I can’t believe it’s been nearly 5 months since I left Oakland. And while I know there haven’t been a lot of posts in that time, I promise there has been a whole lot of living. I’ve survived living in a tiny house on wheels, visited many new places within a smallish geographical location, dealt with sickness, sadness, and homesickness, made new friends, fell in love with a city, fell in love with someone, had adventures and misadventures, and learned so much about myself in the process. I know I have a lot of stories to write, but the one I find myself writing now is what is happening at this moment.

Tomorrow, the Chinook and I are heading back to the Bay Area. If you read my guest post as part of Torre DeRoche’s Love and Travel Week on Almost Fearless, then you know I’m really missing loved ones.  So you can imagine that after all of this time, I’m so excited I don’t know how I’ll make it the 11+ hour drive without jumping out of my seat. But at the same time…

I’m scared

You see, the timing of this trip isn’t random.  On Tuesday, if everything goes well, and I want it to go well, a couple with a newborn baby will be handed the keys to the first house I ever co-owned. The house that I sank countless hours of sweat and love into (while documenting it all), made first-house memories in, and that I left thinking Francisco would be able to keep. Sure, I left our house willingly in January, but it’s so much harder to imagine neither of us being there anymore. And on Friday, I’ll sign what’s left to sign, and it will become the property of strangers on Tuesday.

I’m also saying another farewell to Francisco, and I don’t know when I’ll see him again. With the house being sold, he has decided to leave the Bay Area and travel as well. Unlike in so many instances where there’s an amicable split, we won’t be in the same town to get coffee every now and then or have one of us be in a static spot the other can visit. As much as I know our split was the right decision for both of us, and we’ve both moved on, ten years is still a really long time with someone, and I’ll miss him. In many ways I already do. In this time since I left, we’ve been in contact via email nearly every day, communicating about the house with our broker, and with that process coming to an end, I know that will too.

And then there’s my stuff. If you’ve followed my blog for a while, you know that when I moved out, I left a lot of things behind, and then I further downsized before taking off in June. What is left, are either sentimental things I don’t want to part with, or things I didn’t have the emotional strength to deal with then. But now I think it’s time.

There are my rings- my 1920’s diamond engagement ring- the most beautiful ring I’ve ever seen, the vintage ring box Francisco bought for it, and my 1920’s wedding band that are occupying space in a safe deposit box. It’s time to let them go to someone else now, and yet as certain as I am of that, I can’t imagine making it so.

And then there is my wedding dress. The one my former sister-in-law, a famous fashion designer, made especially for me. The one I flew to Buenos Aires alone to have made while I stayed with my in-laws and studied Spanish in the month leading up to our wedding. I can’t imagine ever wearing it again, so why keep it? And yet, I don’t know how I’ll hand it over to anyone.

I’m also clearing out my storage locker and loading the Chinook with the rest of what I own and bringing it back to Portland, where I can scan my photos, further downsize, process, and heal.

So, as excited and happy as I am to see those I love and miss so much, I’m just as scared to make this trip. It’s so strange to think that what I’m afraid to see for the first time in 5 months- Francisco, my house, and my things- I’m even more afraid to never see again. All I can do is muster all my emotional courage and take off with the intention of handling everything in the kindest, most genuine, honest way I know how, and to enjoy every minute with my friends. And who knows, maybe I’m stronger than I think.

My vintage drum set sat, mostly neglected, for the better part of ten years. It had been an untimely purchase, when I moved up to the Bay Area at the start of my first year at U.C. Berkeley. Had I asked, any Berkeley alum would have told me that unless I planned to use it as a multi-tiered desk for all the work to come, that drum set would hold no use for me within weeks. That the set would merely serve as a sweet memory of the time my new friend Francisco took me to Sam Adato’s drum shop and gave me two timbale drum sticks tied with clipped dread locks to celebrate my purchase.

