I is for...

Well, of course, I is for Ithaca.

I've loved Ithaca from the time I went to swim camp at Ithaca College when I was 16, all through the almost ten years I've spent as a proud I-town citizen. I spent four years in between as a student at Ithaca College and while the grand majority of my fellow classmates knew only a select handful of bars and Joe's, I loved riding the bus around town and discovering everything else Ithaca had to offer.  When Brett was finally nearing the completion of his master's degree, we discussed where we wanted to settle. The midwest was definitely out- for a variety of reasons, the biggest being tornados. As we'd both had family crises that year, we really didn't want to be too far from our families. Far enough away to prevent a pop-in, but close enough that it didn't require a military maneuver to rush to someone's aid who was ill or hurt. We looked at each other and said, "Ithaca." It was unanimous and we really didn't entertain any other suggestions. We just knew it was where we belonged.

And although there are drawbacks (winter that goes on until May, the taxes, students cluttering town all wearing that same uniform of super-skinny jeans, a blazer and oddly-colored ballet flats, the "reality" that surrounds our ten square miles, etc.) we love Ithaca. When we were first moved here, we lived in a townhouse up by the mall and I worked downtown. Every day as I drove down the hill, I would see the sailboats out on the lake, see the towers over at IC and the IM Pei-designed Johnson Museum at Cornell that looks like a coffeemaker and think, I am lucky to live here. Nine years later and living on a different hill, I still think so.

So, here is a list of some of the things I love about Ithaca:

• Namgyal Monastery. One of the coolest things about Ithaca is our Buddhist Monastery, currently located in a house downtown. There's nothing better than seeing the monks tooling around town in their robes, just getting a newspaper or whatnot. Also- it's the North American seat of the Dalai Lama and he pops in from time to time.

• Howard Cogan. Howard, one of my professors at IC, was an ad man who created the Ithaca is Gorges slogan and gave the rights to the city. He taught Ad Lab, an intensive course where the students create an ad campaign for a national client, sponsored by the American Advertising Federation. You spend untold hours working on every detail of the campaign: research, creative, media placement, etc. and it's expected you'll give up your Spring Break to stay on campus and work. I did it twice, once my junior year for no credit because the class had already filled up. Since I'd taken the brand-new research mini-course in the fall and already put all this time and effort into it, it seemed stupid to give up just because I wasn't going to get 3 credit hours. It meant I was insanely busy trying to make it up my senior year, but totally worth it. Howard was more of a steward than an instructor for Ad Lab, there to steer us gently but leaving the work and major decisions to us. He and his wife Helen had a dinner for the Ad Lab kids at their house after the competition. He was like a big Jewish Santa Claus, and one of the best parts of Ad Lab was lining up for a hug from him. He passed away a few years ago. His was the first Jewish funeral service I ever attended. I use something that Howard taught me everyday in every aspect of my job.

• Ithaca Bakery. The Flat Rock sandwich: Roast turkey, fresh local goat cheese, sun-dried tomatoes, fresh basil, extra-virgin olive oil & balsamic vinegar, on a Baguette. Need I say more?

• Cayuga Lake. Even though you technically can't swim in it anywhere in Ithaca, it's a gorgeous focal point.

• Mulholland Wildflower Preserve. One of my favorite places to take Minchy for adventures and quiet, secluded dips in the creek.

• Cinemapolis. Our local art house movie theatre. Where all the films I want to see are showing, like Moonrise Kingdom. Also, they have delicious air-popped popcorn that you can get parmesan cheese sprinkled on.

• Briar Patch Veterinary Clinic. Where we've taken our dogs since we got 'em. I love that they remember Frances & Minchy's histories and are so genuinely happy to see them. I also love that they are so practical-minded and emphasize common sense alternatives to surgery whenever possible. And believe it or not, our dogs don't mind going to see the vet.

• Tompkins County SPCA. A No-Kill shelter since 2001, our SPCA is innovative, creative, and above all, extraordinarily caring. Animals that wouldn't stand a chance at other shelters get 2nd, 3rd, 4th and more chances here at a loving, forever home. They do good work.

• We have an awesome library.

