Images of This American Life: Firecracker Weekend.

The fourth of July has always been one of my favorite holidays. It takes me back to my childhood and the long day of anticipation we'd have each year for dusk to fall. Dad would have the barbecue going on one of those half barrel makeshift grills, laughing loud with his brothers all of them with soul brother picks in their enormous afros.

In our neighborhood, fireworks were legal. Yep. All of those sparks flew right in our driveways and on our streets. And all of us kids would run around barefoot all day long playing tag and waiting for the sun to finally, finally, finally disappear from sight. We called it "Firecracker Day" and, in a lot of ways, it was as wonderful as Christmas.

Yeah.

Those were very good times. Full of family and great memories. We'd extend it full into the weekend which made it all the better. Man. It was the best.

Well. My kids were on the west coast this year. And we were on the opposite side of the map. But that doesn't mean aren't still making it great. This Firecracker Weekend was as epic as ever. From coast to coast, baby.

Want to see it? Here it go.

Started off with an Atlanta tradition: The Peachtree Road Race. This is the world's biggest 10K and has the most amazing energy. I will always love the Peachtree because it was my very first real race. I began running in memory of my sister Deanna and I'll always have a special place in my heart for this and the Army Ten Miler since they were firsts.

Started out at 5AM with my go-to pre run fuel. Some sort of crunchy peanut or almond butter, a banana and coffee. Oh, and the "go go juice" (also known as Accelerade.) Ha.

Weather this year was unseasonably COOL which was fantastic. And even better--it wasn't raining like last year.

Next stop was the MARTA. MARTA is our public train system in Atlanta and everyone knows that if you are running a race with 65,000 other people that MARTA is smarta.

Mmmm hmmm.

Met up with by BFF/road dog Lisa D. which is always a blast.

But you know us Delta girls had to make an event out of it. One of my collegiate chapter sorority sisters arranged for us to get cool shirts with our chapter of initiation on it. Such a treat.

That last one was the "mean mug" shot. Don't we look bad ass? Ha. All of my girls ran strong and did our hearts good. Deanna would have been so proud of us. And especially hyped to see all of these Tuskegee Delta girls together.

After the race, Lisa's son (my godson) met us at the finish with Lisa's mom. Jackson and I took this picture which will go down as one of my all time favorites. It totally captures the relationship I share with him.

He asked, "Did you and Mommy win, Gigi?"

"We surely did," I told him.

He seemed to like that.

Thank goodness for grandparents. While mine were in LA with Poopdeck, Lisa's little boy stayed on with his nana. After the race, we made a "Thelma and Louise" decision and headed for a little-kid-free jaunt to the beach. My mom, brother, and some of his kids were already down there so they welcomed us to join.

And can I just say that I just LOVE the BHE because he values the fact that we both need to maintain our close friendships and that doing so takes time. It also takes a little sacrifice and "room" from your spouse. When we started kicking around going to the beach, Harry was awesome about it. The BHE and I didn't have big plans here plus he had a few business irons in the fire anyway. Him being so sweet about it made it just that much better.

So off we went! Girls' trip! Woot! Woot!

Just six hours later, we were floating in this inflatable raft and yucking it up in Florida.

The night was as magical as the July 4 nights of my childhood. The only difference was that Will (my brother) did the grilling on a gas grill and the fireworks that went off were on the beach instead of the block.

Yes. I said on the beach. Which we watched from the pleasant location of our deck. 

Way cool.

Some kids were actually involved. Just teenage ones. Here's me with my twin, aka my nephew David, who is now a rising senior in high school. (What the heck!?!) Once we got them to put down their cell phones, we played fun games together like "Thumper." We also played some other one that I forgot the name of. Essentially, the same games that involved adult beverages when we were in college but . . .uhh. . dry.
Who knew those games were fun on their own?

So that part was fun.

Here is my niece Tyler's All-American pedicure. I bet someone told her it was "fun." Which it sort of is.

I preferred to just tell her it was cute.

How about my All-American swim gear moment? (Really it was two separate pieces from a Target special, but it worked for Independence Day, man.) Flag sold separately.

Corny, I know.

