Dispatch From the Shed

Revisiting

re·vis·it

verb

gerund or present participle: revisiting

come back to or visit again.

consider (a situation or problem) again or from a different perspective.

As we get older, we may revisit places and people from our past, which can often be delightful. Sometimes it is our choice to do so, other times not so much. Those seem to be the times the universe wishes to teach us some kind of lesson. Where maybe we need to go when we are lost and need to be found.

When I was in my 30s, married with a young child, my ex and I, both social workers, lived from check to check and could not afford a vacation. Both resourceful, we discovered that with a small investment in a tent and equipment we could access beautiful beaches, lakes and mountains for the cost of gas and at that time about $8.00 a night. We spent fall weekends in the Adirondacks and Vermont, summers on Cape Cod, Fire Island and the coast of Maine. We camped next to lakes in New Hampshire and New York. I remember how special and beautiful the places we visited were. How immediate. How they restored us and took us far away from the daily anxieties and worries of our jobs and life as parents.

Out of the blue, just like the moment we decided to leave the city and move north, Calvin and I decide to buy a tent. This time, it was not because we couldn’t afford a vacation or weekend getaway. This time I am not 30, I am 70 and it’s probably been 35 years since I’ve been in a tent. This time, it seemed to be an extension of the simpler life we are now living. Our closer relationship to nature, living two blocks away from a preserve that reintroduced us to hiking. “We can just keep it in the car,” we said and if on one of our explorations we feel like spending the night somewhere we could entertain spontaneity and serendipity. Ever since the “Buck Moon”, or the super moon that happened July third, I’ve been letting intuition be my trail markers, not logic or reason. It’s called Buck Moon because this is the season where bucks shed their antlers and grow new ones.

We had our first overnight at a state campsite. It rained, there were black bear warnings, and I lost my way in the dark on my way back from the bathroom. I was happy that one thing that hasn’t changed in 35 years is the helpfulness and respect found among those who camp. A young couple helped me find my way. Unlike me, they remembered to bring the map of the campground. Despite the rain, our tent was a good one. The showers were hot and after hiking, felt as luxurious as a 5-star hotel. The sound of the rain on the tent lulled us to sleep. Our double sleeping bag is as lush and comfy as the down cover on our bed at home. Our concession to black bears being in the vicinity and our age was to travel to a nearby well-known farm-to-table diner for breakfast rather than cook anything ourselves. We treated ourselves to another quirky restaurant that has opened up in the Catskills and Hudson Valley where we live. We felt like we had been in another country, and we were an hour and a half from our house.

Three days before I got lost on the campgrounds, I was in Manhattan working with Dior on a campaign showcasing a new high-end jewelry line. The theme was people who worked with their hands. A very clever way to show the elegant bracelets and rings in the collection. I was being featured as a writer, not as an influencer as I had been when I worked with Dior before. This was why I agreed to take part. It was a day of full on glam, hair and makeup, stylists, creative directors, photographers, car service and, of course, head-to-toe Dior. I thought I would be rusty, but my muscle memory returned immediately. I danced with the photographer and his camera and reunited with people I had worked with before the pandemic and had not seen in a few years. Something that I had come to dread, “influencing”, when revisited in a new way and from a different perspective, was fun and exciting.

I’m a Gemini and I really, really am a Gemini. I’ve never seen a description of the twins that didn’t describe me to a T. One gift you receive if you write a memoir when written as it should be, is that it instigates a journey of self-reflection. My book, covering the decade of my life between sixty and seventy, describes the trajectory of my time as the “Accidental Icon.” It is a book about reinvention, lucky accidents, making mistakes, losing your way, being vulnerable, adventure, glamor, fame, visibility, a pandemic, loss, grief, restoration and reinvention revisited. It’s a book about life and how one person responded when it happened to her. It’s a book about how to be old, even if you aren’t, since we are all aging from the moment we are born. Life happens whether you are old or young.

One realization that I came to understand during the writing of the book is that I need to have the two sides of me in my life, otherwise the center does not hold. My astrological forecast becomes exceedingly unhappy and grim. As long as I was a professor of social work AND an Accidental Icon, I could keep my head in the clouds while still touching the ground with my feet. When I retired from teaching is when I began to lose myself and lose control of my project. Accidental Icon became someone I really didn’t know. Without her twin to balance her, it became more likely she would fall off a cliff.

Last week, I bought a bike. I have taken it out 4 times and have logged 45 miles. I have not been on a bike for 45 years. I had one when I went to grad school in Albany and later, after graduation, rode it to and from work. Now no road riding for me. This is my concession to my age. We are riding on rail trails; I couldn’t feel safer. We’re planning another camping trip next week.

I’ve gotten an invitation to a very swanky event in Manhattan; an evening cruise and dinner. I feel a tingle of excitement about dressing up and asking one of the brands that have remained my friends even though I no longer promote them to send me something over the top to wear. I am both of these girls; the one on a bike, who sleeps in a tent and the one who loves full on glam hair and makeup done to perfection wearing a gown. This time she is a writer doing these things. For the first time in a very long time, I feel whole. I have recovered my missing half. I am my fullest of full-on Gemini self once again. I am in the real world anchored by nature and in the aspirational world of a reinvented Accidental Icon. As always, Calvin is by my side. The center is holding tight again. Right now, I’m not in danger of falling. This is how I am old now that I’m 70. Perhaps in 10 years I’ll write a sequel to the book that will soon be in the world; How To Be Old.

Stay tuned in the coming week for a big announcement!