Every Tuesday is LoLo and mom day! Last week Tuesday we spent in Prospect Park. We love Prospect Park and don't go nearly as often as we should,
because all covered in snow it felt a like we just stepped into a winter wonderland.
The entrance to the park was like a magical alley leading to surprises ...
A lone runner passed by us, while the sun amazingly lit the glistening white trees and ground ...
The picnic house and tables were also covered in a white coat ...
The snow was so deep - it was a workout to get to the sledding hill
And this is the moment when you arrive .. backwards from the hill ...
"Yumm, this snow is delicious" .. as it kept falling from the tree branches
Isn't this beautiful?
Three hours later we were on our way back home ... Full of nature ...
In regards to drugs, I am a happy, ignorant child of
Communism, I would say. I had no idea what they were while growing up. Nobody
tried to sell them to me at school, none of my friends experienced it – or I
was too nerdy or naïve to know?
Drugs were something you bought at the pharmacy and took for headache. When I
was 19, I was invited to a New Years Eve party and a bunch of guys went out for
a “smoke” … I don’t smoke! I can’t inhale and smoke makes my eyes itch, so who
cared?! There was talk about marijuana and one guy mentioned, that he was
growing it and asked his mom to water his “herbs” while away. His mom thought
her son found a new hobby in horticulture and we all laughed hysterically,
including myself, who didn’t want to be exposed for the lack of knowledge. I
never took an offer for a fear of being completely ridiculed not being able to
In another case, years later, I was offered white powder while already living
in the US. I looked at the baggie and thought it would look pretty on my baked
cookies sieved onto cutout jelly hearts.
Later again, we took a trip to Jamaica. It was an unexpected vacation I won
through a magazine competition and we stayed at an all-inclusive resort. I am
not a resort person! During the first 30 minutes I tried every bar chair,
table, hammock and pool and was ready to leave somewhere else in search of an
adventure, when a guy in a little boat waved at me from the water. He was a bit
far, but I was happy to take a swim and make contact with the first real dreadlock
“Ya maan!” .. You need weed?
I realized he was conducting business ...
“Uhhhmm sure! But how do we do this?”
“Just put the money in a plastic bag!”
I was excited to finally try it and did just that. Placed bills in a zip-lock
and proved my swimming skills with one arm were sufficiently great. We smoked it
that night on our little balcony overlooking the crystal blue water. I felt it was part
of the culture, like rum cake, Bob Marley and the bobsled team, though I had no
idea when or how “high” would come …
… I guess I didn’t inhale …
Then came colonoscopy!
I had no idea!
I thought it was all awkward, painful, terrifying. But waking up from whatever
drug, I found myself a part of a kaleidoscope swirling peacefully in shine,
shimmer, color, glitter. My first question awake jokingly was: “What was that
stuff? When can I come again?”That was the closest I have ever gotten to high, I think, but I am still
not 100% sure.
The one thing I know a lot about are needles! Not by a choice of a recreational
drug, but by chemotherapy and IVF. None of them made me high or gave
pleasurable experience. Heck, not even an altered state of mind that I could
rely on when I thought there was death in my deck of cards that life dealt.
Chemo made me sick with nausea, depressed and wanting me to spend days in bed
watching TV and feeling like my life was slipping away.
I finally, painfully learnt the mastery of needles while undergoing IVF. I was
telling myself “this time it’s to create a new life and not a battle”. I
mustered up all my strength to take a needle, pinch my stomach and with a fast,
but decisive moment shoot it all in there.
Every time I hear a celebrity passing, because of recreational needles I feel resentful,
angry. I’ve seen too many needles! I’ve seen and known people living their life
to the fullest, maybe not celebrities, but amazing people who would have done
anything for the opportunity others had. Their needles contained drugs of no
choice or recreation; it was to live longer. Their “high” was defined very much
by being with family and friends at times, when they could still comprehend.
I am so angry! How do you, addicts dare???
I have an addiction experience! No needles, bottles instead!
