Is it really the end?

If you’ve been paying attention and reading this blog, not too long ago I lamented about the suddenness of summer’s end and that it would inevitably find me standing with my long “to-do” list virtually untouched.

I wasn’t wrong.

My house still needs painting, my bathroom still needs fixed and my garden, though planted, still needs to bear fruit. I did manage to get a new screen door installed — with the help of a very handy friend because it turned out to be a much bigger job than I had anticipated — but the garage is still a mess and I still have not gone either swimming or golfing.

And summer, in our house, officially ends Wednesday when the kids go back to school.

Summer — like all things — must eventually end. The same is true with On the Street, at least in the manner it’s being done now. This post is the last for the nearly three-year-old On the Street, and the feature in Monday’s Gazette will be the final installment.

I wasn’t one of the original team to do On the Street. I was a fill-in. Nicole Riehl and Carly Weber started the feature for young adults — those in their 20s and 30s — and, quite frankly, at 41 I don’t fit the demographic. It was fun, though, talking to people at different venues and getting their ideas on topics that ranged from the sometimes serious to mostly inane. It was the kind of communication I love most: up close and in person. And very rarely did I find people unwilling to “play along.”

So this is it for On the Street. Will it be resurrected in some other form? I don’t rule anything out. For now, though, like summer, it’s drawing to a close.

More than just veggies

I’m ashamed to admit it, but Saturday’s tryst to the return of the Downtown Farmers Market was my first visit there. Here’s a large event, held right outside my office door, and I’ve not made it before now.

But wow, what a first visit it was.

I love farmers markets for the simple reason that while I love to garden and grow my own vegetables, there are not enough hours in the day or days in the week for me to really do what I’d want to do in the produce department. I plant tomatoes, zucchini, cucumbers and usually radishes and onion, but that’s about it. So I came to the farmers market on Saturday expecting to be overwhelmed.

I wasn’t disappointed, but I was overwhelmed even beyond my own expectations.

Flowers, plants, foods, candies, meats, jewelry, crafts, baked goods, live music — and that was just within the first few areas I walked. I could smell a blend of funnel cakes and zinnias (interesting combination for the nose, let me tell you) and people watch to my heart’s content.

In talking to people at the market I was somewhat surprised to find as many newcomers as I did — many of whom credited their first trek to wanting to see downtown Cedar Rapids rebuild, revive and thrive.

I’d say we’re off to a good start.

RAGBRAI XXXVI

Carly

I’m not ashamed to admit that I have no desire to ride in RAGBRAI. Not even a little bit. There are lots of soul-stretching body-testing things I’d like to try. I’ve always wanted to hike the treacherous pass that gold rushers climbed in Alaska in the 1800s. I would really like to run a distance race someday. I think it would be fun to take a long kayak trip through the Interior Passage of Alaska’s pan handle.

But, I do not want to ride RAGBRAI. Not this girl. Reason being, I hate riding bikes. HATE. I wish I didn’t. But, I do. It’s like pickles. Every time I think maybe my taste has changed, I try it (a spin on a bike or a bit of a pickle). And, I remember why I’ve always hated it. Bike riding and pickles. Two things I will never enjoy.

I like to joke that spinning class is my idea of my own personal hell. Really, though. I’m entirely serious. I cannot imagine anything more painful than riding a bike and getting nowhere. Ugh!

At least if you ride in RAGBRAI you get to see 470-plus miles of Iowa’s countryside. A lot of the  people I spoke with Thursday in North Liberty, five days into the ride, said they pass the time and the miles by sight seeing. There’s a lot to take in, one rider told me. Others said they talked among their group or with other riders as they passed by.

One guy said he listens to music or talks to people. He also takes in the sights, and oh yeah, “there’s a lot more hills than you might think.” Not that I needed another reason. But, no thanks.

Those hills shouldn’t phase him though. The Maquoketa native who now lives in Santa Cruz, Calif., rode his bike all the way to Iowa from California. It took him 16 days to make the trek, via Oregon. He landed here two days before RAGBRAI and then joined the ride across the state, all for the sake of sustainable energy.

