Monthly archive

June 2011

Thursday, June 30, 2011

All tennis all the time

It is well known in certain circles that I am a tennis junkie. Back in the days when I could move at better than a snail's pace, I played both singles and doubles. Being a control freak, I preferred singles, but played doubles in a countywide league in Miami. Now, very sadly, I'm relegated to "playing" on my Wii or watching the people who are really, really good at it on TV. This week I've been in heaven.

Between ESPN and NBC, I've logged more hours at Wimbledon than some of the individual players. I've discovered the true meaning of being a couch potato. It was not something to which I aspired, but how could I not be tuned in for glimpses of my favorite players? I love seeing the new players who are coming up try to unseat the champions...as long as they're not up against Rafael Nadal, my personal favorite. Nobody is allowed to mess with him! I get very testy.

I love seeing the joy of some of these newcomers who've struggled to qualify as they win a spectacular point against a great or even pull off an upset. It also kills me to see some of the game's longest running champions such as the very classy Roger Federer sliding back bit by bit, even as I see Jo-Wilfred Tsonga's genuine exultation at beating him in the quarterfinals.

I'm also puzzled by the lack of great American players these days. It's such a great sport, courts are readily available in most cities -- even indoor courts in colder climates -- and
equipments is cheap, especially compared to golf. Good sneakers, a racket and some tennis
balls will put a kid in business. The pay's not bad, either, with the top seeds earning millions. Maybe it's all the emphasis on team sports that keeps kids from playing a sport that promotes individual achievement and, better yet, can be played at an amateur level for a lifetime...or at least until knees give out as mine did.

The only drawback to all the hours I've invested in watching Wimbledon -- and in the
French Open before that -- is that it makes me way too nostalgic for my own wicked backhand that is no more.

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Wednesday, June 15, 2011

Saying goodbye to a family legend

Saying goodbye is never easy, whether it's to your kindergartener on his first day of school or the far more permanent farewell to a beloved family member. Some how it's even harder when the person has lived to the amazing age of 98. You begin to delude yourself that this day will never come.

When my aunt died on June 5, I was shocked. Hard to imagine when she was 98, but Nancy had demonstrated an indomitable ability to bounce back. I saw her two days before her death, having been warned that the next 48 hours would be critical to her recovery. I swear when I walked out of her hospital room that day, I thought she was going to win yet another battle. Lest you think I was delusional, her doctor told me he'd felt the same way on the morning of the day she died. This time, though, Nancy surprised us all by letting go.

I use that phrase advisedly because she was a fighter, as stubborn and determined as any character I've ever written about in one of my books. She'd buried her parents years ago, then one-by-one each of her five siblings and in some cases their spouses, including my dad (her middle brother) and my mother. She was the rock who got the rest of us through those losses.

I've shared stories on here before of some of her battles with us over our attempts to make sure she was safe and cared for in her own home. She fought to hold onto every shred of independence she could. Never married, she showed that women could live full, rewarding lives on their own. I often wrote that she was one of the women I wanted to be when I grew up -- strong, wise, quick to laugh, slow to judge. I hope I've inherited at least some of those traits. I know I'm still working on that whole judgment thing.

A minister friend of mine said the other day that when we lose someone, our lives inevitably change. It's not just the hole that's left in our hearts -- that can, after all, be filled with memories. It's the changes to our everyday lives, the calls we no longer share, the weekly drive to spend a few hours catching up in person. I still find myself reaching for the phone and yesterday, my usual visiting day, I had this sense all day that there was someplace I was supposed to be.

For my cousins and I, we have lost not just an aunt, but a friend, a source of strength, a purveyor of family history. While we knew this day was bound to come, for us it came too soon.