I, for One, Don't Turn My Cheek for Anyone

Dear marketers of toilet paper,

I am one person. I have one bottom. I am responsible for two bathrooms. I live in a relatively small house with limited storage. Given these qualities, it is completely unnecessary for me to invest in 24, 36, or 48 rolls of toilet paper at one time. I fondly recall the days when a single roll of toilet paper could be bought in a color to match one's bathroom.

Today, I found myself overwhelmed by the packages of toilet paper in my grocery store. The closet where I keep my toilet paper has a nook just the right size for an 8-roll package. Specifically, 8 normal-sized rolls of toilet paper. Not 8 double rolls (equivalent to 16!), not 8 mega rolls (enough to cover the Captiol Building!), not a 12-pack, not a fork-lift pallet of 96 rolls. So I abandoned hope at the grocery store and proceeded to Target. To my chagrin, the situation was no better. In order to use your coupon and save $1.00, I would have to buy 36 rolls of toilet paper.

Furthermore, while I like a little comfort in my toilet paper, I do not need anything soft or thick enough to substitute for a sweater. Surely there is a middle ground between chafing and feathery cherub's wings?

In the end (!), I wound up choosing toilet paper by the size of the package. I think there are 18 non-mega rolls of super-thin toilet paper now nestled in my closet. If there is one upside to this purchase, it is that, with 18 rolls on-hand, I will not have to buy toilet paper for quite a while.

As you consider future packaging for your products, let me remind you that there are still some Americans who have not super-sized. Please consider packages that can fit in a Honda Civic and that be stored in a townhouse. And, if it's not too much trouble, please mention this letter to your counterparts in the paper towel department. I'm afraid it's becoming impossible to buy both your products on the same day without making two trips.

Cordially,
JW

On the Coast of Somewhere Beautiful

I often joke with my friend Ben that he and I have two different memories of our shared experiences. Over the years we’ve shared several adventures, our most recent one being a long weekend in Costa Rica.





Ben’s the ultimate planner, organizer and harasser of customer service, so he remembers details. This weekend we had a debate about the color of the cape our friend Jerusha wore at her wedding. (Jerusha, feel free to sort us out in the comments!) I may not remember what the bride wore, but I remember what I was feeling that day. My memories are emotional and relational, with little emphasis on details.




I suspect the Costa Rica trip will go down similarly in history because there is something about being in another country, stripped of my Blackberry, that leaves me a lot of time for thinking. One of the things that I thought about this weekend was my Thursday night girlfriends and how deeply their influence goes into my life.






One night, out on the town of Manuel Antonio, I was wearing Michelle’s ring, Katie’s bangle and Emily’s purse—all acquired at one of our group’s accessory swaps. While I was gone, I had no worries about my house and my cat because I knew Beth had it under control. When I packed my backpack for the trip, and as we passed a few hostels, I was wishing Laura was there like she was the last time I wore a backpack in another country. Ben and his partner Stuart were talking about how much they loved their recent trip to Charleston and I so badly wanted to text Melanye and ask her for the name of the beach she camped on in the Charleston area for Melanye is always just a text away! The wine we drank, the Spanish we attempted to speak—they would’ve been right up Hannah’s alley.




It was wonderful to be in Costa Rica. It was wonderful to laugh and sightsee with these dear guys, but it was a pleasant surprise to remember just how good I have it at home.

There's Only One Place They Call Me One of Their Own

This summer, instead of renting a house near Myrtle Beach, my family decided to make use of our family’s shore house in New Jersey. My Carolina friends often ask me what the beaches in New Jersey are like and so, throughout our week, I found myself making mental lists.

Down the Shore



--Everything’s all right (couldn’t pass up a Springsteen reference, sorry).
--Boardwalks offer an evening activity. Rides, unique foods, all the t-shirts and beach stuff you might want to buy. Southern friends, think State Fair meets Wings/Waves/Eagles.