Now that, I suppose, is one thing that could get me back on the bike.

Favorite movies

Carly

I don’t think I even knew there was such a thing as a color movie until I was in junior high. OK. That may be a slight exaggeration. But, to be honest, other than cartoons, most of what I watched as a child was in black and white. Growing up in Alaska, we didn’t have regular television stations, so videos were our main form of entertainment. Of course we had the requisite Disney flicks. Among my faves were “Sleeping Beauty,” “Cinderella” and later “Beauty and the Beast” and the “Little Mermaid.” I hated “Snow White” and “Bambi” and “Dumbo” were just too sad for my young sensitive soul. But, those movies were not the ones that I wore through.

Nope, as a child I was more apt to throw in an old Cary Grant or Gene Kelly movie than any cartoon. Wierd, right? I loved “Singing in the Rain” and “New York, New York.” But those are classics; everyone loves those. I was also infatuated with movies that were probably popular at their time  — 25 years before I was born — but not much later. I watched Doris Day movies like “Glass Bottom Boat” over and over again. I loved “Cheaper by the Dozen. I adored actresses like Grace Kelly and Audrey Hepburn.

But the movie that I quite literally wore through so that my mother had to buy me another copy was “Seven Brides for Seven Brothers.” I can’t explain it. I loved it. I don’t honestly know another person who’s even seen it. But I love love loved it. It’s the sort of movie I would fast forward (at a time when we actually fast forwarded) to different spots each time I put it in the VCR because it didn’t matter where I picked it up. I wish I had a copy now.

It’s funny how we get so attached to movies, and how they end up representing our childhood. Some of the people I spoke with at the theatre had a hard time coming up with a movie at first. Not because they didn’t have a favorite, but because they had so many.

It’s getting hot out there

It wasn’t that long ago that I used this space to whine — yes, I admit to whining — about the cold and the snow and the ice. I believe I also warned that once it got hot, I’d be whining about that, too.

So now I’m out to prove myself wrong.

Iowans had a horrific start to summer — a devastating tornado in Parkersburg, historic flooding that left thousands of Eastern Iowans homeless — but when it comes to the temperatures and humidity, it really hasn’t been that bad. Maybe it’s a reprieve for having to deal with everything else, but when Friday’s steamy temps hit the 90s, I really didn’t mind. It was, after all, mid-July and it was the first really sticky day we’ve had.

Over most of the last decade I have done an about face and actually become more tolerant of the hot summers of Iowa; in fact, I mostly enjoy them. I’ve learned to golf, which makes spending time outside much more enjoyable, and even as a redhead I’ve grown to appreciate the sun.

Still, on days like Friday, there’s only so much a person can — and should — take. Like the people I talked with at Noelridge pool, the first thing I would do, if I weren’t working, is spend a day in the water. I love swimming, or just spending enough time in the water to get cooled off before laying out (with sunscreen — did I mention the red hair?!) and enjoying the warmth.

There are other things to do that let you get out of the house and yet enjoy air conditioning or cooler conditions. Go see a movie, or rent one and bring it home. Go to the library. Get a book and hit a coffee house and get an iced coffee. Have a picnic under a shade tree. Make homemade ice cream. Eat a popsicle. Run through the sprinklers. Have a water balloon fight with your kids.

Beating the heat doesn’t necessarily have to mean avoiding it. In my world, it means enjoying it.

Flood Recovery

I will be honest and say that I was a little worried about the question I decided to ask Thursday night at the first day of Floodstock 2008 for this week’s On The Street. The plan was to ask “What have you done to help with flood recovery?” and I was nervous that I’d get a lot of guilty faces and silence in response. What if no one I talked to had done anything to help?

Turns out I shouldn’t have worried. All but one person I talked to had done something to help out flooded homeowners and business owners. Whether it was donate money or items or time, they’d all reached out to there fellow Cedar Rapids residents and helped at this dire time in our city’s history. I was very impressed by everyone’s efforts. I was also impressed by how many of them had volunteered through their place of business. How very cool that companies would release their employees for a day or more to go help flood victims. Maybe not good for the bottom line at first blush. But definitely a way to build company moral and spirit and give employees and the company more of a vested interest in their community.

