Such A Surprise!

The View From the Room On The Hill

As part of my transition towards a new and happier life, I am making an effort to step out of my desire to plan. I spent my career as a planner and business manager. I planned my daughters’ daily schedules. I even planned my lipstick to coordinate with my wardrobe. Life was comprised of lists and the satisfaction of dutiful execution. It is embedded in my DNA.

But it is clear that life does not always go according to the best organized bullet items. At least not mine. So, as I seek to settle into a completely new place, I have challenged myself to give uncertainty a try. Honestly, I am not completely comfortable with surrendering to the unknown. Talk about paradigm shifts. So far, there are days when it’s more like paradigm shit.  Yet I will try to just be and see what presents in this so-called life that is has not gone as expected or wanted.

And today, I guess you can say the “new” universe spoke. Out of the blue, I received a most unexpected phone call.

“Denise, do you know who this is?”

I did and I was taken aback. How could I forget his staccato manner way of talking? Always with aplomb, always with a rapid-fire continuum of declarations. But it has been 15 years or so since we had last spoke.

“Oh my God, is that you Frankie?”

It was. My old friend from the once glory days (as I now call them) when I lived at the very top of the Oakland/Berkeley hills with a sweeping view of the Bay and San Francisco. I loved it. I was very comfortable, I was very content. And in the cul de sac below, Frankie and his partner Jim were my neighbors.

We became immediate buddies. It was not hard to like him. He was full of conversation. He always made me laugh. He was an enthusiast for my life escapades as was I with his. Then, one day Jim and he moved to the Sonoma wine country and new possibilities. I was happy for them and promised to keep in touch. But time and busy lives took over and we simply lost track. But I never forgot them. They were neatly placed in a special memory file. (I told you I am an organizer).

Immediately, Frankie launched into reminiscing and the stories abounded. Boom! And we were off!

The Balcony View

“Do you remember when you would get ready for a date and would stand out on your balcony to show me your outfit? You always wore a red or black dress and those heels, Miss Denise. Always those heels and beautiful jewelry. And how many times did I have to throw you an extra pair of keys because you locked yourself out afterwards. And then you would tell me all the gory details of the date”. Amazed, I asked him how can he remember all of this? I don’t think most of the men that I ever dated could now remember my first name, let alone my wardrobe preferences. My dating days were ultimately a forgettable run.  But I found myself laughing as I told him of a most recent example in my procession of possibilities. I explained that I ran into my last (and literally the final) guy and, even after 6 months of dating on his terms, he could not even remember that I had a dog and unabashedly asked, “What was his name again?”

“We had so much fun driving in your Volkswagen Convertible, through the hills with music blaring”.  I had forgotten about the Cabriolet. But I did remember the oldies. Frankie had the knack of digging up the cheesiest, schmaltziest, most dramatic songs such as Mel Carter’s plea-ful serenade, “Hold me, thrill me…Never let me go”. We milked those lyrics at the top of our lungs. 

The 50th Birthday Celebration

“How are your beautiful daughters, Kelley and Krissy? Remember your 50^th birthday when I DJ’d and they gave that great speech: THE TOP TEN THINGS WE LOVE ABOUT OUR MOTHER? And the room was filled with wild flowers and Eiffel towers and all your friends. You looked so great and so happy…I am sure you still look fabulous.”  Dare I tell him no, not so great now… that a good day is one where I don’t have to look in the mirror?

He also updated me with news about our other neighbors. I dug out my old address book so we could fill in the blanks and match the corresponding faces/names to the corresponding houses. I was not surprised to hear that some of the older ones had passed away but surprised some were still alive. And I was most shocked when he told me about our one eligible, date-able neighbor who finally married a very young woman. At the time, it fueled my soapbox tirade that men my age only wanted younger women. But I was genuinely and sadly surprised to learn that his wife had suddenly died. Truly, there are no guarantees in life.

“So…are you dating anyone?” No.

“Are you still doing Pilates?” No.

“Are you working at another high powered tech company?” No.

The "Girl" On the Hill

Expecting to receive judgement, he simply told me how special I have always been to him. How full of life I am and how he is sure great things are coming my way.  “You still have it, Denise. I can hear it in your laugh. It’s still the same laugh. I can see your smile as you speak…life isn't over kid."                                                                                                                                      

And just like that, he told me that he had to run and would be in further touch. No calendar appointment, no bullet item to be specifically executed. It will, like this call and everything we shared in the past, just happen. And with that I hung up, recalling that vision of me standing on that balcony in my outfit de rigueur and pearls. And yes, the heels that were probably too high and definitely too expensive. And the dates with what’s-their-names were always too disappointing. And...I found myself laughing.

Without a doubt, it was wonderful to hear from crazy, kind Frankie. In his spur of the moment, nostalgic enthusiasm, he inspired. No matter what changes came before and lie ahead, it simply isn’t over. There is still that joy—a little battered and bruised but definitely still smiling after all these years. No matter how unexpectedly that paradigm shifts.

So, here’s to the best of times as we remember them.  And…here’s to the possibility of pleasant surprises. Even here in Sacramento.