My favorite author, Jennifer Weiner, started off this year like most of us did-with optimism that a new vaccine and a new White House occupant would make 2021 a year for the books.
Books you'd want to read over and over again...like those written by Jennifer Weiner.
She was about to unleash one of her best, "That Summer" which I devoured in two readings. I wasn't going to wait 'til I hit the beach for that beach read--it was too good, too witty, too unpredictable, and too close to home in this #MeToo era.
The year started normal enough for her too, with her healthy, youngish Mom that readers have grown to know and love.
And then her world was rocked, just over two months ago, when her beloved (and our much-admired) mother Fran was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, which felled her on Mother's Day, just the day after Ms. Weiner broke the sad news of the diagnosis to her many fans, and six months to the day after we lost Alex Trebek to the same awful disease. Fran may not have been as well-known as TV's favorite game show host, but she was just as beloved and iconic to the author's followers.
Jennifer has been sharing so much with her fans--on Facebook, in TV interviews--and even 'though there's a wonderful book to promote, we all feel her pain, especially those of us who have lost loved ones to cancer.
Yesterday she shared that she is going to try to process her intense grief by taking a 185 mile bike ride. To clear her head. To sooth her hurting soul.
It reminded me so much of Lorelai Gilmore, who, in the 2016 revamp of the series, "A Year in the Life", considered hiking the Pacific Crest Highway, like Cheryl Strayed did in "Wild" and for similar reasons.
I don't think I could even be a passenger in a car that traveled from California to the Oregon-Washington State border, yet alone do what Cheryl Strayed did. (I am not a fan of howling coyotes: my coping methods usually include vats of salsa, facials, and obsessively planning Woodloch vacations)
I admire Jen's determination to complete this journey. It's nice to know that some plus-sized heroines are strong and athletic; they're tall and muscular and can do things like tackle biking trails and swim for miles, while others in the plus sized community spend hours in a lounge chair, looking for split ends or trying to figure out if there's enough leftover sour cream in the fridge to make onion dip with.
Jennifer shared another sad loss with her fans in yesterday's post, the loss of her wedding rings that fell out of a pocket when she was planting flowers in her late mother's garden. (That, and losing prescription sunglasses and driving over her bike in the garage all motivated her to plan this trip)
It reminded me of something from my own life, and no, I never ran over (or even properly rode) a bike, and I never had prescription sun glasses because I'm an idiot.
But I did lose the diamond from my wedding ring.
Or thought I did.
I noticed it was missing when we were in the courthouse in Freehold, New Jersey, bringing a lawsuit against the videographers who were supposed to present us with a memorable keepsake from Evan's 2008 bar mitzvah, and we got nothing but seventy five minutes of snow.
Almost thirteen years have gone by, and I am grateful that the poor folks we were suing were on their hands and knees in that courtroom, searching through every nook and cranny for that missing diamond.
I was so obsessed with planning that bar mitzvah! I "Karened"(yes, I went there..I made it a verb, even 'though it wasn't even a meme in 2008) over every detail, conjuring horrible scenarios of what could possibly go wrong on that perfect day. (The snubbed neighbor is going to throw bright yellow paint on my pretty white party dress, which didn't happen. Or..I'd get a case of the uncontrollable giggles in a solemn moment on the bima, which did)
I don't think I would have survived 2020, when a PANDEMIC caused the cancellation of weddings and bar mitzvahs and funerals, as I barely survived that the temple placed their coffee maker in a location that most guests couldn't find after Evan's reading.
What would you call a "Bridezilla" who unrelentlessly tried to plan their kid's b'nai mitzvah?
A..GOD-zilla??
Anyway, the bar mitzvah ended, the lawsuit was settled out of court, and the diamond was..found.
In my guest room!
By my cleaning woman!
MONTHS after it went missing in that courtroom!
It's true, I noticed" something" gleaming from the carpet as I'd furiously type messages about lost videos to anyone who would still listen, but I thought it was a staple from the rug that reflected the sun light.
It wasn't..it was the diamond!--but by that time, Jim had gotten me a new one.
And he gave it to me in front of friends in an Indian restaurant, with a REAL proposal, getting down on his knee like he did in the courtroom that day.
It made me cry..it was so beautiful! And unexpected!
(Unlike the first proposal. New Year's Eve, 1988, when I said, "if you put your left turn signal on, we are going back to my apartment to break up. If you continue straight, we'll get on the turnpike, drive to New Jersey, and I will say yes to the ring I know you already bought.")
He put on the left turn signal, bore my wrath, turned off the &&*^*@!!!%%!! turn signal, drove to New Jersey, and we welcomed in 1989 as an engaged couple..the start of our happily ever after.
(Which has a lot to do with my cooking. And my "Wheel of Fortune" bonus round prowess. And knowing I'm going to always share stories like this about him)
Here's to diamonds in the rough..or the nap of the carpet!
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