What? How is this the first thing he does in the morning? And how is this my first pre-coffee dialogue of the day? Man the world has changed since I was his age, and that wasn’t all that long ago! Children don’t play outside like they used to, and even when they are forced to go camping with their family, the iPad is just one of a handful of electronics that play as much of a role in the experience as roasting marshmallows did when I was a kid. Constant access to the things we have become accustomed to is a must. As an adult, we are trying to hold onto the ancient traditions of camping by turning our phones off for “most of the afternoon”, or bringing a guitar and playing music around the campfire instead of an ipod dock.  But kids simply don’t know how to function without those things. Why? What’s going to happen if they can’t upload photos from 5 minutes ago to their Facebook page from their iPhone, or check their Twitter to see what their favorite celebrity is doing, or in the case of my little brother, comment on a YouTube video he was watching that debuted online.  I can’t take part in another ridiculous conversation about how playing Wii tennis is “basically just as good as real tennis”, and having a play date with a friend is just “easier to do on facetime”. And given that I am somewhat of a public figure, what hurts me the most is watching kids commenting on celebrities through different social media outlets.  Encouraging children to have an opinion, and turning a blind eye to what they are using their voices for, are two different things. Like the discovery of cell phones causing cancer, I believe we will look back at what we now view as something harmless and see that we have created a generation of children that are far less capable of functioning in social settings, yet more capable of criticizing and dissecting people through their computer screens. They are disconnected, and we are unaware of how damaging it actually is for a child. Negativity is also a cancer, of a different form, and we are feeding it unknowingly by not understanding what kids are doing while playing with their computers and phones.

Of course, I am also guilty of contributing unnecessarily large amounts of time to all that technology has to offer. Although it took me a while to understand the importance of social media, and even longer to learn how to retweet, quote tweet and post a photo, I’m now on my phone constantly because of it. It’s painfully addictive, to the point where I sometimes have to remind myself to just look up, and absorb what’s in front of me. It’s not always about taking the perfect photo, or figuring out how to fit the perfect thought into 140 characters. Were so preoccupied with what to put out, that we aren’t taking anything in. And maybe we should all try and be more careful with WHAT we put out, and set a better example for the next generation; people who will have never lived in a world without youtube, twitter, and facebook. Maybe we can all be a little more conscious of what we are using our voices for.

It was just the right kind of chilly, and the heels of my feet hurt from walking in my mother’s hand-me-down boots all day. We held hands and walked through the park, on our way to someplace to see something… we just hadn’t decided what it was. My free hand, my right hand, was numb from swinging in the icy wind as we walked. He switched sides, and wrapped both warm hands around that one. Like part of a dance, we continued to switch back and forth for the rest of the night. The ground was layered with crispy yellow leaves that formed a blanket covering the entire park. Each step welcomed a loud crunching noise. It was so soothing we walked in silence, although our synchronized smiles said more than words could anyhow.  Leaves like that should be left for decoration I thought, not swept up, bagged and thrown away. You don’t see too many colorful leaves where I’m from, so I delicately picked one up, hoping it could live like that forever on a page in my journal. 

Once again it took ten hours and two flights to get to the south. Three of those hours were not spent flying, but rather sleeping on the airport floor in Charlotte waiting for a connecting flight. It was brutal, as was the line to get a chicken biscuit from Bojangles. But Bonnaroo awaited and I needed fuel. And let’s be honest, the redeye in coach is never fun, but paying for first class tickets is still a concept I can’t wrap my head around.  My neck is pretty angry at me. We arrived around noon. The sun was directly overhead and my tan lines are proof of that. Trying to swim through the hot, thick air on a couple hours of sleep felt impossible, especially since our campsite was a 20-min walk away from the music, but we were raring to go and nothing could stop us. It was incredible. We stopped for a couple of songs at each stage, unable to commit to an entire set. Apparently it was more crowded than usual this year, and he was anxious to show me around. He somehow managed to convince me to ride the ferris wheel, despite my fear of heights. My anxiety was documented in a thousand pictures during the ride, and being the subject of those photos only added to that anxiety. I’d much rather be the one holding the camera. Anyway, the day flew by as we listened to Amos Lee and Portugal. The Man, and ate vegetarian burritos while Bobby Long serenaded us. It was more romantic than I imagined it would be in such dusty, humid conditions. We laid on our backs in the grass while Mavis Staples “took us to church”, and I pretended I was my mom, in 1976 at the Topanga music festival she always told me about. I even stuck a couple of feathers in my hair. We raced over to see The Head and the Heart, a band that I had been listening to on repeat for the last couple of weeks. Their last song made me cry. Something about that kind of passion, I so rarely see, gave me goose bumps, and he pointed them out. I felt like we were the only two people in the world amongst the 90,000 others. What a different kind of place this was. A place where people go to feel the music, and are too consumed by that to even notice any film actors or TV show singers. How refreshing it felt to see him appreciated for the artist he is, as people approached only to tell him they loved his band, having no idea he was ever on a TV show. It made me smile. I’d like to stay in that world; a world where iPhones and flip cams don’t exist, a world where people live only to dance to whatever beat they hear.