When it came time to sell everything to travel, my drums were emotionally easy to let go of in the first round of purging. I put an ad on Craigslist and within a few hours, I had two responses from the same person “Hi, can I come pick-up your cool drum set?” and the second, “P.S. I can come over at your convenience with cash and no B.S.” I called the number listed immediately but with suspicion. I didn’t expect it to be so fast and easy. I thought I’d be lucky to get any response and if I did, that I’d never get the price I wanted, especially considering the wealth of drum sets available on Craigslist. In fact, I believe I said something like, “I’m never going to get that price. I’ll be lucky not to have to donate them.”

So when “Don” answered the phone and offered me an extra $40 to deliver the set a ten-minute drive away, I had to ask. “I’m sorry, but this seems too good to be true. Do you always keep hundreds of dollars lying around the house in case you want to buy something sight unseen?” He replied with a laugh, “No! I have to find a cool vintage kit today. Do you know the band Romeo Void? You know…” The voice in my head was in synch with his voice as he said “Never Say Never” and mine went on to add “A Girl in Trouble (Is a Temporary Thing).” Was he kidding? My drum set was going to a band with these titles as hits from the 80’s?? Ha! “Never say Never” is right.  Within a few hours of listing the set, my drums were property of great new owners.

I relayed this news to my friend Lia Rose, and half-jokingly told her that in honor, I would call my round the world trip the Never Say Never Tour, as a reminder that you never really know what life (or you) will throw your way. You can imagine my surprise when we went to see a movie soon after and the trailer for Justin Beiber’s documentary by the same name popped onto the screen. I never imagined that he and I would have so much in common.

A big lesson for me has been learning to put never in its place. Here are some ways I do:

Never let what could be an expired definition of yourself limit your future

If I held on to the definition of myself as a student who graduated 465th out of a high school class of 495, I would never have dared to go back to school and ultimately graduate with a 3.95 G.P.A. from U.C. Berkeley. This is true of countless things in my life, and I’m guessing yours as well. We don’t arrive at our fully formed adult selves- we are constantly growing and changing, even if we don’t give ourselves enough credit for it. Once upon a time I was too insecure to go the mall without a friend. Now I’m a solo world traveler.

Never doubt that life can out-perform your expectations

I never expected to be the recipient of free flight benefits when I hatched a plan to travel the world. And I had a very different plan to travel around the country in the months leading up to the time they become active. I had a loose plan to do 22 stops in 26 weeks. Life handed me a better plan- period. And I’m so grateful I was open to it.

Never let naysayers set the limits on your life

Anyone, who upon listening to your plans, says that they will not likely or will never work out as you’ve dreamed, should be seen, as having limited imagination- NOT privileged foresight. Simply say to yourself, or directly to them, “those are your limits, not mine.”

I cannot tell you how many times I’ve proved the naysayers in my life wrong. I’ve watched them shake their heads when I moved to L.A. to become an actress, when I moved to New York City with $700 to my name, when I devised my plan to return to school. It’s come to the point where I can honestly say that I believe in myself more than I believe in them. If you’re not already there, I strongly urge you to work on that. YOUR life- the version you want to live- depends on it.

One of my favorite quotes is-

Whatever you can do, or dream you can, begin it.
Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it.
-Goethe

One year ago, my To Do List certainly did not include get a divorce, sell everything, move in to a 45 square foot house on wheels, sell my house, start a loosely planned North American road trip, make it as far as stop #3, fall in love with a place, fall in love with a person (more on that later), and restructure said loose plan…but I’m also much happier now than I was last year. Point being? Give more weight in your decision making to your instincts than what you said or thought you’d do…and never say never…you may find more happiness than you can imagine.

How do you give never the middle finger? How have you triumphed over self-doubt or expired versions of yourself? You know I love to learn from you! Tell me about it!

