I marched up to him, smiled, and said, “I’d like a free hug, please.” He returned the smile and laughed as he hugged me. “Yeah, why not, right?” He said. Which is precisely what I’d been thinking: free hug – why not? I asked him what prompted the decision to offer hugs to total strangers, and he pointed me toward the Free Hugs Campaign.

“I see people walking around,” he told me,” and they just look like they feel bad. So I thought, why not?”

It rained most of the day; the hem of pants got waterlogged and dragged me down as I walked. But I know my heart was a little lighter.

All About Steve is really all about Mary: Mary Horowitz, a quirky cruciverbalist (the official term for people who make cross word puzzles and possibly the best job title ever) with people problems. She lives with her parents (but just while her apparent is being fumigated, of course), hasn’t been on a date in ages, and talks to her pet hamster, Carole. Steve is a camera guy for a local news team that her parents have set her up on a blind date with – a blind date she intends to cancel until her boss, rejecting her radical new cross word puzzle idea, begs her to keep it. Go out, have fun, he tells her. Enjoy being normal. “BE NORMAL,” Mary writes at the top of her puzzle draft, like copying instructions off a blackboard.

Because Mary is anything but, really. And while I’m all about a movie with a quirky heroine who saves the day by being weird, I spent most of the movie wondering if Mary were really a high-functioning Asperger’s sufferer.

I expected the traditional Weird Girl story arc: under-appreciated girl is rejected by guy until the Dramatic Plot Twist, when she must save the day by being exactly who she is, upon which event said guy realizes that who she is is in fact pretty awesome. No such luck. Mary saves the day, but doesn’t get the guy. He apologizes for bailing on their one date, lying to her, and nearly getting her killed, but there’s no big romantic moment, no sweeping Mary off her ridiculous red boots and riding away into the sunset.

“Find someone as normal as you are,” Mary advises just before the credits roll. And for her, that’s clearly not Camera Guy Steve. Personally, I think it’s the former physicist who got bored with his job and now carves apple heads for a living (Mother Theresa is his biggest seller), but in the end it doesn’t matter. She can appreciate herself just fine on her own.

So thank you, Mary Horowitz, for reminding me that even a failed quest can sometimes net you a grail.

In the interests of prodding myself into blogging (and thus into writing in general) I’m posting that survey I was so impressed with a post or two ago. Enjoy! And repeat. And then tell me about it so I can read all about you, too.

1.I’ve come to realize that my body…is probably in both better and worse shape than I think it is.

2. I’ve come to realize that my job…is much more than that.

3. I’ve come to realize that when I’m driving..must have music. Frankly, almost anything I do must be accompanied by music, but driving absolutely demands it, else I’ll be incredibly bored and probably cause a horrific interstate pile up. I sing show tunes a lot when I drive.

4. I’ve come to realize that I need…only about half the things I really want.

5. I’ve come to realize that I have lost….nothing that I cannot live without. Not to say I won’t miss things, but…

6. I have come to realize that when I am drunk…ok, you know, I’ve never actually been drunk. I’ve been tipsy; I get either very amorous or very sleepy. I expect drunk would be more of the same.

7. I have come to realize that my health…is something to pay daily attention to. “Young” and “old” don’t matter. “Healthy” and”unhealthy” do.

8. I’ve come to realize that money…will always be in short supply, no matter how much you actually have. Best learn to make do, yes?

9. I’ve come to realize that certain people…contain lifetimes of inspiration.

10. I’ve come to realize that I’ll always…question.

11. I’ve come to realize that my mom…is the most amazing person I know.

12. I’ve come to realize that my cell phone…is a vital tool. And a leash. But mostly that first one.

13. I’ve come to realize that when I woke up this morning…I really had to pee. (Yeah. Sorry. I’m rarely brilliant or insightful before noon, unless I have to teach.)

14. I’ve come to realize that last night before I went to sleep…I was alone, and ok with that.

15. I’ve come to realize that right now I am thinking…hat my ipod is dying.

16. I’ve come to realize that my dad…is as irrelevant as I always suspected.

17. I’ve come to realize that when I get on Facebook…I feel a little more connected. Though perhaps this is illusion.

18. I’ve come to realize that today…was one of those days where nothing goes quite right. This is what comes, sometimes, of obligating yourself ot others. This is what, comes, sometimes, of being alive.

19. I’ve come to realize that tonight…will be vintage horror movie awesomeness.

20. I’ve come to realize that tomorrow…I really need to clean the bathroom. Seriously, it won’t clean itself. I keep asking, but my bathroom is unreasonable.

21. I’ve come to realize that I really want to…get a PhD. Because having done the work for an MA already…even though an MFA would be different and challenging, I feel th need to push myself that much further. And really, Dr.Wakefield sounds so much cooler than Ashley Wakefield, MFA.