--Phillies shirts outnumber Carolina shirts 500:1.
--You pay for lots of things: parking your car, a pass to get on the beach, tolls on bridges and highways.
--Seagulls prowl the beaches relentlessly in search of discarded Cheetos. What they cannot find, they will steal from your unsuspecting hand.
--It’s crowded. New Jersey is the most densely populated state, and when you add in the vacationing Philadelphians, New Yorkers, and Canadians, it gets a little tight.
--You’re only 90 minutes away from Philadelphia, so you can get a decent cheesesteak or a water ice. You can also drive up to the city and catch a Phillies game.



--For me, it will always be a second home. The house my grandfather built all those years ago is not a beach-front palace, it’s not even air-conditioned. Inside its walls are many happy memories from childhood and young adulthood. The people in New Jersey are familiar, I know their culture, and I can speak with their accent. When I am down the shore, I have favorite places to go—a state park, a beach where I like to run, a pizza place I can’t refuse, a roadside stand that sells Jersey peaches.

At the Beach
--There’s plenty of room. Running on Carolina beaches is wonderful, low tide means lots of wide, flat sand for the exercise enthusiast.
--We can walk to the beach from wherever we rent. In New Jersey, we drive to the beach. If you forget something in Carolina, no big deal, you walk back and get it.
--There’s less hustle and bustle. Our Carolina beach vacations are opportunities for us to play the Wii, put together jigsaw puzzles, solve crosswords and read piles of books.
--The houses are bigger and renter-friendly.
--Seagulls go about their business peacefully. I have not known them to steal Pringles from my hand.
--If there was a famine, I still would not stop by the side of the road for a sandhill peach.
--Two words: outlet shopping!
--We are still finding favorite places to eat and visit. Even after several trips, it remains unfamiliar. We rely on websites and coupon books to recommend restaurants. We join the throngs at Broadway at the Beach because we haven’t figured out what else there is to do on a Tuesday night.

I’ve loved the beach for my entire life. If it’s got sand and salt water, odds are I will be happy there. But, I must confess a preference for the shores of New Jersey. If I spent the next 30 summers in the Myrtle Beach area, I would probably learn my way around and develop attachments to restaurants and parks. To be honest, I’m not sure I want to. It’s like Reese Witherspoon says in Sweet Home Alabama, “The truth is, I gave my heart away a long time ago, my whole heart, and I never really got it back.”

Something's Missing and I Don't Know How to Fix It

Today we interred the remains of my grandmother who passed away in March. Joining my aunt and uncle for the trip from Baltimore to the Philadelphia cemetery was my cousin Debbie.

Blonde and spirited, Debbie is a nurse and a mother of three. She was with my grandmother when she died and she was indispensable to us when we traveled to Maryland for the funeral in March. It is hard to be around her and not get the sense that family is her top priority. There are two Debbies in my memory—the present version and the hip, young beauty with a huge poster of Journey lead-singer Steve Perry above her bed. At some point, the Journey tour bus was exchanged for a mini-van, but I’m not sure when.

Meanwhile, on Facebook, my cousin Alison’s status is something like, “I need a ride to Philly area this weekend. Will pay gas and tolls. I will sleep a lot.” She is trying to head east from Pittsburgh so that she can join us for my parents’ 40th anniversary party. After graduating from Carnegie Mellon, she stayed on it Pittsburgh to do some intellectual job at some company. I don’t know the specifics.

I love my cousins, but there is a disconnect, and it bothers me.

When I am around my cousins, I have a great time. They’re funny, they have interesting jobs, they travel to fascinating places and, I like to think, if we didn’t live so far away, we could be great friends.

When my friends talk about going on vacation with their cousins, or casually getting together with their cousins, I admit, I’m jealous. Geography is one reason my cousins and I never got close as kids, age is another. Six of my cousins are significantly older than me. Three are much younger.

For the most part, though, we are all adults now. Age shouldn’t matter. We have Facebook and cell phones, so distance shouldn’t matter. So the question is…how do I pursue closer relationships with my cousins?

With Bill and Laurie—the amazing PTA parents and outdoor enthusiasts.
With Mike—who loves all the Philadelphia sports teams.
With Linda and Derrick—whose motorcycle adventures surely must bring them close to North Carolina from time to time.
With Alison—who has been known to read this blog and who was the first baby I remember holding (if only she’d been the last!).
With Kate—who is So. Much. Fun.
With Adam—who is the same age as some of my favorite people (see previous post).
With June and Louis—June with her stories of life in England.
With Debbie and Joe—who love family so much.
With Allen and Dawn—fellow Parrotheads.