Here's a snap from an awesome toast at dinner Saturday. Will, Lisa, my mom and me. We were at the "grown up table." Spirits could be found there. But no games were involved.

Oh yeah.

But what about my kids, you ask?

How awesome is it that THEY were on the west coast having the EXACT kind of Firecracker Day that I grew up having? Please note the bare feet and the fact the they are on my Dad's block. I guarantee you that there were all kinds of sparklers, rockets and spinners going off. And barbecue, too.

But no afro pick for Poopdeck these days for obvious reasons. I'm just sayin'.

They rounded up their weekend with an early morning hike in Baldwin Hills. How gorgeous is that?

Those stairs are SUPER steep. The boys took them with no problem. Grandpa said he needed the oxygen station.

Auntie JoLai did great on the stairs, of course. But she's the exercise guru. Of course this hike was her idea.

I still love Firecracker Weekend. For all of the same reasons, I do.

What did you all do for your weekend? What kind of traditions did you grow up with?

****
Happy Post Firecracker Weekend.

How can I not hear this on my mental iPod?



And for old school sake. . . . y'all don't know nothin' 'bout this here. (Unless, of course, your daddy had a afro pick in his hair and was grilling on the half barrel barbecue.)

Team S.J.G.R. Thursday Huddle #1

Do it for the story, man! And for the HEART!

Happy Firecracker Day, Team!

Man. So everyone knows that the 4th of July is a day of major temptation when it comes to the food balance thing. But summer months in general can be tricky because of the whole social-barbeque-imbibing vibe of it all. And seriously--who doesn't like cookout food?

Answer: Everyone likes cook out food when it's good.

And so, since we know that this time of year can knock us off of our mindful balance, we put our game faces on. Even during backyard barbeque season, heart disease does not go away. Since for all of us we know that S.J.G.R. we won't pretend like it does go away.

No, ma'am. No, sir.

But never fear, people! I'm not trying to be a wet blanket. I'm just suggesting that this be a day that we put our mindfulness in overdrive. Enjoy the cookouts but keep your S.J.G.R. awareness turned all the way UP!

In Atlanta, Independence Day is synonymous not only with food glorious food--it's especially the day we all associate with The Peachtree Road Race. The Peachtree Road Race has the distinction of being the world's largest 10K. It's super hard to get a number, but something about the Peachtree Road Race makes people want to get moving whether they're running it or not.

Guess what, you guys? This morning I was one of the lucky people with a number for 2013 Peachtree Road Race. Not because I had my act together enough to have made it in by the deadline but instead because my brother Will was kind enough to give me his! (Thanks, bro!)  

I was so, so happy. Happy because I'd get to tell you guys about it, happy because I'd get to do something nice for my heart,  and also super-happy because this would be my first official race of any kind--EVER.

Races make you a bona fide runner, y'all!

But then came the rain. Oh, the rain! Yesterday it started coming down and WOULD. NOT. STOP. In the forty-something years in the history of the Peachtree Road Race, never had there been this kind of rain forecasted for the start of the race. I kept checking the news and looking out of my window hoping and praying that "100% chance of thundershowers" meant something different than thundershowers.

I woke up this morning and--you guessed it--there were thundershowers. Booooo!!! Hisssss!!!!! I stood at the window staring at it coming down feeling myself feeling sad. I mean, first a stress fracture derails my half marathon training back in the winter and now rain sabotages my first race ever? 

Damn, universe.

I logged onto the race website and saw that, rain or shine, the show would go on. I looked on Twitter and saw all of the folks saying they were in no matter what. That kind of amped me up!

I sent a text to my race partner/sisterfriend Frieda early this morning. Frieda trained in Internal Medicine at Emory and was one of our Grady Chief Residents when I was in my second year on faculty. She stayed on for a few years as faculty and then moved on to be in a thriving private practice group in town. That move didn't stop the show for us, either. We've remained good friends ever since and had planned to run today's race together.

But that was before the rain. Grrrr.

One of the things I love about Frieda (who I affectionately call Free-Free) is that she's always down for an adventure. So my text to her said this:

"Hey Free-Free! It's raining cats and dogs! Here's the million dollar question--do we do it for the story? I say we DO IT FOR THE STORY, man!"

And guess what? Frieda aka Free-Free the free spirit was 100% game.

Frieda and I coincidentally had the same shoes--we took at as a sign to go for it!

And so. We met up at Frieda's house, walked the mile and a half to the start line, and away we went!

6.2 miles of heart-loving excitement. We laughed, sang and danced for almost the whole time. At one point we were singing John Cougar Mellencamp's "Jack and Diane" at the TOPS of our lungs. (Yes, cougars singing Cougar.)

We averaged an 11.5 minute mile the whole way--I was super proud of that for my first race ever. Woo hoo! We didn't give up--even on the notorious "heartbreak hill."

Even better? The rain let up--literally--from the start of the race until about 45 minutes after we crossed the finish. The monsoon restarted after we were cozy inside and rubbing our sore muscles and tootsies.

All of it was awesome. I did my best to focus on my heart the entire time. I also thought a lot about my sissy and all of you guys, too. I looked at her picture before I started and felt super charged up. This picture was taken exactly one year ago today on July 4, 2012.

I was also so, so happy to run into my sorority sister, Tamika W. at the finish line. Tamika and I both pledged at Tuskegee University and we are currently in the same alumnae chapter. AND she personally knew my sissy. I totally would have texted Deanna this photo which she would have promptly put on Facebook. Ha ha.

Gamma Tau Girls finished strong!

 Also one of Deanna's closest friends (also our sorority sister) did the race, too. Her name is Crystal H. and last week she texted me and told me that she was Team S.J.G.R. all the way! Here she is after the race. Look how strong she looks!

 

I sort of cried when I saw this picture of Crystal. And I'm sort of crying now just looking at it again. Deanna loved Crystal so so much. And she's been doing so many amazing things for her heart this year. This year Crystal ran THIRTEEN half marathons in 79 days. YES, y'all! S.J.G.R.!!! 

Sure, her body looks great but think about how happy this makes her coronary arteries! I'm so inspired by her--she's older than me and has an adult daughter, too.  Take that, heart disease! In yo' face!

But I deserve to eat WHATEVER I want, don't I?

After the race, I wanted FOOD! It's so tempting to want to eat everything in sight after a hard workout. You trick yourself into thinking that because you DESERVE IT that the realness has somehow gone on hiatus.

 It doesn't.

But thinking about my commitment to Team S.J.G.R. got my mind in the right place. I did indulge in some good food but I went through the process of balancing the treats with restraint. Harry and I had lunch at Houston's and we both turned down the spinach and artichoke dip which, if you have had that dip, is a very difficult thing to turn down. I knew that I wanted a glass of wine and that my favorite super-sized salad that I was ordering is covered with a peanut-based dressing that's fattening. I chose the wine and the salad. 

Another option could have been to have no wine, to eat half of the salad to allow some space for a dessert. But I wanted the whole salad and the wine. So that meant no to dessert. As for the dip? Hmmm. I guess I'll just say that I'm not sure for the amount of damage it would do that it made my worth-it list.

The BHE and I were talking about how we have to reprogram ourselves to stop eating at "satisfied." Neither of us were full after our meal so dessert was tempting. Since Harry is on the team, he was the one who helped nudge us away from the brownie/ice cream yumminess while I was the one who shut down the dip. The no's were gentle ones. Not guilty-smug-healthy-person ones. Gentle no-thank-yous.

THIS is what it's all about.

It's a rainy mess here so no cook outs or fireworks for us tonight. But I can say I remembered the fact that, even on 4th of July, SHIT IS STILL REAL.

How you guys doing so far? Check in TEAM S.J.G.R.!!  What did y'all do? How did it go? Successful? Epic Fail? Remember--failures are okay -- just dust yourself off and regroup. It's a work in progress.

***
Happy Birthday, America!


Now playing on my mental iPod. . . . Bab's Funny Girl classic was my anthem this morning.


And just picture two forty-something year-old moms running and singing this VERY loud and without a single drop of liquid courage! We were TURNED UP!

The Village People.

Dear Mommy and Daddy,

Having a nice time. Wish you were hear here.

Love,

Isaiah and Zachary

 ___________________________________________________________________________

 Picture it: Two little boys, one tireless and hard core granddad, and one fanny pack full of Chapstick, Band-aids, and snacks.  . . .

Next, picture this:

Four weeks of uninterrupted spoiling in California--far away from Mommy and Daddy.  One trip to Legoland on one day followed by one visit to the The San Diego Zoo the next day, divided by one San Diego hotel with two pools that of course, you can go swimming in at seven o'clock in the morning, of course you can--and that's just within the first three days.

Yep. It's that time of year again.

2009 - curbside service

"Camp PaPa" -- the west coast sleep away camp that includes front door child pickup, flight arrangements, reading lessons, haircuts, swimming lessons, and (on at least two occasions) 100% guar-own-teed potty-training-on-demand. Yep. Camp PaPa is as good as it sounds.

The best part of Camp PaPa, though, is that it includes hefty doses of the stuff that helped me to grow up feeling whole and alright with myself.  You know--all the stuff that makes you think that what you have to say is worth hearing and that your best effort is definitely worth giving because it can amount to something good.

This year is Camp PaPa 2011--the fourth year the boys have gone and the most special one to date.  Why is that, you ask? Simple. Isaiah is six and Zachary is almost five. I know for certain that it's the first one that they will both remember.

Sure, they'll see the pictures from the others, but this one? They will be able to see in clear sight. And yeah, that memory might be fuzzy and run into the other years, but you know? I'd say that's a good thing.

I just want them to remember. For themselves.

Camp PaPa 2011  - Legoland

Someone asked me, "Four weeks! Aren't you sad about them being gone for that long?"

My answer? "Kinda-sorta-but-not-really."

Firecracker day 2008

Lights out.

And that's the truth. Because I miss them yes, but honestly? I know it takes a village to raise a child and that my village was a good one. One of the most important parts of mine (my amazing mother) is less than thirty minutes north of Atlanta, so fortunately my kids get meaningful time with her on a regular basis. But I also know that one of the other most pivotal huts in that same village just happens to be more than 2,000 miles away in California and just happens to be that very unusual combination of willing, able. . . and trustworthy. So for the past four summers they've gone 2,000 miles to their grandfather's hut for the impact that only that kind of time can give. Which means, as a parent, sometimes you just have to be a little bit sad.

Kinda-sorta-but-not-really, that is.

Camp PaPa 2011

You know what else? If both living for forty and a half years and being a Grady doctor have taught me nothing else, it's taught me this:  Whether we like it or not, the village is ever-evolving. The village people come and sometimes, when we least expect it, they go. Morbid, I know, but true indeed. Yeah. When they do go, the best you can offer are stories under a shaded tree of who they were and what they taught and what they meant to the little village kids listening.

That relies on memories and experiences so rich in detail that with a little effort someone can weave into tales that bring them back to life. So that's why, if you can,  it's good to remember. For yourself.

My sweet mother-in-law lives in Cleveland and gets down here for wonderful visits when her work schedule allows. If I could move her to Atlanta, I so would, and---I am not kidding---would dance a jig if she were moving today. Because she, too, is a part of our village. . . .and of their village.

Harry's father passed away before I or our boys ever got the chance to know him. Aaaah, but the memories and the experiences Harry's father left behind? Priceless.  And thank God Harry has those memories. For himself. For his village. For theirs.

Learning to "skip rocks" -- Firecracker Day 2010

Sometimes those village people are living and are breathing and are still able to create their own stories.  They're right there in your face or up the road or on Skype or sometimes could be there but require planes, trains and automobiles to see and touch and know. And effort, too.

So, if it's important to you, you do it while you can. . . even if it means loosening the reins a bit and being a little bit melancholy on Firecracker Day. And you know what? It is important to me.

I hope someday it will be important to them, too.

I think it will.

Camp PaPa - 2010

 Yeah.  I guess I could be sad to be away from my kids on the fourth of July. But seriously? How can I be?

Just how?

Some fireworks never end.

May your day be filled with the richest of memories, with the brightest of fireworks and of course, with mischief of one kind or another.

***
Happy Firecracker Day, y'all.