Scared we were going to miss our connecting flight to Huntsville, we deplaned the flight that landed us 20 min late into Memphis with great urgency to find that our flight had actually been delayed 2 hours. This put our minds at ease, and we decided to eat lunch and regroup. He ordered a burger and I put some makeup on my tired puffy eyes in the bathroom. I was exhausted and our travel time had gone from 6 to 8 hours, but I was still smiling. As we headed towards our gate, a woman with a brisk walk told us that our flight to Huntsville had been cancelled due to weather. We moved faster. At this time,  the most frustrating aspect of our journey so far was that the airline offered no form of compensation for flights cancelled due to weather. I decided to take control, and not let a couple hundred miles stop us from reaching our destination. Besides,  who doesn’t like a road trip? I googled the distance, and it seemed as though we could make it in around 4 hours. I asked them to take my bag off the plane, and was informed it could take up to 2 hours. I shrugged, and headed towards the signs that pointed us in the direction of rental cars. No company would rent us a one way car. We waited as bus after bus stopped and I asked if their company would please rent us a car. We were turned down every time. I called a company and begged the operator to help us. She finally gave in, either because I wore her down or her shift was almost over. We picked up our car and headed back to the airport to grab our luggage, but as we exited the lot the wrong way, we ran over two rows of spikes. We continued on our way, already discussing how often we would have to stop to fill up the tires with air. About an hour in we got a phone call from his mom. She and I had been communicating via text in a casual manner prior to this call, but now the worry in her voice was evident. She said the weather was getting worse and she’d keep us posted. We kept driving, since the sun was shining and the weather was gorgeous where we were. Besides don’t all moms tend to give undue importance to stormy weather?  It wasn’t until she called back an hour later and told us to pull over in the next town, that we listened. We pulled into a Holiday Inn and made it less than ten feet into the lobby before stopping dead in our tracks. The news was on, and every pair of eyes was glued to the TV. The hospital in Tuscaloosa had been destroyed. I was suddenly terrified, mostly because of all the other terrified faces. These people were used to tornadoes, so this must be bad. The woman at the counter offered us peach cobbler and chicken dumplings, but by the time my stomach was calm enough to eat there was only a tray filled with leftover baked beans. I’m not picky, so I tilted the tray and scraped what I could into a plastic bowl. I pulled out yahtzee, my favorite game, and we played for about 3 hours in hopes that everything would blow over (no pun intended). Because there were no rooms at that hotel or any in the surrounding area, we decided to keep driving. We would be going through towns that had already been hit, and with no power, no light and tons of loose debris in the road, we knew the drive would be scary. Another hour and a half on the road and we were back to laughing again. In fact, we didn’t notice that things were deceptively quiet. There were no cars on the road, and we drove with the windows down.  A Black Eyed Peas song was playing on the radio, and we were getting close to home. At that point we were going on 15 hours of travel time and its safe to say we were a little slap happy. Trail mix and baked beans were all we had to eat all day. Then out of nowhere we hit a patch of water on the road. All I remember was thinking it looked like a waterfall in front of our car. We couldn’t see, and we were spinning. I don’t know how many feet we went, or how many seconds it took to stop, but it felt like forever. When we finally stopped moving I started crying. You would think we would have stayed there for a while to catch our breath, but behind us I could see headlights approaching and I suggested we just keep going to avoid being a part of a 10 car pile up. We kept driving into what quickly turned into a nightmare. We were in two feet of water going 5 miles per hour as parts of trees and chunks of wood floated by. The houses to our right were totally gone. Cars were upside down and huge billboards that once lived so high up in the sky were bent in half. With no street lamps it was difficult to see in the dark, but it didn’t take sight to feel the trauma that lingered. Steadily making our way through the debris, we came upon two men in yellow windbreakers waving their hands at our car. We stopped and rolled down the window. They told us we had to turn around, because not even 18 wheelers could make it through the water ahead. We pleaded with them, begging for an alternate route. We were so close and the day had been so long. They shook their heads and scoffed as though we were accusing them of making things more difficult. Defeated, we turned around and headed back in the direction we came from. It was a silent ride. We slept in the first motel we came upon, which was about an hour away, and the next morning we woke up only to go through it all again in the daylight.

I’m from Los Angeles, where designated hiking trails dictate the time you spend working out. A 6-hour hike? Even my dog wanted to turn around and go home. Apparently the locals call this place “nature’s stairmaster.” Let me tell you now, no stairmaster leaves you as beat up as this mountain left me. I only huffed and puffed my way up for about 45 min before the twitching muscles in my legs said “no more”. Then began the slow, treacherous journey down. To be honest, if I were adequately prepared I would have brought butt pads.
The following day I attempted to seek out a hike that was more about the view than the glute workout. Note to self: When taking the scenic route in another country that uses the metric system, make sure to bring a device with a converter…or Google it. I underestimated what a 12km hike was. 2 ½ hours later, Enzo and I were still wandering around in the forest trying to find our breadcrumbs.
(Don’t judge the photos. The iphone camera didn’t do this place justice. Next time I will bring my “big girl” camera.)