When I worked at More magazine 800 years ago (and with my Long Island accent I’d often have to clarify, “MORE, not WAR”), I often worked on a page called “A Day in the Life.” I started off fact-checking it, then came to edit it and got a by-line with it, Amy Gioia, even though it was interview-based with direct quotes and no creative writing was involved. Still, my first one was on a celebrity photographer named Dana Fineman-Appel, and I was proud. She lived in LA and I called her on the phone. I remember checking that the recording device hooked up to the phone worked correctly at least three times. She told me about her hectic days as a working photographer and a mom, as well as great anecdotes about shooting various celebrities (it was either her or a photographer I interviewed for the contributors page who told me one of my favorite stories about Ellen Degeneres, about getting her to try to focus, about what beautiful eyes she has). The interview was then chopped up and arranged into a timeline, 8:30 a.m. . .
If I were to interview myself similarly, I can’t think of one thing I’d be able to say about today.
8:30 a.m., break up a wrestling match that erupted over wanting to watch Cinderella vs. Jake and the Neverland Pirates?
It’s just one of those days that is spinning. It’s all been a blur.
I caught bits and pieces of a promo for the Today Show this morning. I heard Al Roker say something like all you can do is be the best you can be everyday….(or something like that, see yesterday, hallucinating, Mucinex…)
Maybe the secret to happiness is accepting what your best is. Not so much lowering the bar for achievement, but rather knowing you can still be doing your best without everything having to be “the best.” Maybe this secret is knowing the difference.
I just drove you guys around town for thirty minutes in this icy rain so you could sleep. I blasted the heat and put on Frank Sinatra (a combo that has the best sleep-sucess rate). At one point I sneezed and suddenly couldn’t see, so I wiped my eye with the back of my hand and then proceeded to drive the rest of the way with an eye booger on my knuckle. There it sat, like a flag staked into the top of a mountain…dammit, I was here!
Your dad had that first “A Day in the Life” article with my by-line printed for me and professionally mounted. Like I said, I was proud.
Today I drove around in the icy rain with two kids sleeping in the backseat. Later today, I’m going to make one of those Perdue roaster chickens. Some baked potatoes. Some corn–it’s your favorite.
Maybe I should be proud, too.