Like a Bridge over Troubled Water

The other day I was channel surfing on XM radio and landed on a song I don’t hear often: Bridge Over Troubled Waters. As soon as I heard the familiar piano accompaniment, I cranked the volume and belted out with Simon and Garfunkel. By the end of the song, I was blubbering—crying my eyes out. You see, this isn’t just a beautiful song from my parents’ generation. It’s a song that holds a particularly special memory for me.

At a pops concert my senior year in high school, I sang this song with my two of my best friends, Nicole Heller and Kira Gaer. I was probably the weak link in the trio. Kira carried a pop star eminence and Nicole had a strong voice of her own. My piano background gave me an acceptable level of harmony instruction and we managed to pull off a fairly decent performance—from what I can remember anyway.

Add Nicole, Kira, and me.

Cannily the lyrics came back to me as if I was still that 17-year-old with my two friends, all caught up in the performance that would probably make us big stars. "Sail on silver girl, sail on by."  As my 47-year-old self drove home in the dark from work that night absorbing the beautifully sentimental song,  I became sadly aware of something. Would we ever have believed, back in 1987, we would've ended up with hardly any contact anymore? Never. We would never have believed it.

Kira, Nicole, and I had that 80's aura, John Hughes-like connection. We loved fashion and pop culture with a transparent goal to emulate Madonna on our audacious days or Whitney Houston on our playful days. We were not opposed to rating boys and did some heavy Bible research on premarital sex. We loved to laugh. And most of all, we loved to dream.

It was a given we were all destined to be rich. Nicole made sure we always drove around with the windows down—messy hair practice for when we purchased our first convertible. I was going to be the lawyer (Claire Huxtable style). Nicole would be the doctor. Kira only considered the medical field as her backup plan. Because she never, ever quit singing. She would be the next Madonna. At the end of one night of cruising our country roads and planning our futures, long after Nicole and I had quit singing to the radio, Kira’s voice went hoarse. She apologized. “Sorry guys. I’m not going to be able to sing for you anymore tonight.” We managed.

Nicole and I stayed in touch after high school, rooming together for a bit in college and standing up in each other's weddings. She married her high school sweetheart and became a pharmacist in Spirit Lake with three lovely children. I think of her often and hope she is well.

Neither of us see Kira anymore. Unfathomably, she died at the age of 22 from non-hodgkin lymphoma. She passed away just as we were starting off our lives. I visit her grave once a year and she still visits me from time to time in my dreams. "And friends just can't be found... " What would she be doing now if she would've lived? Would she be settled in with her family? Like Nicole and I? Navigating work and kids' activities? Mailing off our annual Christmas cards to each other? Or would she be competing against Beyonce for a grammy? I kind of like to think maybe.

Cheerleading days

My teenage self probably wouldn't have been surprised that I turned out to be banker, nor Nicole a pharmacist. But I wouldn't never have imagined Kira, the most vivacious of us all, to be gone. But then again, she did always seemed to be destined for the stars. The truth is, she’ll never be gone–nor will the memories of my best pals and the dreams we dreamed. They will always live in a special place in my heart....like a bridge.

The Gap Generation

I took the day off today with the intention of spending the day with Doug before he went to the field. Too late. He's in the field. So, instead of heading back to work, I decided to pay homage to the recently deceased Donald Fisher, also known as the founder of The Gap. He obviously was smiling down from heaven because I hit a jackpot of sales AND the sales associate let me use a coupon one day early...it's no wonder I love that place.

I decided to scorn my daughter's critique of my lifeless wardrobe and bought jeans and t-shirts. My favorites. It felt kind of like...coming home. I heard a radio commentator recognize Gap as the company that "democratized style." It brought khakis to the masses. It turned the white t-shirt into sexy. It's because of Gap that I have a hoodie addiction.

Gap was born in 1969, as was I. It's no wonder that Gen Xers share some sort of spiritual textile connection to the brand. Gap epitomizes my generation. Simple. Smart. Neutral at the core, with only an occasional need to splash some color.

Okay, enough philosophizing. On to another riveting anecdote from today...

I also went to Borders...and I walked out without one, single purchase. As I roamed, somewhat lamely looking for a business book, I noticed how many of the displayed novels I have sitting at home, waiting to be read. What's wrong with me? Sure, I love to read. But why do I just keep buying books I don't have time for? When I got home, I counted them. 16. I have sixteen books waiting to be read. (That doesn't include the two books sitting in the living room, which I have started.) So my new resolution? No purchases until everything on my shelf has been read. (Not sure if this resolution includes Kindle purchases yet...)

Anyway, my day was heavenly, despite the absence of my hubby. And the tears that eked out as I spied tiny leg warmers and a matching scarf at Baby Gap. The tears quickly dried as a young mother chased her toddler through the store, reminding me that it's not all about dressing up the baby. Almost all. But not all.

Back to Work, After a Week Off..

A Message to Boomers...

I really do have a great respect for all you Baby Boomers. After all, you are a pretty cool bunch. You brought us The Beatles, Led Zeppelin, The Rolling Stones, and other way-awesome bands. You made this country realize how important diversity is. You redefined the role of grandparents by refusing to age. There is no doubt that the Boomer generation deserves respect. But there’s an issue we don’t see eye-to-eye…

Is it really so bad that we younger generations would like a better balance between work and family? The nights I leave the office by 5:00, my boss looks at the clock and makes a comment like, “Oh, you’re leaving already?” Yep. And it isn’t like I’m going to go home, put my feet up and eat bon-bons. If I don’t have to pick up a prescription or get groceries or run kids to some activity, I’m usually rushing home to toss in one load of laundry (so the kids have underwear tomorrow) while making a mediocre supper and skimming the daily headlines so I have a vague idea of what’s going on in the world. Quality time usually begins around 9:00.

Well, that kind of sucks! We’re all half-dead by that time.

My Boomer Mom and my Boomer Dad raised me to work hard and get ahead. I do believe in hard work. It’s good for many more reasons than “keeping up with the Jones’” – like contributing to society, putting food on the table, etc. But I you know what I think? I think we should all wake up at a reasonable hour to take a long walk, smell a flower and spend time talking with the kids in the morning. I think we should get home early enough to take the family to the park, play some catch and settle down in the evening and read a good book together.

It’s been said that Boomers live to work. That’s fine if that’s really what makes them happy. (I think there’s a badge of honor associated with number of hours worked. Or maybe it’s just more money.) But I’d rather work to live. And really live. So, what do you say Boomers? Should we reduce the work week to 40 hours? Maybe 39?

Yeah. That’s what I thought you’d say! 