It was a lovely first day in Chapel Hill, aka "Amba-land." Annie, Jacques and I feasted on bagels and coffee, then went for a long walk along a creekside walking and biking trail near their apartment complex, on a mild day under a sky they call "Carolina Blue".
I forget how small Annie is until I see her; and when I see the way she has to hoist and push and lift Jacques, thousands of times a day, I come to vividly understand both how she stays in shape and how she perpetually teeters on the brink of exhaustion, which she only permits herself to feel and express on those rare occasions when help shows up (I'm not sure I qualify, but I'm trying).
On our walk, I offered to push Jacques' wheelchair for a while. Jacques weighs close to 300 pounds; Chapel Hill has more hills than chapels -- and it has a lot of chapels. "Wow," Annie said, "it feels weird to have my arms swinging by my sides like this." I was wheezing and grunting with the effort.
Jacques is in a weak period physically, and sometimes he's confused, but on this walk he was very alert to nature -- a hawk flying overhead, the kudzu-strangled trees, and the steady stream of friendly dogs on the trail (one of which, a young golden retriever, was fond of Jacques but spooked by the wheelchair). Time and place are blurred to him, but people and animals, and the details of the physical world, are still clear in his mind, warranting his attention and eliciting his usual profanity-peppered commentary.
A home health care aide came tonight, and Annie and I drove out into the countryside to visit old friends of mine -- friends from my years spent in Chapel Hill getting an MFA in acting at the university here. It was a three-year period, more than two decades ago -- a vivid, idiotic time in my life. Ironically, during my last year here, my then-wife and I lived one apartment complex over from where Annie and Jacques now live. It feels familiar, but I don't recognize anything.
I haven't been back here since I left in 1986, but the muddy water, the stolid, endless stands of pine, and the local accent, telescoped time in my mind with the nearly ageless comfort of coffee and bagels with Annie and Jacques -- a pleasure that sustained me through my otherwise-miserable years in New York City.
So today, past lives of mine came together in one place and were embraced by the present -- a distinct pleasure, a rare and reassuring gift, of getting older.
--T.A.
Many of your posts are wise and many are beautiful - this one is both.
Enjoy your visit, David -
Posted by: Starry | March 01, 2007 at 08:44 AM
Thank you for this lovely glimpse of lives I care about. And for the line about chapels and hills.
Posted by: Richard Lawrence Cohen | March 01, 2007 at 09:25 AM
What Richard said. Exactly.
Posted by: meade | March 01, 2007 at 10:33 AM
Great post and I loved the visual cross-referencing on your sister's site. I remain a fervent devotee of the Gottlieb clan and would like to submit my application for membership (not that I'm renouncing my own family—can I apply for dual citizenship?)
Posted by: Danny | March 01, 2007 at 11:46 AM
I'm enjoying the family get-together on both sites.
Posted by: Melinda | March 01, 2007 at 12:24 PM
Starry: you're so sweet.
Richard: you're sweet, too.
Meade: I don't know you well enough to know if you're sweet or not, but thank you!
Danny: You're in.
Melinda: You shoulda been here.
Posted by: david | March 01, 2007 at 03:01 PM
Hey, I've been in the triangle this week too. It's gorgeous here, isn't it? Heading back to Ohio tomorrow. Hope you have a few more good days with amba, J - and the weather.
Posted by: Alison | March 01, 2007 at 06:39 PM
David, i'll vouch for Meade- he's great.
So are you.
Posted by: karen | March 02, 2007 at 07:36 AM