Many bottles. Violence, doors that were bang shut, promises not kept, knives
that flew overhead. Fearful days and nights from not knowing the state, in
which he would enter through the front door. Sometimes he would just collapse,
as he entered and fell asleep – this was the better. Other times, we would have
to pack and run for our lives and ask for shelter from family, friends … until
nobody would take us in for their own fear. We would then take a train and book
into a hotel that was the cost of mom’s two weeks salary …
Behind every addict there is a family that suffers!
Numerous attempts made - doctors, medications that supposed
to help, rehab that gives new hope every time, but more often than not fails; tears
shed, discussions and family meetings had. Sometimes threats, fights and mostly the feeling
of helplessness …
An article that I recently read talks about people that faze
out the addicts, that addicts don’t get help … (The phasing out part you know,
that also happens to cancer patients.)
Behind every addict is a family, friends that tried … that are hurt, that
mostly have done everything …There are kids that have been sheltered from the truth, but are smart
and know all too well …
I was that child, the cancer patient and I resent – the drugs,
the addicts, the chance at life they had, but threw away!
London and Lola (a.k.a. LoLo) are travelers. Traveling is our religion and so they
come with us wherever we go. During their 4.5 years they’ve flown 4 times to
Europe, visited 4 Caribbean islands and managed to get a frequent flier card.
My husband, Geoffrey travels for work and carefully manages his reward points,
so that we can stay comfortably in most places of the world for free. (A perk
that is nice to have, but hardly a substitution for family dinners missed or
good night cuddles).
This year, we picked the Virgin Islands as our winter
gateway. We’ve stayed on St. John before and re-tell our Cinnamon Bay adventure 12 years ago, again and again. You know, when … we could not figure out how to build our
brand new tent and it got dark, when we were told there were wild donkeys
roaming the campgrounds and one may just wander into our brand new tent, when
we realized what it meant to have “too much privacy” getting a bare site in the
middle of the dense forest, the time when all horror movies came alive every
and each night … and the rest of course … the stunning beaches, the 50 shades
of turquoise of the water, the amazing wild life, the hikes, cactus, live
reggae and the horseback ride that almost killed Geoffrey (because I did not
completely believe that he is so allergic to animals).
This time around, before we booked our bungalow at Cinnamon
Bay, we thought of all the advantages and disadvantages of spending 4 nights at
a campground. Though we’ve been planning to, we have not yet camped out with
LoLo. Our vacations were spent in the comfort of hotel rooms with crispy, white
bed sheets or family homes that provided as much comfort as our own apartment
in Brooklyn. We would stay in a bungalow with simple beds, a closet (I was hoping
for) and no bathroom facilities. The lack of bathroom seemed to be the biggest of
our concerns, so I ordered a portable potty with 5 stars review from amazon and
decided that the 25 USD spent was part of our private insurance policy (“just in
case we need it”). We were wondering how LoLo would react to this new, unusual environment.
At the end of the day, they are children of privilege – just as all their peers
at home. They have the entire world in their city, get exposed to a variety of
experiences one would only find in New York, they travel, they suffer no
shortage of any kind (if time spent with dad doesn’t count). We were excited to
show them something different.
Weeks before the trip, we talked about the beautiful
beaches, the palm trees, the islands and what we would do without mentioning
even a word about our “hotel”. Not
because we didn’t want to, but because it was not important (I thought). After
a short flight, a taxi ride and a boat ride we loaded our belongings into a blue rental jeep and were driving the winding roads of St. John.
The Tree Lizards restaurant stood without change, just as 12
years ago. A lady with a wide smile checked us in, we loaded our wheel barrow
and were on our way to bungalow 8D. Everyone we passed by greeted us with a big
smile and a “hello”. We felt welcomed. A single key on a ring and a green
plastic triangle opened the lock on the door, LoLo ran ahead and did the hotel
initiation ceremony of jumping on the beds, while we figured out the room set
up. 4 beds on visibly rusty, old spring boxes, one table, four plastic chairs, no
closet, but few weathered shelves with basic kitchen utensils and a few plates,
a mini fridge and two fans at the corner of the room. Two sides of the bungalow
were walls, the other two were mesh screens with curtain panels. The porch had
a picnic table and a small gas cooker. As soon as I put down our luggage I went
to check the mattresses for bed bugs, but before I could Geoffrey frowned at
me: “Elvi, don’t!” … … I did not …
“Can we please, go swimming” sounded the unanimous plea of
both, London and Lola from below the tall palm trees full of coconuts. We ran
to the beach visible from our bungalow. LoLo jumped the waves, screamed from happiness,
threw their shoes to shore and ran back and forth chasing the blue water. I
wish I had my camera ready … “This is why we came here”, I thought ... the pure
joy of them being by the ocean and of us, parents witnessing all of it was
worth a trip … LoLo wanted to shed their clothes on an instinct and run ... I
often wonder why happiness in kids shines through by running … When kids run,
they are happy … always!
