Tradition & The Old Familiar

It’s become a PopTech tradition to take Sunday afternoon off following President Tom Levine’s brunch at his gorgeous hillside home in neighboring Rockport Maine. Here, a handful of speakers, sponsors and PopTech staffers gather for exquisite fare, warm cider and conversation. This year, the discussion revolved around the election and the Red Sox now that they seem to be consistently winning against the Yankees.

The majority of the PopTech audience was pro-Kerry however when you really probed, you discover that most are really not so much pro-Kerry but anti-Bush. You later learn that host Bob Metcalfe who jokingly played with the audience about their political leanings is really less pro-Bush than he is anti-Kerry.

And so the world turns – what kind of place do we live in where here, we supposedly have more choices than any other country in the world, and yet are this disillusioned with our only two “real” options?

I hope Tom will forgive me for this analogy, but brunch at Tom’s house is a bit like a traditional Thanksgiving gathering at a grandparents home – reliable, warm, cozy and ‘safe.’ When I left their house, I took a stroll in the wet countryside.

It was a drizzly damp afternoon, yet the colors were still vivid and remarkably beautiful. Ah Maine, the way life should be. Check out photo album entitled Maine for a bit of what I captured that day.

Tradition of wandering off on side streets, harbor docks and boats and through wooded paths started after a photo-hike with Ember’s Rob Poor a couple of years ago. I had forgotten how wonderful it is to meander without a purpose, snap without a goal, talk to strangers simply because you have time to, and pay attention to every moment because you so rarely have the opportunity to do so.

I discovered beauty in the various neutral shades of a rope on the bow of a yacht, the subtle variations of yellows and oranges in the autumn leaves flying around my feet as I kicked my way through them, and the weathered faces of the elderly locals who dared call anywhere else home.

I ran into Joe on this walk, a native of Maine, who had a daughter with my name. He had one of those traditional New England caps, the kind my grandfather wore from the time he was a young boy to the day he died. Joe also carried a walking stick and had such a warm genuine smile, you’d want to hang out chatting for hours if you could.

He posed for me, encouraging me not to publish it in a Hollywood magazine for he simply “couldn’t handle fame” at his age. As I jumped in my car to begin my journey south, he whispered in a gruff but engaging voice – “don’t tell anyone I told ya this, but you have yourself sex appeal darling, sex appeal.”

Thank you Joe for making my afternoon. Not only am I reminded of such natural external beauty on this walk, but a bit of my own. Every woman should be told this every day, if not from someone else, then to herself.

Many old friends from the conference and a few new ones, asked me what I missed most about New England. How could I know, I thought to myself. After all, I’ve only been a west coaster for a couple of months now and in so many ways, it still feels like I’m on some extended business trip.

Yet after my traditional Sunday meander, it was so easy to know. I miss running into ‘Joes,’ afternoon get togethers in colonial whites with black shutters, scarecrows, pumpkins and falling leaves in October, warm cozy pubs with fireplaces after cross country skiing on a subzero day, hikes in the Adirondack mountains, the stillness and illuminating tones of a New England lake at dawn right before a morning slalom, Dominique my postman who’s still sending me mail on his dime and Bob the Mechanic who calls me honey, the old fashioned honey…..not the kind I got in a Midwest biker bar on my way west.

I also miss something not specific to New England, but specific to what you claim as ‘home.’ I miss old familiar places and faces. I miss driving around on auto-pilot. And I miss driving to upstate New York on holidays, seeing my grandfather’s face and gorgeous blue eyes and hearing him complain about the neighbors, the loud school buses that pass by the house every morning, higher taxes and healthcare costs.

As much as I yearn for the ever changing and diversity and have always done whatever it took to explore ‘the new,’ there’s something unforgettably grounding about the ‘old familiar.’ Treasure it, learn from it, but always look forward or you’ll miss new unforgettable moments that come your way soon after you close a door from the past.