Image used under Creative Commons: Birthday Cake by Will Clayton

It’s the roamantics’ birthday! It’s hard to believe it was two full years ago that I leapt out of bed in the middle of the night and purchased the domain that would turn into this site…but not right away. The best of intentions turned into three short posts the following week to family and friends during a trip to Vietnam, and then…silence. But then one year ago, on July 14, 2010, I started blogging regularly, through what’s been a hugely transformative year in my life and the life of this blog.

So when Mike and Lucy from 1000 Places to Fight Before You Die nominated me to participate in Tripbase’s My 7 Links project, I thought it would be a great way to celebrate the past year and highlight some older posts that new readers may have missed.

Tripbase asks each blogger who participates, to provide a link to a post for each of seven categories they’ve chosen. I’m mixing it up just a little by changing the order I list them in, so that readers will travel through these posts in chronological order, getting little snippets of this year of my life and blog as things happened. Just click on the post titles below to read each.

So since it’s a birthday party, let’s get the party started with a post about my birthday suit shall we?

A post you feel didn’t get the attention it deserved

First Nude Solo Getaway- Conquering a Fear

I had this experience during the one-month separation leading up to my split with my partner of ten years, and I’ll be writing more on this in future posts. I felt this one could have received a little more “exposure” don’t you?

Your most helpful post

How to get a Good, Safe Tattoo Abroad

My ex and I took a trip to Rarotonga in September and it inspired me to write this detailed how-to. I’m proud to call it a must-read for anyone considering ink.

A post whose success surprised you

Out of the Mouths of Babes: Travel Lessons

There’s a saying that goes “No man is a friend, no man is an enemy, every man is a teacher.” I learned a few things from some tiny “men” in my life during my separation, and it was a hit.

Your most beautiful post

Squatting in Sihanoukville, Cambodia

Having just split, this post was a birthday tribute to a happier birthday past. I chose it as most beautiful for the sentiment, the writing, and the photos.

The post that you are most proud of

And Then There Was One

I’m most proud of this post on so many levels. First, I’m proud that I had the courage to change the course of my life after ten years when I was deeply enmeshed but it wasn’t working anymore. Second, I started this blog because I wanted to get over my intense fear of putting my solo creativity on display, as I’d avoided doing so by being a creative collaborator my whole life. With this post, I took my boldest creative leap ever (to me) at the most emotionally difficult time possible. I’m proud of that! Third, I’m proud of the blogging community & readers for demonstrating what incredibly supportive, compassionate, thoughtful, inspirational, and kind people you are through the comments on it. So glad to be among you!

Your most popular post

Cute + Green = Creen! Buying a Creen House on Wheels

Newly single, I cooked up a plan for my first big solo adventure, an epic road trip with an eco-minded, minimalist twist… and the support for my tiny new life was huge!

Your most controversial post

The Vancouver Riot- Thoughts and Photos

I don’t really write extremely controversial posts, but on my first stop on my road trip, I experienced a massive riot that had me reflecting on how negative experiences can color our perceptions of places. For some the riot did that, for me…


It was quite a year. I learned how to tweet, to make a blog, endured a breakup of a long-term marriage, made genuine friends, learned from, got inspired by and processed through this blog, received and offered support, overcame enormous fears through it, sold everything, made a new home on wheels, and now I’ve started sharing my biggest dreams in life- I’ve taken off to travel indefinitely with this blog. I can’t wait to see what roam antics this year holds and I really hope you’ll stick around to find out as I do. We’re just getting started! Now let’s eat some cake while these awesome bloggers I’m nominating put together their 7 links. Cheers and Thanks so much!

Locationless

One Step 4ward

35 Summers

A Cruising Couple

Quirky Travel Guy

But I also drew a lot of support from you- my readers here. As I’m sure you understand, getting affirmation when you make steps toward your dreams is a huge boost on the best of days, and on the worst, may be just what you need to keep making those steps.