• We have an awesome mayor. Svante Myrick is one of the youngest mayors in US history at age 24 and one of the few to be popularly elected by city-wide vote. He's Ithaca's youngest mayor and our first Mayor of African-American heritage to hold the office. In addition to being a sharp guy, he's also got a great sense of humor and one of the most entertaining Facebook pages I've ever seen. Since he doesn't have a car and mostly bikes, he made his Mayor's Parking Space into a park space. 

The Mayor's Office has Funky Fridays!

He has advice for students on how to party without the police!

The Mayor in his Park Space with LA Kings' captain Dustin Brown,
oh, and the Stanley Cup.

• Cocktails- at Felicia's and Lot 10. I'm partial to the Lavendar Lemonade and Hemingway Daiquiri.

Evil DragonEye

• A local bus system so great that I gave up my car nearly three years ago and haven't missed it since. Also, they have really nice drivers (except Evil Dragoneye.)

• E.B. White's papers (including drafts of Charlotte's Web) live at Cornell University.

• Novelist Vladimir Nabokov wrote "Lolita" in Ithaca-and he almost burned it here after the story was rejected by every American publisher. His wife,Vera, changed literary history when she pulled the manuscript from the incinerator behind their rented house on East Seneca St.

Well, I'm sure I've left a lot of things out, but this was by no means an inclusive list. Please feel free to comment on any of your Ithaca favorites that I may have missed!  (Please note: I only included things/places/people in Ithaca proper, not any outside of town, such as Taughannock Falls, etc.)

In which I tell a story

So there's this fabulous new restaurant & lounge in town called Lot 10. My friend Dan is the chef. If you're not squeamish, you should check out his surreal behind-the-scenes-sort-of blog at Eat Me. The Lounge has been doing a really awesome series called Trampoline with our independent bookstore co-op, Buffalo Street Books. It's a storytelling competition. The first one was last month, and I went and it seemed like a lot of fun. The theme of that one was "In the Beginning." I watched my friends Eric & Dan and my husband get up and tell five minute stories, pretty much off the top of their heads. The theme for April's Trampoline was "The Ex Files." And I thought of a story the minute I heard it. So I thought, I should try this. I'll write my story, practice it (you can't use notes) and get up and tell it. Just to say that I did. I think it's good to challenge yourself every once in awhile, to do something that you normally wouldn't do, or that others wouldn't expect of you.

Now, I'm not a fan of attention- I far prefer to be behind the scenes pulling strings- but I'm no stranger to public speaking. I have to do tours of our facility for my job, as well as getting up and speaking to the resident councils every month. (Trust me, there is no tougher audience than a crowd full of senior citizens who really just want to complain about food.) I've had to do presentations and talks for almost every job I've ever had. It's kind of ironic that someone who's such an introvert has made a career in public relations.  We also had a public speaking/ speech writing component to the English program in my high school, where every year from 8th grade on, you had to write and give a speech. They would pick people from each grade (or class? I don't remember all the details) and have a school-wide competition in the auditorium, then the winners from certain categories would compete regionally. I went to the regionals once. It may have been more than once and I've just blocked it out.

Just because you're familiar with public speaking and not necessarily afraid, it doesn't mean your nerves don't try to get the best of you. And in spite of the fact that I was pleased with my story and well-prepared, once we got to Lot 10 and I threw my figurative hat in the ring, I had to work very hard to keep from becoming a nervous wreck. Several Jameson's & ginger ales helped. What did not help? BEING THE VERY LAST ONE TO GO.

Felt like it looked like this. Could've been the whiskey.

I tried to focus on what exactly I was nervous about- and I realized I was most afraid that I would forget what I was going to say. By the time it was FINALLY my turn, I had convinced myself that once I got into the flow of it, each part would come to me just fine. I had some nervous laughter and for a bit at the very beginning, I panicked that I wasn't going to remember it all. But once I slowed myself down, it all was there.