22. I’ve come to realize that the person who is most likely to repost this is…is reading it now.

23. I’ve come to realize that in life…”one has to face a huge assortment of nauseating fads and good advice.”- that show tunes habit telling on me again. Oh, Aida.

24. I’ve come to realize that this weekend…has been, so far, more productive than I thought it had.

25. I’ve realized the best music to listen to when I am upset…..is the Ramones. I also listen to them when I’m happy. Ramones, multi-mood msuic.

26. I’ve come to realize that my friends…are very precious.

27. I’ve come to realize that this year….is change. Whether I want it or not. And really? I do.

28. I’ve come to realize that all my ex friends…are in that category with good reason.

29. I’ve come to realize maybe I should…leap. The results are generally good. I mean, I’m good with the looking before and all, but leaping. That’s where it’s at.

30. I’ve come to realize that I love…words. Really? Really.

31. I’ve come to realize that I don’t understand…delibrate cruelty.

32. I’ve come to realize my past…is what got me here. And I like here. There are bits of my past that make me cringe; I think I’d change some if I could. But they did get me here, and that counts for a lot.

33. I’ve come to realize that parties…are fun! I spent so long being not really a fan, thank of parties. This year seems tob e about discovering my inner extrovert. (Is that a contradiction? Oh, well, so am I.)

34. I’ve come to realize that I’m totally terrified…of being utterly rejected by phd programs my first time aound. I actually try not to think about the possibility that much. Also, I’m afraid of rheumatoid arthiritis. It’s low on the list of things tht maybe-possibly-could-be wrong with me, but I’ve seen what RA does to hands. I need my hands. I need to write and sew and knit. Can you knit with your feet?

35. I’ve come to realize that my life…will only ever be what I make it be.

In some of my earliest memories of him, I remember my uncle Steve as The Guy Who Helped Built My Swingset. Every kid needs a swingset, but I was always especially attached to mine. I don’t think there was a day in the 16 years we lived in that house that I didn’t spend at least a little time out there, rain or shine. It was my favourite playground. When things got a little too crowded inside the house, it was my quiet haven.

 Every Sunday, Steve came over after church to eat lunch with me and my mother and my grandparents. Afterwards, I would sometimes ask him to stay and play a game of checkers with me. Sometimes he would, but most often he went on home instead. I was never upset by that; I always knew that Steve, like me, was a shy person who got tired out easily by people. I knew that for him, going him on a Sunday afternoon to his apartment and his cats was a lot like me retreating to the backyard swingset he had built for me.

But even though he was quiet and valued his solitude, Steve’s haven always seemed to have a place for me. Whenever I visited his apartment, he would gladly relinquish his computer for a while, or watch me play with the cats, or go with me down to the swimming pool. Once, we collaborated on making dinner – hamburgers and salad – for ourselves and my mom. I was going to slice little bits of ham for the salad, but there wasn’t a cutting board available, so Steve layered some wax paper on the kitchen counter for me. I had quite a little pile of ham all ready to go in the salad, but when I picked it up to dump it all in, I discovered that the knife had not only sliced through the ham, but also the two layers of wax paper – all the ham quickly ended up on the floor. We stared at each other for a minute, shocked, and then laughed. I think we put tomatoes in the salad instead.

Sometime in middle school, I decided that I wanted to learn French, so I got myself some language-learning software and loaded it onto Steve’s computer. If my command of the language is a little less than fluent today, it’s probably because I spent more time watching Star Wars and playing computer games with Steve than I did actually learning French.

A love of science fiction is something that my uncle and I always shared – he was a very early and lasting influence on my taste in literature and television, and I think he was happy to have someone with whom to share the things he loved. He never made me feel like it was a chore to spend time with me; we could be in the same room, each reading our own separate book, just being quiet together. He took me to the library and to movies in the summer. Once, when I forgot my library card at home and he didn’t have one, Steve signed up to get a library card that very day just so I could check out a book I’d already read three times.

There was one interest that my uncle and I never got the chance to share. I remember him telling me about a British sci-fi show called Doctor Who, but I never sat down to watch it with him. When my mom and I were cleaning out Steve’s apartment after the stroke, I found his VHS tapes full of Doctor Who episodes and decided to watch them – mostly as a way to feel close to him at first, but after a while I developed a genuine liking for the show. Four years ago, a friend of mine, also a fan of the show, hosted a Doctor Who viewing party and get-together at her house – that’s where I met my husband.

There are things I will never know about my uncle, moments we will never share, and questions I will never get to ask. But I do know this: he will never stop adding to my life. It – and I – will always be better because of him. He will never see me finish my PhD, or spend an afternoon doing engineering projects that I will never understand with my husband; he will never hold my children and distract them from their French lessons. But in the things that he taught me, the way that he shaped me, my uncle will be there for all of that and more.

