Highmoon's Ponderings

I went this morning to the Container Store in order to get some stuff for my father-in-law for Father’s Day. He’ll be taking a 1-week vacation to Santo Domingo for the July 4 week, and we figured we’d get him his own set of Eagle Creek packing cubes. Lucky for us, the store is having their annual Travel Sale, and the cubes came out a lot cheaper than I had anticipated.

While I was in the travel aisle, picking out which cubes to get him, it hit me, like a meteor hurling towards Earth: I want to travel again. I was filled by an overwhelming feeling of running out the store, speeding up to the airport (stopping by my wife’s job to pick her up first), and getting on the first plane to Europe I could find. Knowing that I can’t do that, my eyes watered for a moment, and I felt so chained.

My wife and I were talking yesterday that we were both filled with a strange and sudden desire to travel to Israel. It’s not something we can do at the drop of a pin, but we spent all the afternoon IM-ing back and forth about it. The travel bug’s in the air, and there’s nothing we can do about it.

Right now I gotta go home and get ready for Shabbat, but I am already counting the days until we can start planning our (possible and hopefully) next trip to Benelux next year. Until then, our photo albums from the Transfiguration Tour and the Rick Steves DVDs will have to do.

Our friend Larissa visited us in Miami this past weekend, during which all we did was vegetate in different areas of the apartment (though mostly in the living room). On Saturday night we started talking about Europe, about our trip, and then we busted out the Transfiguration Tour photo albums, going through our wonderful, life-changing trip 4 years ago. We were all there, we’ve seen the pictures hundreds of times, and we always tell the same stories, but we absolutely love it. It was, hands down, part of the Top 5 of the times of our lives.

Lari was planning a trip for next year to Aruba with a friend of hers, but, she confessed to us, she did not want to go to Aruba, much preferring to go back to Europe. I said, “So, let’s go!” And to my glee, we all looked at each other and almost in a single thought said, “Yeah!” So we started talking about possible places and possible time off, and within an hour we had already a germ on an idea for a trip next year: the Low Countries of Netherlands, Belgium and Luxembourg, perhaps for 1-2 weeks.

Of course, Larissa still needs to break it to her friend, and then we need to get down to planning, but even though we agreed not to get too excited about it until we hear from Lari, I am allowing myself to dream a little and get a little excited already. This has sent my heart aflutter, and I like that feeling. I think I’m gonna visit the bookstore when I leave work today.

We also spoke about my wife’s lifelong dream to go to Australia, something that I wish I could give to her in a silver platter (though if I gave it to her in a paper plate I don’t think she would mind at all). Aside from our wished-for trip in 2007 to Ireland to celebrate our 5th wedding anniversary, this trip to Australia is probably the biggest entry on our travel wish list for the future.

We’ll see where this ends up.

We got back from our weekend getaway to New York late last night. We had a wonderful time in NYC, and once again I am reminded of how much I like that city and how much I’d like to move up there.

Quickly (I’ll go into details later), our time was spent mostly relaxing. We arrived on Wednesday night after a 2-hour long delay at MIA, ate something and went to sleep. On Thursday my wife and I took a cab ride to the Ohel, resting place of Rebbe Menachem Mendel Schneerson of Chabad-Lubavitch, as well as of his wife and father-in-law, also a Chabad Rebbe. We returned later in the afternoon to Brooklyn, had our Thanksgiving dinner, and went to see “Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason” (we liked it, it was funny) in Times Square. Friday we overslept, so we barely had enough time to make it to Manhattan, to the Hotel 17, where later in the evening, after Shabbat had started, our friend Larissa joined us. After a meal of wraps and lots of side dishes, we took a walk around Union Square and enjoyed the cold air. Saturday my wife and I went to the Young Israel of 5th Avenue for prayers, returned for a quick lunch, joined Larissa and Yvonne for an afternoon walk around Union Square and its various stores, took a short nap, and went to see Wicked: The Musical (it was AMAZING!), closing the night at the hotel and me with a headache the size of the Empire State Building. Sunday we went shopping around Union Square and St. Mark’s Place in the East Village, and ate at a great little food place called Chickpea, before going to the airport and flying back home to Miami. I’ll expound later.

