Change of Heart

I've always had trouble with change. True to my astrological sign (if I believed in all of that nonsense) I often find myself mired in the past, forever looking over my shoulder at the good old days. Lest you think that my entry into AARPland has precipitated this sense of nostalgia, I can assure you that this is nothing new. From moving to breaking up, getting a new job to working with a new computer, I've never been all that crazy about shaking up my life.

I know there are people who thrive on this sort of thing, who welcome each challenge to their daily routine with open arms and a sense of adventure. To them I say, oh wait, I can't say that. Maybe I should just say, 'Congratulations' or, better yet, 'How the hell do you do it?'

I'd like to say that this rumination on dealing with life's changes was brought about by my current situation - letting go of my kids and moving on with part two of my adult life - but it was really provoked by something much more trivial. I just found out that my favorite pizza place is closing.

I know, I know. People are losing jobs, families are being forced out of their houses. The loss of a neighborhood pizza joint should be way down on the totem pole of life's problems. And it is. But you've got to understand. This was my go-to place whenever life got the better of me. This was the comfort food that could make it all better for the time it took to eat four or five slices. This was the place that my entire family had gathered for thirty years. Through the decades, we hoisted a variety of glasses while enjoying the tastiest pizza this side of Italy. We solved a lot of problems seated at those dark, laminated tables. We celebrated a lot of birthdays and victorious baseball games sitting on those rock-hard wooden benches.

Maybe that's why this change is going to be so tough. We not only need to find another place that makes phenomenal thin crust pizza, a difficult task in itself. We need to find another place to make some more great family memories.

Summer Nights

Just said goodbye to the parents after spending a wonderful day enjoying all the best things summer has to offer - firing up the grill, sitting out on the deck way past sunset, and indulging in fresh peach cobbler. As my dad said, heaven can't be much better than this. After living most of my life in Chicago, I'd have to agree. The length of the brutal winters only makes those of us crazy enough to live here a hardy bunch that appreciates and savors every minute of the shortest season of the year. We know it's going to be over before we know it and we're not about to let an opportunity to enjoy time in the warm sunshine slip away.

This holiday weekend, I was lucky enough to share two memorable gatherings - one with friends, one with family. One where I was a guest, one where I was the host. Two days ago, we shared the evening with friends we've been lucky enough to keep for thirty years. Today, I enjoyed the company of my amazing family and even got to share a prolonged meal with BOTH my kids. Granted, I'm for any holiday that involves plopping into the nearest comfortable lawn chair and imbibing in various cold drinks and endless excuses to eat. But this weekend was especially memorable. While we weren't motivated enough to get out of those lawn chairs and see the fireworks, we shared music, food and conversation with people we love without the interruption of television or cell phones. All we had was each other (and that peach cobbler) to keep us company.

I think my dad was right. It can't get too much better than that.