I’m embarassed to say, though, that if this question had been flipped back on me I wouldn’t have had much to say. I haven’t helped anyone muck out their basement. I haven’t donated clothes. I haven’t even written a check. Sure we donated some food and we thought about going through our closets. But, did we get around to it? No. I’m ashamed of that. Because this is one case where the thought doesn’t really count for much.

We are in the process of going through our son’s toys with him. And I am proud to say that even without our example, he decided on his own to donate them after seeing toys piled on the sidewalk along First Avenue. After much contemplation over a couple of hours, he announced that he’d like to give some toys to other little boys and girls who lost theirs in the ‘big water.’

I think I should take a cue from everyone I spoke with and my four year old and get out and do something.

The not-so-lazy days of summer

Here we are, having finished our first full week of real summer. It almost makes me nervous — getting to the summer solstice seems to drag on, but once it hits, bam! Summer’s gone.

Every fall and winter I begin to make a mental list of the things I am going to get done “next summer:” Paint my house. Camp. Golf more. Swim with the kids. Take a weekend getaway. Grill more. Hike more. Plant a garden. By the end of June I’m recalling that list and thinking, “Crap. Will I get any of it done?”

I have yet to paint my house (it desperately needs it), we haven’t camped in four years and I am well into my third summer of not swinging my clubs. We haven’t hit the pool once, although my daughter did go swimming at a friends house and both kids spent a week at camp, much of it in the pool. No on the weekend getaway and hiking, although we have fired up the grill quite a bit. Thanks to a very wet spring I didn’t get my garden in until mid-June, and by then I just went with the bare essentials (tomatoes, zucchini, cucumber and carrots).

When I think of the longer summer days I always believe I’ll have more time to get more done. Then I get all whiny and think, “Why can’t I do this?” And then something happens to remind me that those chores I didn’t get done are really quite small in the grand scheme of things.

Talking with people at the BBQ Roundup about their summer days, I met plenty of people who are grateful for the longer days so they could have more daylight hours to clean up after the flood. Many were without electricity — some without homes — and relied on the sunlight to get work done. One man, Mike Shaffer, was left homeless by the flood — his house is not salvageable. He told me summer always gives him a better attitude. Even this year? “Especially this year.”

Yeah, Mike. Me, too.

 

The Floods of 2008

The other day my husband and I were talking about when he’d come downtown to have lunch with me some day soon.

We were several thoughts into the conversation before we both stopped dead in our verbal tracks and looked at each other. That won’t be happening any time soon, we both realized at the same time. Bricks, Mr. Beans, The Blue Strawberry, Brueggers and every other yummy lunch spot in downtown all have a lot of work ahead of them before they open again, if they ever do.

I’m sure there will countless other conversations like that all around the city this summer and perhaps for years to come.

It brings a tear to my eyes just thinking about it. I drove through downtown the other day for the first time on my way to the FEMA mobile stations to talk to those displaced by the flood. I was crying before I got to 3rd Street. Everything turned inside out, tables, chairs, office equipment, everything littering the sidewalks outside once busy businesses. Downtown was teeming, but not with people walking to and fro, on their lunch break or headed to a meeting. Instead disaster relief workers wearing hazmat suits and masks piled muck-soaked items in front of store fronts. As a writer, it pains me to say this, but words can not express. Pictures and seeing the devastation with your own eyes are the only way to fully understand. And even then it’s hard to wrap your head around.

I have no doubt that this this city will recover. But the Cedar Rapids as we once knew and loved it, will never exist again. There will undoubtedly be business and homeowners that won’t be able to afford to reopen or rebuild. The landscape of this city is forever changed.

Postponed events like the Freedom Festival are obvious examples of how summer in Cedar Rapids will be different. No fireworks for the Fourth of July. I can’t imagine. But, there are other ways our lives, even those of us fortunate enough to not have been directly affected by the flood waters, will be different.