One unique bit of affirmation came on the first day of selling my things, when my friend Natalie and I brought my vintage clothing to Mercy Vintage. I was nervous to make this step- it made everything I’d talked about doing REAL. I was actually going through with this idea of mine, and BLOGGING about it. I found a parking space right in front of the store, but the parking meter wasn’t working. I took a chance and parked there anyway. I felt really relieved when the first pile of clothing was gone and I was leaving the store with a nice chunk of change. Walking back to the Chinook, Natalie said “Oh, there’s something on your windshield!” To which I replied “Crap! I got a ticket!” but she countered, “No, it looks like a note!” I grabbed the note and read it aloud-

the note is unaltered, but i digitally removed a bank logo from the envelope

We looked at each other with eyes wide and jaws dropped, and then excitedly talked over each other in a flurry of “Oh my God!” “Holy Cow!” “That’s so awesome!” “Are you freakin’ kidding me?!” “He recognized the Chinook from my blog post photos?!” “Okay, which one of my friends is fucking with me?!” “No Lorna, they wouldn’t do that, it’s real!” “I wish he left an email or something to thank him!”

It was the most amazing feeling, and such a perfectly timed and played gesture, unbeknownst to the person giving it. I was overwhelmed by the project at hand (getting rid of EVERYTHING), by the thought of the anniversary I wouldn’t be celebrating coinciding with my yard sale just two days away, by self-doubt over what I was choosing to do with my life (the self-doubt being a reflection of some recent criticism by others, not of my instincts), and I was feeling the weight of months of stress and enormous change.

In what certainly took less than a minute of Dave’s life, he was able to give me affirmation that would brighten my day and echo through the days since. Think about that- less than a minute’s effort resulting in minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, of encouragement.

Thank you Dave- whoever you are- for taking the time. I’m paying this forward. In the days since this note, I’ve made a more concerted effort to regularly, sincerely offer support to others. And now, dear readers, I’d like to encourage you to pass it on as well, and I’ve come up with some suggestions for how we can do so in less than a minute. What I’m calling The 1 Minute Project:

Facebook-

• Write a couple of lines on a friend’s wall to “publicly” acknowledge something great they’re doing or recently did.
• Share a link to a creative project someone’s working on, on your wall with a short endorsement.
• Go through your Like suggestions, like someone’s page and tell them on their page wall what you like about the project.

Email-

• Send a short email to someone- just a couple of lines- about how you’re grateful for something specific they’ve done for you, or how something they’ve created makes you feel.

Phone-

• Pick up the telephone and call or text to leave a short thoughtful message to let someone know you’re thinking of them.

Blogs or Websites-

• Write a brief comment to let the writer know what you liked about their post, or the site in general.
• Use their contact form to send them an email.

Twitter-

• Write a personal endorsement of someone for #FollowFriday
• Tweet at or about someone to remark on something you appreciate in them or their work. Feel free to use the hashtag #1minuteproject so we can all follow the goodness!

Whatever you choose to do, any of the above, or something entirely different, just be sincere. Put into brief action- less than a minute- the things you think but don’t normally take the time to say. Thoughtfulness is contagious- let’s pass it on!

How will you use your minute? Has someone made your day, or more, in less than a minute? Tell me about it! Have your own blog or site? Feel free to write your own 1 Minute Project post to inspire others.

When I moved out in January, I left most of the furniture without a second thought. The vintage telephone table I’d scoured shops, antique fairs, and Craigslist for months to find. The limited edition art deco coffee table I’d managed to get a screaming deal on. The 100% natural latex mattress with the organic cotton and wool cover that I’d fought to make a priority. I left them all and much of the contents of our 2.5 bedroom house…and I was ready to.

But right then, when I was giving up so much- my house, stuff, partner, and the neighborhood I loved, I wasn’t ready to give up everything. My music collection-the records- many of which I’d had since I was in elementary school, my books- I even had my Judy Blume books- all the material evidence of my life that I’d managed to hold onto in spite of moving at least every three years for my whole life. I couldn’t decide what to keep and what to get rid of while dealing with grief.