There’s someplace to start with each of them, but where do I go from here? Comment away!

Isn't She Lovely

Four years ago, I started working with the high school students at my church. Like a freshman, I was awkward, unsure who to sit with and how to initiate a conversation with the students around me. My first year, I kept a pretty low profile, but as time passed and I spent more time with the students, I began to feel like part of the crowd. Now I enter the room with the swagger of a senior.

As a high school student myself, I had many friends and participated in a variety of activities. Reflecting on those days, though, I remember being insecure and immature and always somewhere just short of fitting in. The high school girls I work with now will probably describe themselves the same way in 20 years, but to my eyes, they are wise beyond their years and in many ways, stunningly beautiful.



Anna is the tenacious athlete. Yesterday I watched her learning to wakeboard behind a boat, face scrunched in determination, hands thrown up in frustration, leg muscles impressively bulging when she finally caught on. Inside her athletic frame beats a leader’s heart. She corrals the high school students into Nerf wars and birthday pranks.

Allison is a gifted musician, always singing something from Broadway or Glee. She disappears on Sunday nights to play the piano. When she speaks, she is hilarious. Dark and dry, her sense of humor betrays an old soul hiding in a teenage body.

Hannah is usually harmonizing with Allison. She, too, is always singing. I knew that if I wanted her to stay awake on the car ride home from the lake last night, all I had to do was put on some music she could sing along to. Tall and lovely, she is a natural in the spotlight, never scared to be goofy in a skit.

Marlena has the beauty of an Italian move star and the manners of English royalty. Always polite, always kind, she surprised us all by enlisting in the Marines after high school. She knows you have to work hard for what you want, so if getting to college means going through boot camp first, she will get to the end of the obstacle course.

Karen has learned to wait for things: a car, a cell phone, a laptop. Delayed gratification has made her more appreciative than her high school peers. God is using her to bring light to the restaurant where she works and soon He will send her into the mountains of western North Carolina to be a light on her college campus. There is no doubt she will be successful there because, in addition to being a good student, Karen is able to fit in with any group of people.

Claire is the all-American girl. Blonde and lovely, she is always busy with sports and clubs and friends. But she is no stereotype. Claire is a nurturing older sister and a devoted friend.

Kelly is the girl people flock to. She too is a busy athlete with many friends. Instead of letting popularity go to her head, Kelly steps back and trusts her parents’ advice. Her heart is tender. When she went to Africa, her mother’s greatest fear was not snakes or malaria, but that Kelly would become too attached to the orphans she worked with.

Alice is the thinker, the reader and the grown-up of the bunch. Tall and delicate, she carries herself with grace and maturity beyond her years. She enjoyed high school, but I get the feeling that Alice will really love the deep conversations and rousing discussions that await her at college this fall.

Abby is the fairy princess. Ethereal and silly, she can also be surprisingly grounded. Talk to her about the severe car accident that left her hospitalized for weeks and you will hear the voice of a godly, mature young woman. Talk to her about Mr. Darcy and you will meet a very funny girl.

Jersey Girl

Here’s another two-for-one special, because these two ladies are forever linked in my memory and in my heart.

I was working in my first classroom when Trish came in. She was wearing a t-shirt and some Adidas soccer shorts. I need to be clear, this is the first, last and only time I ever saw her dressed so casually. We were in a tiny school in New Jersey and, in a district where jobs were tough to get, Trish and I had both been hired that summer. She would be starting in third grade and I would be in fourth. Trish took me through the halls to meet another new teacher, Lynne, who was a special ed. teacher working with emotionally troubled students.

