Tuesday, August 25, 2015

New Eyes

With August coming to an end, and leaves beginning to clutter our drought-suffering nearly dead lawn, I'm feeling a little sad to think the summer is almost over.  Yes, living in Los Angeles means the summer never really ends, but there is something about the sunlight, something about the smells (barbecues, suntan lotion, chlorine) that isn't the same during the "off-summer months" in California.

Nowadays, August brings the start of school for some kids.  And as an adult, it feels like the weight of responsibility is slung on my shoulders a little heavier than it felt in June, when the whole summer was ahead of me and the wonderful anticipation of two family trips (a couple of years in the planning) was still ahead.

The McNamaras (my mother's family) and the Schneblys (my husband's family) both had reunions this summer.  One in St. Paul, MN and one in Oceanside, CA.  In thinking back about the wonderful family time we spent with each group, it brought up the different perspectives each trip gave us.

St. Paul - my hometown.  The Mississippi River and the skyline of downtown with the "1st" of the First National Bank Building in red neon - where I had a summer job to save money to make the big drive out to California.  Cheese curds (even though we weren't in Wisconsin), bratwurst and cold beer.  Warm breezes, humid days, green, green, green for miles.  And lots of cousins (I have 45 first-cousins, although not all were in attendance) from all walks of life.

Oceanside - Marina del Mar condominiums where Lindsay's family has gathered since sometime in the 70s.  Chilly, foggy mornings.  Cloud-coverage that eventually burns off to a warm, blue sky.  Sand that burns your feet in the afternoon.  Ocean water so cold that knee-deep is deep enough.  Perfectly placed palm trees ideal for a postcard.  Mexican food, red wine.  Thirteen Schneblys in all, with family friends visiting throughout the week.

Certainly, the landscapes are very different.  But as my acting teacher Diana Castle always reminds me,

"The voyage of discovery does not lie in having new landscapes but in having new eyes." - Proust

As an actor, it's imperative to be able to have other perspectives - as dictated by the writer of the story - allowing us a deeper, fuller more illuminating ability to tell the story with the goal to illuminate the lives of those that experience the story through us.

It's also imperative as a human being - are you half-empty or half-full or somewhere in between?

Although California has been my home longer than St. Paul, returning "home" always gives me different perspective - sometimes the perspective rushes in with a feeling of loss (childhood, father, innocence) and sometimes with a feeling of accomplishment (my dreams of being actor began in St. Paul).

Perspective with Lindsay's family is different, but no less profound.  Even just watching my husband make his Mom giggle with laughter - the same thing he does to me on a daily basis - gives me perspective on the kind of man to whom I am married.

And of course, any trip with either family gives me perspective on aging - my own, my siblings, our parents.

In looking forward to the fall, more family trips are planned - a weekend trip to Tucson to celebrate my sister-in-law's 25th wedding anniversary to her husband, Tom.  And my family will be visiting us - hopefully to soak up some California sun before the long winter in the Twin Cities.

Yes, the landscapes are different.  But each perspective gives me a view of the world: where I am grateful for home - wherever that is.  Where I am grateful for family far away - cousins and in-laws, sisters and brothers, Mom, Momlee, Dadlar.   And family here - my husband, our doggy, the friends we cherish.

And on those days when I don't feel grateful, when the weight of adulthood makes my shoulders sag, when the job (or even the opportunities for a job) don't come through, and when I feel, quite frankly, old, I will remember the beach of Oceanside and the green of Minnesota.  And family and friends that I love.

And I'll have new eyes.