To be perfectly honest, I didn't give a flying fig how anyone else thought I did. I mean, it was nice to get compliments from my friends in the audience and good marks from the judges (one of which was my husband, who gave me a 9 out of 10 because he didn't want to show favoritism but the crowd convinced him to change his score. So he made it 19 out of 10.) but it didn't matter to me. If I got through it without forgetting any of it, didn't botch up my delivery, and I did pretty much what I set out to do, I was happy. I honestly can't remember the audience's reaction at all. It's funny- it was never the crowd that made me nervous. It was my own memory failing me that gave me the quakes.

Anyway, so next month's theme is "The Greatest." If you're in the Ithaca area, I highly recommend you come out for it. It's Thursday, May 3rd at 7pm. I don't think I'll be doing a story for this one. It will be nice just to sit back and enjoy instead.

For those of you who don't feel you've already wasted enough time reading this entry, I'm putting the text of my story below. Please keep in mind that there is a minor amount of poetic license involved, either for effect or to supplement holes in my memory.

So, my dad was a Navy SEAL.

For the most part, it was pretty cool. But there was one area where it honestly, sincerely, genuinely sucked to be the daughter of a Navy SEAL- and that was dating. Now, I did not head into the courtship arena particularly well equipped to begin with. I possessed plenty of other handicaps besides having a trained assassin for a parent. When I entered seventh grade, I was four feet six inches tall, and I weighed 66 pounds, about three-quarters of which was hair and teeth. But eventually I got a little bit taller, got contact lenses (so I could ditch those Kathy-with-a-k dewdrop glasses with the pink frames- you know the ones), and I finally got my braces off, which meant I didn’t have to wear headgear anymore, which was a very good thing because I’d had the unfortunate habit of wearing my Walkman along with my headgear, so I spent most of junior high tooling around looking like a switchboard operator from the 60s.

But with these crucial changes made, by high school, boys started talking to me. And not just to ask for help with their homework. And after numerous conversations with one in particular, we made plans to watch a movie over at my house one night. So I made popcorn, he brought over some shitty action movie on VHS, and I went down to the fridge in the basement to get us a couple of Cokes. When I returned to the rec room, he was staring at this picture on the wall.

 “Hey, who’s this?” he asked me.

Okay, I made up the machete part.

“That? Oh, that’s my dad.”

“That’s your dad? THAT'S your dad? The guy with the two bandoliers of ammo strapped across his chest and the machete in his teeth? That’s your father?”

“Yeah. He was a Navy SEAL. That’s from when he was in combat in Vietnam.”

Hey, Che!

Now, even though we lived in a very small town, my dad’s service wasn’t really common knowledge at that point. For one thing, my dad didn’t like to brag about it; SEALS are trained to keep a low profile, and like most people who’d served in Vietnam, he was apprehensive about how some people might respond.  And quite frankly, you never would’ve guessed by looking at him. He may have been the spitting image of Che Guevara in his SEAL days, but by the 90s he was looking like a cross between Flip Wilson and Billy Joel.

So, as I confirmed the identity of the man in the picture for my friend, you could see the color drain out of his face, and he started stammering.

“Oh my god! I am such an idiot! I can’t believe I forgot! Listen, I am so sorry, but I just remembered this assignment that I have to do for tomorrow. Wow, I can’t believe I forgot all about it till now.”

“For what class?”

“Uh, English.”

“I’m in your English class. We didn’t have an assignment.”

“Uh, it’s extra credit. Special credit. Extra special credit. I need it to graduate on time. Listen, I’m really sorry. Hey, see you around!”

Thanks, Dad.

I eventually found other less easily intimidated boys and even married one with a minimal amount of bloodshed. But my dad, realizing he had a powerful tool at his disposal, had upped the ante. Framed photos of him in Vietnam started multiplying on the walls of the rec room. Somehow, inexplicably, when I was had a boy over, the photo album from his SEAL training in Coronado would appear on the coffee table in front of the couch, perhaps opened to shots of Hell Week training with green-suited men struggling to run in the surf with a telephone pole hoisted on their shoulders, or maybe my dad’s personal favorite, the one of him posing with the shark he had caught with only his hands and a k-bar knife. But I could tell I had a keeper when I pulled him aside early on & said, “Hey, just so you know, my dad was a Navy SEAL,” and he responded with, “Really? Cool! Does he have any pictures I could see?”