The people I spoke with at Hog Wild Days in Hiawatha surprised me with some of their answers to my question: “How has the flood affected your summer plans?”

One woman was planning on renting an apartment this summer. Now every place she calls asks if she’s a flood victim and she feels bad taking a roof from someone who needs it more than she. Another guy is on competitive ski teams. His season is in jeopardy if not cancelled entire due because the rivers where they practice and compete are the same ones that just tore through our towns.

Some people said they didn’t think the flood had affected them.

Maybe not yet, but I bet it will. Each and every one of us are going to feel this flood for years to come.

Aaaaaaah, summer …

It used to be, when I was growing up, that summer was that idyllic time of life – no responsibilities, just hanging out with friends, playing softball, riding bikes and being outside as much as possible. When we lived in Alaska, my brother and I would join a friend up the street in his canoe and spend the days floating on a small lake near our home.

Then, because it was seldom dark in the summer, we’d play touch football or tag or just go on hikes with friends until the streetlights came on (there were no cell phones 30 years ago so our parents had to resort to the old-fashioned way of keeping tabs on us).

Fast forward to 2008. As my kids and I were planning the summer, we talked about softball, summer camp, basketball camp, mini-vacations and swimming.

Nowhere in our plans did it call for me to answer my phone 10 times a day to answer mindless questions.

“What can we have for lunch?” “How am I getting to softball?” “Do I really have to unload the dishwasher?”

And that was just on the first day.

Keep in mind that these “children” are teenagers – both well-equipped to make their own lunch, find their own rides and look around the house to see what has to be done. But once that ever-popular, “I’m bored” enters their heads, the first response is, “Call Mom.”

We are now one week into summer vacation and I have the hours counted down to the first day of school.

 

Love and anguish in our 40s

I first started watching “Sex and the City” when it premiered in 1998 and it was a fantasy to me. I was married, had two small children and lived in west central Iowa. What did I know about Manolo Blahniks, living the high life in New York City or drinking Cosmopolitans until dawn?

Then in 2002 I found myself 36, divorced and living in Eastern Iowa. Hello, Dating World.

Ugh.

I turned to my virtual friends – Carrie, Samantha, Miranda and Charlotte – for tips and advice. After all, look at all the fun relationships they had: Carrie and Big, Carrie and Aiden, Miranda and Steve, Charlotte and Harry, Samantha and … everyone. I quickly learned, though, that dating as a never-married 30-something in New York wasn’t anything like being a divorced 30-something (and now 40-ish) woman in Iowa. And dating as a 30-something-turned-40-ish woman in Iowa is absolutely nothing like dating as a college co-ed, no matter where you are.

Much like anything else in life, dating in your 30s and 40s is a learn-as-you-go process. What attracted me at age 18 doesn’t hold much appeal to me now: “having a stable job” has replaced “earns enough money to buy gas;” “enjoys a quiet night at home” has earned top spot over “likes to go out and party;” and “must get along with my kids” has taken the place of … well, nothing, because it just wasn’t an issue when I was 18.

You also learn what you are and aren’t willing to put up with. I never would have thought that having someone sing “I love you” karaoke to me on our second date – and tell me he meant every word – would be as disconcerting as it was, or that having someone brutally mispronounce a word several times in one conversation would be unbelievably annoying.

At one point in my new dating realm I actually created a list of “rules” – ones that I wouldn’t share, but would tuck away in the back of my head for future reference: thou shalt not ask me to a movie and then pretend to have forgotten your credit card when we get to the theater; thou shalt not say “I’d like to do this again” when in fact you wouldn’t; thou shalt not whine at me on the telephone before we actually “go out;” thou shalt not keep me waiting for you to get off work when you forgot to ask if you could leave early; and the ever-popular “thou shalt not lie to me about wanting to date other women when in fact you already have.”

Many of the challenges we face dating in our 40s are just the “grown-up” versions of the same challenges we had when we were younger. Some people still cheat, many still want to be with Barbie or Ken and no matter how hard we try to hide it, there is still a part of all of us that feels that bit of insecurity when it comes to meeting someone new.