Exiting the Bubble
ICE Be Damned, We Got on a Plane and Went to ISCE
Six years ago, when I moved to Saratoga, I bought a coffee table book called Love Where You Live and then proceeded to do just that. It was a design book, about making your home the place you most want to be. New homes are good for new beginnings, and Paul and I needed one. We were launching our marriage (second for us both) and launching a life removed from busy day jobs. It worked! New town, new home, new friends, new life.
When I was growing up, my parents took the new house thing a little far. We moved all the time. Sometimes it was just up the block, or across town. Once we crossed an ocean. I made a list: I’d lived in 13 different homes by the time I graduated high school. It was my father’s work (academia) that took us places, and my parents’ collective drive to live a life of adventure that kept us scrambling. They liked the variety, each house or apartment with a personality of its own. Money played a part, too. When there was some we lived high. When there wasn’t we downsized to cheaper digs. With each move, we took our prized possessions, we took our dog. Sometimes our own furniture, sometimes we lived in furnished rentals.
The transience led my sister, brother, and me to all choose adult lives with less upheaval. Loving Where We Lived and Staying Mostly Put describes us. My own children may dispute me on the Staying Put point: I uprooted them once for a cross-country job opportunity (18 months in LA, it didn’t work out), and once for divorce. But I defend those choices, and sleep at night knowing resiliency was gained. My parents defended their choices, too. Stability shmability was their motto. “Such great houses you got to live in!”
As much as I Love Where I Live, I am also happy every time I exit the bubble. Last week that was a quick trip to Brooklyn to see my sons. The change of dinner options alone was exhilarating: Palestinian take-out one night, French bistro the next, where I had anchovy frites—whole, fresh, fried, served with a pot of mayonnaise. Thank you, Jessica Harris, for recommending French Louis. Thank you, Mickey, for ordering all the things I adore from Ayat.
This week I’m in Tucson, accompanying Paul, who is attending a conference. It’s hot as hell in Arizona, but also refreshing: Sagauros outside my front door instead of snow, bright blue sky day after day after day.
Paul is increasingly content to Stay Put these days, but there are a few cherished meetings from his working days that tempt him out of town. ISCE tops the list: the International Society for Computerized Electrocardiology(!). Every spring, a devoted group of engineers, doctors, nurses, and entrepreneurs—all keenly interested in this subspecialty—gather for a week of meetings, meals, and occasional mayhem. Deep friendships have developed over the years among the attendees and among us tag-alongs, too. These people! Linda & Bob, Dona & Dave, Ria & Johan, Irene & Peter, Barbara & Denis, Kathy & Brian, Grazyna & Wojciech, Michele & Rory, Allesandra & Fabio, Julianna & Konrad, AJ & Morry, Matte & Kees. We all leave the comfort of our own homes every year and meet up somewhere different to breathe fresh air together.
ISCE celebrated its 50th meeting this year. Paul has achieved veteran status (battle scars!) along with a handful of others he considers among his closest friends. But there are new, young people joining up, too, and it’s fun to meet them and imagine this org sailing into the future. They even have a theme song, an infectious hack job of the Toby Keith’s I Love This Bar, which the tireless Barbara Drew updates each year with a slide show featuring new photos of ISCE’s own winners, losers, chain-smokers and boozers. Like the last night of summer camp, the song closes out the final dinner and everyone hugs and cries, “See You Next Year!”
The bittersweet farewell gives way to the joy of hitting our own pillows once we’re home. It’s always to good to get back, of course. I’ve tweaked my parents’ motto: Love Where You Live, but get out of Dodge when you can.
We are about to depart on a 10 day road trip home to Saratoga after spending two months in Dana Point CA. Wintering here was a process but as it turns out it's huge upgrade over the F- word state. It's off season so vacation housing is more affordable and there's lots to see and explore. Having family nearby makes it even more special. So Flagstaff, Santa Fe x2, Denver, Lincoln, Davenport, Chicago x2 and Cleveland are on deck before reuniting with our favorite pillows. Keep up your terrific writing!
Get out of Dodge when you can is so very true. Thank you Pam, another pleasure of a read