About half-way through, I came across: “I have realized that today…is all I have until tomorrow.” 

I had to re-read it several times. It’s one of those thing, I think, that’s so obvious, so basic, that one forgets it.

Recently another friend of mine lost her mother very unexpectedly. Amid the outpouring of sympthy, sorrow, and memories, Kristi reminded us of something her mother always used to say. “Tomorrow is never promised.”

So if all we have until tomorrow is today…and tomorrow is never promised..then all we really have for certain is right now. Each moment is singular and whole unto itself – each moment is a world. Change the moment, change the world.

And so we chatted about hair. His daughter, once upon a time, had really long hair. She came home from college one summer and announced she was cutting it – which she did, into a short, spiky pixie. She then dyed it bright fire engine red – and her dad let her, because “it looked good, and you’re only young once.” That reminded me of my mother, who once told me that your mid-twenties are for re-visiting all the crazy and potentially dumb things you wanted to do in your teens and deciding which ones were genuinely bad ideas and which ones would be the sort of fun you seem to only get away with in your mid-twenties. (By the by, as of the 11th, I’ve passed officially from “mid” to “late” twenties – is there a maxim of some sort for that age group too?)

Unfortunately, check-out guy’s daughter’s hair didn’t last long; she got a job at a grocery store, and they required her to change it. “We don’t do that sort of thing here,” they said. It was the check-out guy’s considered  opinion that people like that should loosen up and “get a life.’” Can’t say I really disagreed. 

Before I left, he mentioned that he used to wear his hair short too – and sometimes gelled spikes into it. This last he said with a sort of conspiratorial twinkle in his eye, as if he were telling me about the time he dipped a girl’s pigtails in an inkwell or conned all his friends into whitewashing a fence. He wears it longer now.

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Ladies, help a young woman’s awesome business venture (re-usable cloth pads!), your monthly grocery bill, and the environment all in one fell swoop. I’m betting the good feeling from all that is better for cramps than chocolate.

For all my yakkin’ about not going on any sort of vacation this year, it turns out I’ve given myself the lie there. Some friends of mine and my husband’s got married on St. Simon’s Island in Georgia. Some fortuitous scheduling changes allowed us to spend a little more time there than we thought we’d have, and instead of a quick 2-day trip, we ended up with a 4 day beach vacation. 

St Simon’s is a completely charming place; it’s like a cozy, lived-in Key West. The St Simon’s Inn, where we stayed, is literally right across the road from both the historic lighthouse and maritime museum, and a nice strip of beach. 

               St. Simon’s Lighthouse :                                                 

The beach has some crazy tides, though; plenty  to swim and play at low tide…but when the tide rolls in, the beach disappears and the dock steps lead straight into the sea. (I just realized, in that second photo, that you can see my feet prints coming back up the stairs – as if something were walking out of the sea. Creepy.)

 Beautiful place to get married, yes?

We also found time to make the journey to Fort Frederica – or at least the ruins thereof – where a delightfully enthusiastic park ranger who must love his job told us about the town, the fort, and the battles fought.  He
wore period clothing and demonstrated a musket for us. Shame on me for forgetting how cool American history is. 

 Also made a stop at Christ        Church – apparently a birth  place, of sorts, for Methodism  in America. John and Charles  Wesley preached on these  grounds as early as the 1730′s,  though there wasn’t a church  till much later. The cemetery is  vast and beautiful. 

In a bit of rare luck, my brother-in-law and his family were vacationing on Tibey Island, also in Georgia, at the same time John and I were on St. Simon’s Island. We stopped by on our way back home and the seven of us got to spend our last day of vacation together. It was a special treat; Mollie, the oldest, is off at college and not home so often; Katie, the next in line, just graduated (hence the celebratory family vacation) and will be off soon too – and my sister-and-brother-in-law are such busy people in general that’s it’s rare to get to visit with them – all of them –  in a relaxed setting with no time constraints or pressures. You can’t choose the family you’re born to…and to a large extent, you can’t choose the family that comes attached to your spouse, either. I’m phenomenally lucky to have amazing people on both sides of that equation. 

  I’ve been accused of being brave because I shaved(ish) my head; on this trip I discovered actual bravery in the form of being seen in a bikini, on a public beach, with my two nieces, also in bikinis. My two beautiful, barely over eighteen, both on their college swim team nieces. I think, before the hair and my conscious effort to own this skin I walk around in, wondering what I looked like to everyone else might’ve gotten just the slightest bit in the way of all the fun I ended up having. 

I think the best part of the day, though, was the water antics of Bonnie. (She’s the youngest, at 12). “Look, y’all, I’m a dolphin!” “Look, I’m a flying fish!”  :)