So instead, I went through every piece of paperwork in the house, shredded anything I didn’t have to keep, and recycled it. I went to local liquor stores and got a bunch of used beer boxes to pack my things, and moved everything I wanted to deal with later to my friend’s garages. And that was grueling enough.

But it seemed that minimalism took on a life of it’s own. Like if I wasn’t going to deal with my stuff, it was going to deal with me. During one rainstorm, my friend Josh’s garage ceiling collapsed and while none of my stuff was destroyed, it did need cleaning up, and couldn’t be put back. Less than two weeks later, in a separate storm, Leslie’s garage flooded and boxes of my books and some clothes were ruined. I got the message. I couldn’t just park this stuff, take off, and come back to deal with it later like I’d started to think I might. Hmm…

So when Leslie suggested the yard sale date of April 30^th, what would have been my 5-year wedding/10-years together anniversary, I was ready…ish. In an attempt to do better than yard sale prices, I listed items on Craigslist with photos the week leading up to the sale. I took my books to a used bookstore called Moe’s in Berkeley. I sold my vintage/used clothes and shoes to resellers Mercy Vintage in Piedmont, Crossroads Trading Co., and Buffalo Exchange. I may have made more money selling on Ebay, but I wanted to avoid items being shipped (not as green, although you can buy carbon off-sets). Fortunately, I’d already made a pretty penny while knowing my stuff would have more local life, before yard sale day even came.

It took three yard sales on a busy street (Leslie’s) in Oakland, individual item Craigslist ads linking to yard sale posts, and amazing friends, neighbors, and strangers, for nearly all my stuff to sell. In the end I donated all of my leftover books to the Longfellow Community Association (a neighborhood group I co-founded with Leslie) for their White Elephant Sale this summer. I sold all my leftover CDs and cassettes to a music store, Rasputin in Berkeley, and donated leftover clothing and miscellaneous items to Goodwill. I used a drop box and donated all my underwear, socks, things that can’t be re-worn by others and usually get thrown out to USAgain- a for-profit business that sells them to textile recyclers for use as filling. All of my empty, already recycled boxes were put in the recycle bin or given to a friend for her move.

With everything out of both my friend’s garages, I spent the last week before my June 8^th departure going through every single thing I had left and vetting it for importance. Most of what I now own is important paperwork, things from my Grandmother, and printed photos, and a few things I just didn’t have time to recycle properly as my conference deadline loomed. Knowing I had too much to ship and store at my Mom’s, I hunted for the smallest, most eco-friendly storage unit I could find. I was so excited to find that Point Richmond Self-Storage, in Richmond, CA., not only had the smallest, most affordable units – 4’w x 3’d x 4’h lockers- but that they are also powered by solar electricity. The owners also are partners in other facilities in other parts of the U.S.

Me, in front of my locker, in my Together for Japan t-shirt

I feel pretty happy with the approach I took and the voraciousness with which I downsized. I feel lighter and am happy knowing that others are enjoying the things I was ready to let go of, and very little, if anything, ended up in the landfill. My one regret is that I couldn’t find a more eco-friendly, waterproof (I’ve learned my lesson!) alternative to the two 22-gallon plastic tubs I’m using to store my most treasured items. My goal is to return to the Bay Area between my road trip and international trip and scan all my photos and paperwork to further reduce my footprint, and then move that extremely tiny footprint to my Mom’s place while I travel the world…lightly.

me, with everything I own that's not along for the road trip

Have suggestions for living and traveling lighter? More eco-friendly? Waterproof alternatives to plastic tubs? Love your comments as always!