We went back to the bungalow, changed into our bathing suits
and enjoyed the rest of the day by the beautiful water, sand and palm trees.
Finally, we discovered the bathroom facilities – basic, clean, with cold water
showers! “I work too hard for this” I remembered Geoffrey’s words when we
camped here for the first time. “Ok, this will definitely be an adventure” I mumbled to myself and turned to the kids with smile “Yay for cold showers!” London and
Lola felt the water and giggled to my surprise (why are they not whining? I
There were three adorable kids checking us out all this time
– an 8 years old girl, Anna, her 7 years old brother Harry and the 5 years old Holly
all came to introduce themselves and offer their water and beach toys to share.
I would see them the following days playing by the water, collecting twigs and
leaves and going proudly with their 5 dollar bills to and from the camp store
to purchase ice cream of their choice, like big kids. Melanie, their mom is a
single mother and brought them on vacation. I thought about me taking London
and Lola to school and how long that took and had immediate admiration of Melanie,
who packed up three kids and herself in one!!!! suitcase. When I asked them if
I could take a photo, Anna said she would ask her mom if it was ok; when Lola
fell on the rocks, because she followed Anna, she came to apologize, though it
was not her fault. These kids were the best behaved, most responsible,
independent kids I’ve met. Melanie told me, that she believes in giving
experiences to her kids and not material things, I agreed and liked her immediately.
We matched in our philosophies, but I still need to learn! 1 suitcase! .. I
kept thinking …
At night, when all four of us crawled into two single
beds pushed together, I realized that it wasn’t only the four of us that shared
the bungalow, but also a variety of four and multi-legged creatures that
crawled under and above the bed. This time, a cockroach walked lazily across
the room while I was tucking myself into the single white sheet, getting ready
for story time. I wanted to scream and run. I glanced over to Geoffrey, who was
comfortably hugging the two munchkins and I decided to keep this news top secret
to myself fearing, that he will pack us all up and we’ll head to the nearest
resort the next day. That night, as all the following nightsof our stay, we fell asleep with
the sun setting, waves crushing, the sound of our fans spinning the warm Caribbean
air, night birds and frogs chirping and stories from Geoffrey’s and my
childhood. And every night it seemed magical. Did I say there was no cell phone
or internet service? It brought us, as a family closer than ever before. To my
surprise, still nobody complained. After a while I realized, that Geoffrey was fully aware of the creatures that shared our living
space – what’s more, one apparently even crossed his face one morning, but
somehow it wasn’t a big deal. I wasn’t even sure if LoLo noticed the change in
their living conditions – they were just happy and content (cold showers, bed
mites nicknamed ants, saltines for breakfast, toilet away .. etc.) The only
thing London said on the first night was: “Mommy, this is not like home!” (The
understatement of the year, we giggled.).
Melanie, the single mom with three kids and one suitcase,
who as we’ve learnt is an attorney in “real” life recommended, that we visit
another beach that’s part of a resort.This beach is also part of the national park, so anyone can have access.
We drove through the manicured lawn, walking across the hotel property to yet
another stunning beach. We spent the day enjoying the water once again. Only
one thing stood out – the guests at the resort didn’t smile and didn’t greet
each other, just like every single person at the campground. They walked past
each – other as strangers, who happen to be at the same place.
Melanie, who could most certainly afford taking her kids to
any hotel, seeing the strangers at the resort, going through our amazing experiences as a family and yes, that 1 suitcase, the well-known lines of Tolkien’s poem kept coming back to
my mind again and again…
All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost ….