Holiday Reflections and the year in review....


Not getting enough of the snowstorms in Hungary, we headed
to Colorado for Kevin’s 40th Birthday with his twin brother. We had a big gathering of family and friends with
a tour and tasting at a local Fort Collins brewery. Kevin makes epic sandcastles that take all
day in Florida, so I was determined to make a sandcastle cake that took me all
day and lots of help. It required 6 different forms baked in two rounds, glued
together with cream cheese frosting and dusted with pulverized graham crackers,
sugar and toasted coconut as the “sand”.
Sugar cones made towers on top, and before I put the sand on it, the
white covered cones looked like a miniature Klan rally. Quick, get some color on the KKKake! The precarious confection was 18 inches
across and 18 inches high. I was sure I
would slip on the ice and launch my wobbly labor of love into a snow
drift. Though it was not the feat of
engineering that Kevin’s sandcastles are, it was a feat to arrive with cake
intact. The reaction to this monstrosity
was shock and awe. Kevin even ate a
piece, and he hates cake.
Everyone knows I love a party, and now I really had
something to celebrate. I had an End of
Chemo Party in February after a full year of Herceptin IV every 3 weeks. I was like I was let out of prison. I booked a private room in a friend’s bar in
Manhattan and brought my computer to play whatever I wanted. I was glad to see old friends, new friends, my college roommate
and many faces I had not seen in a while.
And they all bought me a drink. My
tolerance was shot so I didn’t last very long.
I was up at 8 am the next morning with a raging headache for a 10-hour
drive to Toronto to visit my friend Emma.
There was nothing that chicken-fried steak from Cracker Barrel and a
giant coffee couldn’t fix. We had
tickets to see our new favorite band The Beths from New Zealand, and my former NYC
roommate Doreen joined us. The big
question again is WHAT NOW? The crazy
thing about over a year of cancer treatment is it provides laser focus and purpose
because you are trying to LIVE, and live like you might die. NOW I have to go back to worrying about
normal stuff like getting a job and paying the bills. Now it’s clear I’ll be fine, what
do I want to be when I grow up?

I immersed myself in the non-profit work and was offered a
full-time job with the Florida Keys Community Land Trust. I had not been to the Florida Keys since the
90s and was now knee-deep in rebuilding from Hurricane Irma. They build
workforce housing, replacing housing that were destroyed with
hurricane-resilient homes. It’s a good
cause and I like the work and the team.
The founder Maggie Whitcomb is passionate about her mission and is very
hands-on. Just as soon as I’ve signed on
full time, there is a category 5 Hurricane headed STRAIGHT for Vero Beach. I am looking at the radar daily and it seems
to be getting worse. I’m not going to
stick around and wait to see what happens – I’ve got a PARTY to go to!
Emily, with whom I’ve been through many travels, is having
her birthday near Nashville, so we evacuate to Music City. We put the cat in the car and head
northwest. Emma is coming to town,
too! Emily, Emma, Kevin and I spent last
Christmas together and we’re reunited again in the little town of Ashland City. Emily has a band and we play music all night
long. We lost WATER at the house and headed
to The Dive Motel in Nashville, so it’s right up our alley. I reunite with my former band leader Bebe
Buell and her husband Jim, who is a friend of mine from college. The storm hung offshore of Vero Beach for 36
hours, then moved up the coast. It
washed away the beach but never hit town.
When the party and storm were over, we drove with trepidation back to
our boarded-up house. We hear reports about The Bahamas, which got it the
worst.

truckload to the hangar that needed to get to the island. Pilots would come with lists and the planes
would get loaded up again. There’s all
kinds of rumors and misinformation, reminding me of the hours and days after
9/11. Maggie went to the island and saw
the devastation first-hand, and brought two families back on a small plane. How do you do that for a weekend and go back
to your life? I was going to the hangar
for WEEKS. Operations were winding down when
I “reengineered” my finger, ending my box-lifting career. Back to my computer, which was also a challenge
with Frankenfinger. The disaster relief
was unique experience. My work gives me a
purpose other than saving my own life. I’m
sick of focusing on me. With my job, I’m
improving a community. Helping people
makes me happy.
Music also makes me happy.
In a trip up North for my quarterly tests, I performed selections from
the musical I’m helping produce, Rise and Shine, at Howl Happening Space in NYC. Though I can’t PLAY, I can sing, and tour
manage. Both The Dickies and Emma come
for Halloween. I scrap exploiting Frankenfinger
for a Bionic Woman costume, and Emma and I go full Gallagher Brothers (Oasis,
not watermelons).
I’ve seen more action in my little pinky this year than a
few people see in a decade. Moving into
2020, which sounds terrifying, it’s not, “What do I want to be when I grow up?”,
but who do I want to grow into being?
You lived in the land of disaster with the energy of those hurricanes. Fantastic work Lindsey, but I wouldn't expect anything less from you. What did you want to be? A SuperHero. Who do you want to grow into being? Can't wait to continue being a friend to that woman. I already love this one.
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