I couldn’t believe my luck. Sure, it was love at first sight when I saw the Chinook, but partly because I could see passed the 1976 veneer to what could be- a much hotter little earlier-vintage-styled number. And in spite of the fact that I have painted the interior and exterior of my house, have ripped up carpets, sanded and installed floors, installed a toilet and sink, made furniture, roto-tilled soil, smashed and removed concrete- you name it, with my own hands- I did not have the bandwidth to take on a first-time do-it-yourself project alone with all that I had to do to get ready for my road trip. At best I was hoping to do it along the way or get a sponsor to do it.

But I didn’t have to, and the Chinook would be better for it! After a few email exchanges and meeting in person, it was clear that Camille was right, that I had the perfect partner in crime- someone who shared my love of rat rods, and had the skills to transform the Chinook. And the cool surprise? Anjel and her husband Connal write a travel blog! They’ve had some pretty fantastic adventures like traveling the world for over a year, clocking many of those miles on their motorcycles. Checkout their site 35 Summers to learn what they’ve done and about the foundation they’re starting- it’s amazing.

And what became of the Chinook is pretty darn amazing too!

Here are some photos of the process:

Anjel and I suited up and ready to go (photo by Connal Hughes)-

Anjel using an eraser to get rid of the trim line-

Sanding, and removing the raised Chinook logo (photo by Connal Hughes)-

A little Nevr-Dull on the hubcaps makes ‘em shine-

A wire brush drill bit removes sharp peeling chrome-

Anjel carefully taping off lines for the stripes-

Starting to paint the grates-

I stuck to the prep and rims and let Anjel handle the expert stuff. Doing the primer-

Finally- Paint! My goal? Make it match my lips –

Um, yeah, I may have slept in this strange creature that night-

Ready for some before and after magic??

Cheers! That’s victory wine in there…we should have worn dresses!

Amazing right? I’m so grateful to Anjel for volunteering her time and skills, to Connal for helping so much behind the scenes, and to Via and Chris for lending us their driveway…for days…and for meeting new friends to share traveling adventures with. Thanks to them, I can take my road trip in style. And to think, it only took a couple hundred bucks, some sweat and a few days…and Anjel’s mad skills. What do you think? Like it? Ready to hire Anjel to pimp your ride? To tackle your own DIY project? Now just wait til I get my hands on the interior…

We finished a great dinner, walked back into the quiet street, and in what seemed like one turn of a corner everything changed. Black smoke in the sky led to smashed windows, two overturned cars, riot police, an anxious yet curious crowd, fire engines, tear gas, and relatively controlled (at that time) chaos.

I wasn’t scared. Blame it on the fact that I lived in Los Angeles during the riots, that until last Wednesday I spent much of the last decade living in Oakland during riots, and more recently in a neighborhood where I heard gun fire from my house occasionally…too occasionally. Or maybe it’s the fact that I’m a filmmaker- it felt surreal, like I was watching a film.  Even as the first wave of tear gas caught in my throat and felt like someone took sandpaper to it, I just looked on with intense curiosity. I’m sure it would have been different had we been there just a few moments earlier.

My fellow travel blogging friends and I were in various states of concern and determination to get home. Jeannie and I learned that buses and cabs were no longer running, hitched a ride across the Burrard Bridge to the Chinook which was safely parked in the Kitsilano neighborhood, and I drove her home without a problem.

Every place has incidents. And my love for places- especially my beloved Oakland, where there are frequent incidents- has made me less likely to judge a place by them. I think about my perception of Vancouver before the riot started- how incredibly beautiful it is, its focus on local products and environmentally sound practices, its friendly people, how even the bus drivers are exceedingly nice- serving as ambassadors to their city. And I think about all of the times I’ve told someone I live in Oakland and had to defend my choice to live there by explaining how amazing a place it truly is in spite of the problems caused by a handful of residents.

Waking up the next day to find that a massive volunteer group had cleaned up the city and left messages of remorse over the rioting, including leaving notes of appreciation for their local police department on a police car, only confirmed my opinion of Vancouver- that it’s a fantastic place best seen through a prism like that, rather than judged by a riot.

