glee-worthy. And not that silly show. Sheesh! Who on earth would bond over a *TV show*, anyway?

I just got back from an evening with these folks. It was great that Aron had a birthday (er...13 days ago) that gave us an excuse to gather.

Some thoughts from the evening, before I forget them:

1) As I parked, I Foursquare-checked in (um, do you know me?) and to no surprise saw Phil was already there. The shock was that Jacki WAS too! Ohmygosh. Now, that would never have happened fifteen years ago. ;-)

2) Even Anne made it on time - with 3 minutes to spare! Holy cow! Do I not know these people anymore?!

3) One of the best lines of the evening came as we were discussing movies. Someone dissed on "Gladiator" and the response was: "hey, I liked Gladiator! (pause) But, then, I like movies about gladiators." Laughter ensued. I'll let you guess who that came from. [Hint: wasn't one of the girls.]

4) There were some tender moments, remembering and talking about lost friends. We're nearly 20 years older than when we first met, but we're still far too young to have to be discussing lost friends our age. Jacki raised her glass and sweet toasts to those on our minds.

5) Keylime pie was claimed for Stacy, for Spain, for France (that fork quickly fell over; go figure) and then got in our bellies. See photo above. France is obvious. :)

6) I'm apparently vertically challenged. Aron's the oldest of all of us. Viggle is going to be Jacki's and Phil's newest obsession (you're welcome) and the quest to find the first weeping angel is on.

7) BBC really needs to have us for their marketing team. Seriously, wouldn't Oods make a perfect string of Christmas lights?

8) Scott is by far one of the most clever, funniest men I have ever met. No wonder he and Jax have just celebrated their 15th Anniversary and still going strong. He makes me laugh like there's no tomorrow and we all know there is one. Well, at least until the end of the world comes in December, that is. What's wicked cool is he makes himself laugh too. I SO tried to capture him laughing uncontrollably tonight (it was something about a pie. And it's love for me. I think. Heh. I think I'm finally understanding it, actually).

9) And, no, Phil, I did not find a Democrat in the Kroger parking lot and turned him in. I know we Republicans can be brutal, but we haven't started roundin' up our opponents for exportation yet. (But thanks for the idea! I'll start talking to my people.)

10) One of the best things about the evening (well, for us; probably not them) was all the evil glares and glances, the "evil eye" half the group got when walking out the door. Yes, because we were loud (hey, it was already loud in there) and we laughed uncontrollably. Repeatedly. I guess in the future we *could* ask for a private room (or they'll just learn to put us in one), but my joy from this doesn't come from annoying others but realizing that, deep down? Their annoyance was probably rooted in a little envy. To look at a table of six very different, very unique individuals who were not drunk, not even really that obnoxious, and think: wow. What an amazing group of friends that must be over there. I wish *I* had that.

Because it's what I'm thinking right now too. I wish everyone had what we had tonight.

The greatest thing for me tonight is that I had not one drop of liquor while with them and I still laughed so much my side kinda hurts right now. :) It's that "good hurt" - you know, the one your personal trainer will tell you you'll feel the next day and you pretty much just want to punch them in the face? Yeah, that. It was only as I was driving home did it occur to me to think they might have thought I had a DUI or something and that's why I wasn't drinking (gasp! Stacy not with a drink? OMG, things HAVE changed!). ;-) Haha. No. It's because I knew I didn't NEED it with these people, these amazing friends. And I AM often insecure enough that I DO need a glass of wine, a cocktail or two to loosen up. Not with these folks. I love that.

(Oh, and, shit, let's face it: I could NOT have been on my game with Mr. Scott up there in #8 if I had been. Too friggin' clever for his own good, that li'l shit is.)

The thing is: with this group, it doesn't seem to matter how long you've been apart or the ups and downs you've been through or anything else: it's always like Coming Home. And this was one homecoming I had truly been looking forward to and wanted to remember every moment of so I could write it now, here. The whole drive home, I had a grin on my face. And the little geek in me couldn't wait to get home, even if it meant having to leave them, just so I could post pictures and write about what a lovely, lovely evening I had. Because I never want to forget.

Thank you, my companions, my friends. I'm looking forward to many more of these in the future.

Kamlesh

Kenny. Kamlesh. You Bastard.

Son. Friend. Colleague. Gentleman.

Gift. Treasure. Blessing. Love.

The world lost an amazing heart, a truly special human this week when the gentleman above left our world for the one that comes next.

You may have known him by one of the names above. You may have known him as more than one; maybe them all, even. I'm going to guess that most of you who know Kamlesh even have more words to add than I just did. That's just the man he was.

I almost feel a little like a fraud writing an entry about Kamlesh when I haven't seen him in a while. I almost didn't write this because of that: for fear of folks thinking that I had no right to write about a man that I haven't seen in person for a few years now. But I wanted to anyway, because of that very fact: that he was just that rare type of person that you actually could go years without seeing each other and still feel close to him. Because he always had a way of making you feel close, even if you weren't physically together.

Even though I didn't get to be with him lately in presence like we had for many years, we always still kept in touch on social sites and shared private messages and emails about things that mattered, or things that made us laugh or things that were just plain silly. I always thought that was just a way to keep in touch until we could get together again. I always thought that would happen.

And I still know it will.

Someday.

I have memories of Kamlesh that, even now as I'm tearing up writing this, I'm laughing too. Like the time that his best friend Phil took me out to this specialty running group with him and Kamlesh actually looked at us after our first time doing it and told us he had actually been doing it for years and was crazy tickled we were now doing it too. We were all surprised! But happy! So we all ended up in Wisconsin, 900 miles from here, 6 months later to do a run there together. And then others after even.

And then there was the time, on many a Thanksgiving potluck, that Kamlesh would bring the extra special something. After a few years, he asked if he could make the turkey to help us and we were so happy to let him have that task -- until, when he saw the instructions to "wash turkey before baking" and thinking of salmonella and all, decided to wash it with *anti-bacterial soap.* You know, to make sure everyone would be safe and healthy and not get sick, right? (Yeah, is that not Kamlesh, seriously? Thinking of others always?) But, heehee! One of my favorite memories to this day is the sight of that turkey, bubbling in the oven. He was sheepish and even a little bit horrified about it, thinking he ruined dinner; I found it adorable. Phil did too. Kamlesh so did not ruin dinner; instead, he made an amazing memory for us all that we'll never forget.

Everything about Kamlesh is unforgettable like that.

When he laughed, you couldn't help but laugh. If you were in a down mood, his very presence picked you up. Everyone has bad, ugly or down moods: but I never ever saw one with this gentleman. He had just as many challenges as the rest of us do in life (if not more), but he never let them affect how he was going to live out his day or treat you when he was with you.

For example: it was nearing my birthday once and I was unemployed, poor, in a bad place. In a funk even. I had mentioned once in a group setting how I really just needed to get myself out of my funk and at least start working out again. I very barely knew him then. But the next day? I got a brand new beautiful Eddie Bauer gym bag (in my favorite color no less -- that's Kamlesh, he knew!) on my doorstep with a little note of encouragement that I'd get over "this time I was going through." I still use it to this day.

That's what Kamlesh is, though. He's everything I said in the opening of this blog, but so much more that, even as a writer, I can't put into words. He knew how to make a person feel special and unique and precious and worthy. And it's because all of those words I just wrote exactly explain him and his soul.

Special. Unique. Precious. Worthy.

I'd say rest in peace, my friend, but I already have a feeling you're not resting, dear Kamlesh. You're watching over all of us and still making our lives a better place even if you're not here with us. It's who you are, afterall.

One amazing man.