Since the staff was so small, we quickly formed friendships with everyone there, but our common newness bonded Lynne, Trish and me in a unique way. We ate lunch together every day and quickly became woven into each other’s worlds. Trish and Lynne, along with Sue and Heather (two other young teachers at our school), were my first adult friends. I didn’t know them growing up and we weren’t in college together. We met, and connected, as adults. We hung out at TGI Friday’s happy hour and went to Flyers games and concerts together. Tangent: Heather was my accomplice in paying my boss’s “ticket guy” $375 in cash to see N’Sync. For the record, it was worth every shady penny!

But we were also there for the grown-up milestones in each other’s lives. When Trish came to school wearing a beautiful diamond engagement ring, Lynne and I screeched and cheered in my classroom. When Lynne’s first pregnancy gave her a craving for Ding Dongs, she brought in enough to share with all of us and when her precious daughter arrived, wild horses could not keep us away from the hospital. When I decided to leave these dear friends and move to North Carolina, Trish threw the best party anyone has ever thrown for me.

This week marks my seventh year in North Carolina, y’all. I had six years with Trish and Lynne in New Jersey. Even though I’ve lived away from them longer than I lived with them, these ladies are still good friends. In a couple weeks I will be with them again and I can’t wait. I can’t wait for the warm welcome, the rowdy laughter, the good-natured teasing, and the bittersweet tang of confronting what I left behind.

Looking for Adventure, and Whatever Comes Our Way

It is not always easy to travel with someone. People move at different paces and appreciate different aspects of their surroundings. When surroundings are unfamiliar, fuses get shorter and the fatigue that accompanies a day’s travel can quickly set alight a short fuse.

Knowing this, it was risky to travel to Ireland with Laura two years ago. We were a part of the same Bible study and shared many friends, but we’d never spent much time hanging out without a group of buffers. The first sign that things would go well was when we each took some time to do independent research and came up with a list of places we wanted to visit. When we got together, our lists were very similar. The planning stages of itineraries, maps, and online hostel reservations made us both giddy with anticipation.

Arriving in Ireland, I was anxious. What would it be like to have only Laura with me for two weeks? Would we tire of each other? There was no need to worry, because traveling with Laura was easy. Both teachers, we understood in the importance of going to the bathroom whenever one was available. Neither wanted to spend a lot of money, so breakfast and lunch foods were bought at grocery stores when we had the chance. Instead of letting exhaustion and frustration turn us against each other, we acknowledged them, vented, got some sleep and moved on. As a result, I remember my trip to Ireland not only for the spectacular sights, but also for the thoughtful conversations that were had on buses and DART trains.

Two years later, Laura is married and settled in a lovely home. She has a thriving garden (complete with homemade topsy-turvy planters) and a screened-in porch that is perfect for hosting pot-luck dinners and lively conversations. In her home, it is typical to find her engaged in a project (experimenting with a recipe or painting a room), but you’re also just as likely to find her curled up with warm coffee and a good book.

It’s the contrast that makes Laura someone I love to be around. She is completely at ease in her home or climbing over a fallen tree on a hike. She will cook a whole chicken for her friends, or drain a pint in a Galway pub with equal grace.

Just this morning she and I headed off for an adventure*. It’s great to have someone who enjoys traveling and stomping around in the woods with me. But I also love the intellectual adventures we share: a women’s book club, and a subscription to our town’s theater. Whether our adventures are intercontinental or cerebral, we always seem to keep in step with each other. No matter how far we travel, I am always at home with her.

*Addendum: Laura and I were turned on to letterboxing by a friend of Emily’s last week. This morning we headed into the wilds of the Uwharrie National Forest in search of a letter box, along with another near the Pisgah Covered Bridge in Randolph County.

Thanks to Wikipedia: "Letterboxing is an outdoor hobby that combines elements of orienteering, art, and puzzle solving. Letterboxers hide small, weatherproof boxes in publicly-accessible places (like parks) and distribute clues to finding the box in printed catalogs, on one of several web sites, or by word of mouth. Individual letterboxes usually contain a notebook and a rubber stamp. Finders make an imprint of the letterbox's stamp, either on their personal notebook or on a postcard, and leave an impression of their personal stamp on the letterbox's "visitors' book" or "logbook" — as proof of having found the box and letting subsequent letterboxers see who have visited. Many letterboxers keep careful track of their "find count"."