For a beautifully written local’s perspective on the riot, please read Jeannie’s post here. Have you witnessed something like this while traveling? At home? How did it shape your opinion of the place?

Image used under Creative Commons: Red pin on a US map by alegri

In just a few hours part one of my big adventure finally begins! It’s hard to believe that it was already four months ago that I went on a much shorter adventure to buy the tiny RV that will now take me on a much bigger journey. So much has happened in that time- I feel like I’ve been living in 5^th gear and often joke to friends that while I have no problem with that personally, I wish it would at least slow down enough for me to write about it more often. The last few weeks have been especially packed, with tying up loose ends in all areas of my life and down-sizing my belongings to next to nothing.

So what is this big adventure I have planned (well, sort of) and am rushing toward? I’m going on a solo, everyone-I-know tour of the U.S. and Canada in the Chinook for the next six months.

I’m starting with the TBEX (Travel Blog Exchange) Conference in Vancouver this weekend (June 10-12, which explains the rush!) And then I’m following the sun- yet another reason for leaving sooner than later- to see loved ones. I’ve had a huge year with lots of changes, and seeing loved ones I haven’t seen in quite a while and enjoying some sunshine before taking off for my round the world trip in 2012 sounds perfect.

My tentative plan is to do a clock-wise loop of the U.S., dipping into parts of Canada for TBEX and to visit family, and ending up in Arizona in December to spend the holidays with my Mom, Brother, and his/our family. I’ve got 22 places and 26 weeks.

Even through the exhaustion I’m excited. There is so much about this trip that’s new for me. I grew up in New England and have lived my whole adult life in California aside from a year and a half in New York, but I haven’t seen most of what’s in between. The longest solo trip I’ve been on was to Paris for 9 days when I was twenty-six. The longest road trip I’ve taken was a few days with a band in a veggie-oil fueled RV from Oakland to SXSW (Austin).

I’m not ready, but I’m ready.

I haven’t done the research I normally would have, which generally isn’t much, but still, there are things I’ve surely forgotten that I’ll need, and there are plenty of things I know I wanted to do, but didn’t get to. But you know what? It doesn’t matter. I’ll figure it out as I go and that will just become part of the excitement. What I’ve learned from traveling as much as I have so far is that I only ever think I have things sorted anyway, and some of the most fun adventures happen when I let life inform my plans. So for this one, I’m going to relax, be whimsical, follow my instincts and let the adventure unfold.

Got favorite places you think I should see? A particular route you’ve taken and loved? Going to TBEX? Let’s hear it!

I don’t really know how my Mom got so gutsy. She grew up in a beautiful tiny town called Hemmingford, forty-five minutes south of Montreal, where she graduated with six students in her class- a point my brother and I learned after she’d told us repeatedly how she graduated 2^nd in her class and we finally thought to inquire further.   But more importantly she was really sheltered- couldn’t ride a bike until she was eleven, couldn’t go anywhere without her brothers, and went to a small all girls college, all at the insistence of my Grandpa. And her family didn’t travel, except to rent a summer camp at nearby Lake Champlain. By all accounts she was raised to be afraid to do a lot of things on her own, even in her small corner of the world, and to fear people who were different from her family.

But my Mom had wanderlust, and at twenty years old eloped with my Dad and moved nearly 3,000 miles away to Los Angeles. And she didn’t subscribe to the shoulds and shouldn’ts- by the time I was two months old, we were on a plane from L.A. to Montreal to meet my family.

Within six years, my Mom was divorced with full custody and financial responsibility for my younger brother and I. Living in New England allowed us to remain in the States, but be closer to family. We lived in diverse Portland, Maine neighborhoods where my Mom, and also we, made an equally diverse group of friends. The open-mindedness my Mom modeled was in stark contrast to my Grandpa’s opinions…and I don’t think by accident.