Also, continuing the trend, the Boston Herald has published an article on D&D’s 30th Anniversary entitled, “Here there be Dragons: After 30 years, D&D Players Shape Pop Culture.”

In what appears to be on its way to becoming a holiday tradition, my wife and I will be flying tomorrow evening from Miami to New York to spend the Thanksgiving weekend with my sister-in-law. What’s even cooler, our friend Larissa will join us from Orlando on Friday, and Saturday night we’re all going to see Wicked: The Musical, starring Idina Menzel.

All in all, this weekend should be kickass! Which is awesome, because we really need to get out of Miami once in a while.

November 19 has various meanings to me, some happy and some sad. Let me get the sad one out first:

November 19, 1993 –11 years ago — was the day my father passed away. I was living in Puerto Rico at the time, he in Miami, and he had gone in for some checkups a few days before. During the early morning hours of Nov. 19 he suffered a renal failure and died shortly thereafter (there is obviously more to it, but there’s no reason to go into my Dad’s medical history here). It was the worst news I had ever received, especially because a few days before, when my grandparents had flown to Miami to be with my dad at the hospital, I had had one of those gut premonitions that feel like punch to the stomach telling me to go with them; I didn’t.

I had spent almost all of that summer with my Dad here in Miami and we’d have a great time. I flew back to P.R about a week before I was scheduled to originally because a girl, an ex-girlfriend, I hadn’t seen in 3 years was in P.R. due to a death in the family (the irony kills me), and I had some unfinished business with her that I wanted to close once and for all (a story for another time). And so my Dad paid the extra fee so I could fly in earlier and see this girl; he was sad, and so was I, but hey, there was always Christmas! It wasn’t to be. He had a funeral in Miami, and then his body was flown to Puerto Rico, where he’s buried.

The really annoying thing about this whole deal is, as destroyed as I was by the death of my father, when I saw his body at the funeral, my sadness was alleviated by what I saw: my father had died with a smile on his face. An honest-to-God smile. During that summer, my Dad and I caught up with like 4 seasons of Star Trek: The Next Generation and Star Trek: Deep Space Nine on reruns, and he said to me one night that in Heaven, since we’d be free of the limitations of the body, we’d be able to visit all the corners of the Universe, just “beaming” from here to there without effort, all so we could see the wonders of God’s creation. When I saw his smile, that conversation came to mind, and I understood. I got an image in my head of my father, dressed in a Federation uniform, just exploring the vastness of the Universe, and that made me smile in turn.

I didn’t cry at this funeral, though I have cried for him many times after that (including as I type this). I can’t say I understand why God decided that his time had come so soon; I needed him so much during the time of my wedding, and especially as I was contemplating my conversion to Judaism, though most of the time I simply needed him because I just needed my Dad. I just gotta trust that God did what was right, and that one day I will understand. Until then, Dad, beam on, cause one day I’ll want the Grand Tour as well.

My Dad also taught me that happiness should always be held higher than sadness, and that when possible, a sad occasion should be followed by a joyous one, which is why it’s no coincidence that Nov. 19 is also the day that my wife and I arrived in Ireland ready to begin our married life and enjoy our honeymoon.

Yvette & Danny at the Cliffs of Moher
Nov. 24, 2002

We had visited Europe the year before for a 35-day Grand Tour we named The Transfiguration Tour, but as much as we all wanted to go to Ireland, we just had to leave it off for another time. That “another time” was our honeymoon, and we enjoyed every single last second of it. Ireland is a country where myth and history are inseparable, truly one and the same. People may tell you that they pray to St. Brigit knowing full well she’s a Christianization of the Celtic goddess Brigid, or that they don’t believe in faeries, but don’t piss them off because they are out there. The best thing about having gone to our honeymoon in Ireland is that now, Ireland will always be a part of our marriage; whenever we look back on those early days, Ireland is there for us, beckoning, waiting for us to go back to her.

You can check our online travel journal at Celtic Honeymoon, and follow our trip day by day, location by location. Trust me, you’ll fall in love with Ireland as well.

So like I said, sad and happy day, this Nov. 19. But overall, it’s a happy one. I know my Dad would want me to feel that way.

My wife just sent me this via email. I don’t know who said it, but it is a great quote:

“Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, champagne in one hand, strawberries in the other, body totally worn out, and screaming WOOHOO!!! …..What a Glorious Ride!”