Rainbows, Slippers and Home

The Wizard of Oz terrified me when I was little. The witch. The munchkins. And most fearful of all, the evil flying monkeys. The tornado part never gave me much trouble since I didn't understand it and it only lasted for a minute or so on the screen. After my own little run in with a tornado, all the references to the Judy Garland classic film have been surprising. It's given a whole new meaning to the fright-fest from my youth.

For as much as I was scared of the movie, I've always loved the song 'Somewhere Over the Rainbow'. It's sadly beautiful, during a happier moment in The Wizard of Oz and featured in the end scene of one of my favorite movies, You've Got Mail. I figured the only attachment I would ever have to the song was it putting a smile on my face when it played on my iPod, but in the weeks after the tornado, several companies began selling t-shirts, posters and other items to help with rebuilding of Joplin. The one that spoke to the creative side of me the most was Moosylvania's Show Me Art - Show Me Hope screen printed posters. They were heartfelt, modern and a bit edgy. With the low price of $25 and all the proceeds going to the SW Missouri United Way, I studied all the styles wondering which one would mean the most to me. I kept coming back to the 'Somewhere Over the Rainbow' print because it didn't scream 'Tornado' but instead reminded me of a favorite song. It hangs proudly in my kitchen and symbolizes that someday these twister troubles will be far behind me.

The poster had been the first reference to The Wizard of Oz, but it wouldn't be the last.

Living in the hipster-mecca that is Williamsburg, Brooklyn, I should have had a pair of TOMS shoes years ago, but, for some unknown reason, I had never slipped on a pair. For my birthday in April, my sister surprised me with a stylish red pair that I rarely took off in the weeks after I unwrapped them. I was wearing them that fateful May evening. They went through a lot that day - soaked completely, covered in debris and quickly adapting to climbing shoes when I needed to get out (and in) the rubble. I didn't think much of them after the intense relief I felt when I was able to remove them and replace them with dry shoes (albeit two sizes too big shoes from my cousin's girlfriend but dry nonetheless). The red TOMS were thrown in the washer along with all the other clothes and items we salvaged from the house. They came out a little more weathered and worn, but we all were a bit weathered and worn at that point. Two weeks after the tornado, I headed back to New York in my red slip-ons. I wore them to the office that week and bragged about them being my lucky shoes. More than one co-worker deemed them 'my ruby red slippers.' Wizard of Oz reference #2. Love it.

The last and most recent reference is a very personal one. 'I wish I were home.' Of course, I wish I could return to my childhood home, but, more, I wish to be in Missouri with my family. Living so far away from them has always been difficult and heartbreaking, and over the years it hasn't gotten any easier. Throw in a natural disaster that puts things into perspective, and New York City just doesn't have the same luster it did years ago when I first decided to move here. After giving it lots of thought, I've made the painful yet exciting decision to move back closer to my family. In a few short months, I'll be leaving my favorite city for my favorite people, and I'm okay with that. Just wish it was as easy as clicking my heels a few times...

New House, Same Christmas

I just returned from my three-week-long holiday trip to Missouri, and it was better than expected. I had been dreading the holidays for months knowing that the comforts and traditions of holidays past would be gone or at least extremely altered. I had grown accustomed to my Christmases being largely the same and rather uneventful each year. The decorations, music and food hadn't changed much since my first Christmas way back in 1983. (The picture at left is from my second Christmas when I was looking all boyish in my cropped hair and saddle shoes.) Any differences were slight and gradual. The tree's location had moved a few times and it had gotten considerably smaller over the years, but my mom had always kept the large assortment of sentimental and handmade ornaments. For years, I had dreamt of a stylish color-themed tree with large glass bulbs and sparkly garland and this year with all of our ornaments gone, that is exactly what we had. As pretty as it was and being what I had always wanted, it was fine, but I was surprised to be missing the tree with all of its ornaments of memories.

I can still remember the Christmas that my dad unwrapped Home Alone. It must have been in 1991, a year after the film's theatrical release. We took it to my mom's side of the family that day, and we all watched it while my Uncle Zip snickered at the smart little guy the whole time. Twenty years later, that movie is still a Christmas staple for me. Within the first few days I was home, I tossed the DVD into my parent's Target cart and after an hour of trying to figure out how to plug the DVD player into their television, all three of us were watching (and snoring through) Kevin's hi-jinx. Some things will just never change!

My parents moved into their new house in October, and this was the first time I was able to see it with them and their things in it. The house is beautiful and seeing my parents moving on happily put my mind at ease. It is going to take me a bit before I am able to call this house 'home'. Everything is still a bit too shiny, new and foreign to me. After three weeks, I was still lost in the kitchen opening multiple drawers and cabinets in order to find a frying pan. My room is about a third of the size of my old one and, at the moment, devoid of anything that really makes it mine. The bed is fluffy and almost too comfortable helping me believe that this place might be a hotel all the more. In the first couple of days I was home, I broke down crying wishing for our old home. There is really no going back, and I'm still coming to terms with that fact. Shiny and new are nice and exciting, but sometimes you just want to go home to the room and bed and Christmas tree you've always known.