Each Christmas she would pack up my brother and I and all the family presents, and make the often harrowing 5-7 hour drive through the slick mountainous roads so that we could spend the holidays with our family in Hemmingford. She was a young, solo female traveler, with two small, rambunctious kids in tow and she never gave any indication that this was anything but normal.  I know it wasn’t easy during those years she was with us alone, but she was resourceful, so we were able to have great experiences on a tight budget.

When she and my step-dad met, we began a series of moves every few years for his career. I’ve perpetuated that in my adulthood and have a huge appreciation for how much harder it must have been with a family of four. Growing up in this way taught me how to deal with change, and to let go of material things I don’t need.

There are times when I’ve wished I’d grown up differently. Without the financial struggle, the divorces, the moves, but these days I realize that all of that, or more aptly how my Mom handled all of that taught me such valuable lessons for where I am right now.

Four years ago, a week after my Mom had a subarachnoid hemorrhage, we celebrated Mother’s Day in a neurological intensive care unit. We actually felt so grateful to be able to celebrate, and were even more grateful when within two months, my Mom made a full recovery. Mother’s Day has had even more meaning to me since then.

Happy Mother’s Day Mom! I love you! Thank you for, through your own actions and words, making me feel like I can do anything I put my mind to…even the “crazy” stuff. Whenever I get scared, I’ll think of you and your fearlessness.

Linda was diagnosed with breast cancer a few years after we met, had surgery, went through treatment, and lost her hair. And in spite of giving it everything she had, of having a troop of her own cheerleaders, and amazing doctors who tried everything they could, she lost the battle at only 32 years old. She left an indelible mark on many hearts, including mine.

A few of years ago I began growing my hair to donate in honor of Linda to Pantene Beautiful Lengths. They create wigs for women who have lost their hair due to cancer treatments.  But I have to confess that as life got hard, my hair became a security blanket of sorts and I’ve had a hard time letting it go, or even cutting it. It seems out of character- I’m a gal who’s shaved/cropped her hair twice, has had every color and length of hair, often short, and yet here I am rivaling Crystal Gayle in the name of security. But then again, I think it speaks to exactly why it’s important for me to donate. As Pantene states on their site: “A real-hair wig allows a woman to look in the mirror and at least see a familiar face while she fights to regain a sense of normalcy in her life.” My challenges don’t have to be as big as battling cancer for me to relate to the idea that sometimes it’s not “just hair.” And in the end I think I can help someone and still feel like myself…perhaps even more like myself.

So I made an appointment for yesterday, Earth Day. I thought the day was a good one, as by donating my hair (recycling!) I’ll use less water and hair products, which also means less waste or recycling of hair product bottles. This Crystal Gayle impersonator has some atoning to do after all.

So here’s how it went:

My awesome hair stylist Tracy whom I- ahem- hadn’t seen in awhile, measured my hair and then snipped off some split ends

She added a hair band (donated hair must be bound) making sure there was at least 8 inches of hair beneath it

Whack! Tracy made the cut above the hair band

Voila! 9 inches of hair ready to donate

I got to check out my new do after just a little more snip snip, wash, and blow dry

Then I went to an Earth Day birthday party, where friends and I wished the new owner of my hair a full and speedy recovery and a long, happy, healthy life.

There are a handful of organizations you can donate hair to, but I chose Pantene Beautiful Lengths because they provide women’s wigs free of charge to the American Cancer Society, who also provides resources and emotional support. They felt like the best fit for honoring Linda. Their minimum ponytail donation length is 8 inches (other organizations range from 8-12 inches) and you don’t have to be a woman to donate.

It felt so good to do, I really wish I hadn’t waited so long, and I’m sure I will do it again. And it doesn’t take nearly as much as you might think. For example, donating another 8-inch ponytail now would still leave me with a chin-length bob.  In other words, you don’t have to have Crystal Gayle hair to donate.

So what do you think? Ready to shed 8 inches or more? Or maybe you already have? Tell me about it!