DIGITAL BLISS

Snapfish rocks! Have you tried it?

HARDY COURT

Every time I watch a movie at a Rave or Cinemark Theater, I think about the improvements that movie houses have made in the last couple of decades. Can you imagine doing without stadium seats with cushy padding and cup holders? But for all their amenities, there’s a missing quality in these new megaplexes, something special that my old hometown theater had. It seemed like it was my theater, like it existed just for me.

The seats at the Hardy Court Theater were sticky, uncomfortable and smelled a little like dirty socks, but they were the first place I watched a big screen film. In 1986, I turned 12. Previous years my parents threw me a regular birthday bash with a cake and balloons. Desperate to grow up, that year I asked for something other than a kiddie party, so Mom drove my friend Steve and me to the theater. I can recall a few sketchy details of that evening. I know what gifts I received. My parents gave me a Swatch and an Ocean Pacific sweater; Steve gave me a Transformer. The food is a little less clear, but I think we went to Baskin Robbins for ice cream after the flick. More vivid are my memories of the theater and the movie. I perceived them as a milestone - a first taste of adult life, so both made a big impression.

Flight of the Navigator is about a 12-year-old boy (one hit wonder Joey Cramer) who’s abducted by aliens. He ends up in the care of a robot (voiced by Paul Reubens), and he must fight to return home. It’s a coming of age story, and the boy gradually learns to make his own decisions and to “navigate” life. There’s a time travel twist that complicates things for him. When the boy returns to Earth, he finds he has traveled 8 years into the future. To his confused dismay, everything once familiar is now different, and everyone he loved has changed. It’s that discontinuity, life flying by as he slowly matures, that I identify with now. It sustains the original memory - the connection fostered that night.

Many changes are driven by people’s constant desire for improvement – bigger, better, faster, more. So it’s appropriate, if not totally symbolic, that the Hardy Court Theater closed in 1987 to make room for a laser tag maze. A new and improved theater across town took its place. I saw many shows there as a teenager, but I never felt that same special connection with a movie or a theater, like I did at the Hardy Court watching Flight of the Navigator.

THE MATCH GAME

Am I having an early midlife crises brought on by hurricane displacement? On a whim, I logged onto a match making service and took the personality quiz! Mostly I was taking it for self-discovery purposes, not expecting anyone to respond to my profile. I wondered whose personality the super computer would suggest as a match. Lo and behold, a couple of women (who live far away) have shown interest.

I'm more shy than I thought. It's taken me two days just to get used to the idea - and to work up the nerve, and today I'm going to respond to their inquiries.

What's your opinion of online match making? What about long distance relationships?

WIT

Sa and I just watched a chick flick: Mike Nichols' Wit. I picked it up at the library, thinking she would appreciate an Emma Thompson picture. At the end, while my sister was bawling her head off, she reached over and slugged me. "Don't ever bring another movie like that into my house."

Regardless of Sa's reaction, I think it was good for us to watch it. Seeing somebody die of cancer really puts things into perspective. Bravo to Ms. Thompson for her performance.

What is your favorite tearjerker?

HOLY WATER IN A SIPEE CUP

I took my neice to preschool this a.m. She was late. It took me 10 minutes to get her into the child safety seat. She was cooperative. It was the seat that gave me problems. Mysteriously, it was no longer attached to the car. And two of the straps were twisted. As I wrestled with the seat, struggling to reattach it and straighten the belts, it seemed to take on its very own personality (not a nice one, by any means). I think I will nickname the thing "Emily Rose." Please don't get the impression that I am planning to see that movie. Have you seen the preview? I had to get up and leave, it freaked me out so much.

When I pick up a novel, I may get a movie from the Hoover library tonight. I dropped off a couple of books there the other night for my sister. It was so much better than my last library - the one my class just visited on a field trip. Hoover has the nicest small branch I've ever seen, and it was packed at 9 at night! It has wireless internet, as well as computer stations. And the selection of books, periodicals and movies was top notch. Forget checking out the mall or country club. When I'm picking a new town, one of the things I'm going to check out is the library; I want to make sure I relocate to a community of avid readers.

I just finished reading my last novel, and I'm hungry for more. It took me a little longer than usual to finish it; my neices and nephew love to climb all over me while I'm trying to read. I usually ended up putting my book away and reading one of theirs, so at least we clocked some good literary time together. My favorite book of theirs so far is Love that Dog by Sharon Creech. It's written like a child's response journal. The main character begins writing poetry. It reminds me of my own students, and my own feelings about writing.

A BURGER BY ANY OTHER NAME

I heard my surname more times during my first year of teaching than I had during the previous years of my life combined. The students whined it every few minutes, and with each request I hated the sound of my own name more. The effect was so nerve-wracking that my own last name began to echo in my waking thoughts and to haunt my dreams.

One day I had finally had enough of the students’ calling. I wrote my name on the board and crossed through it. “This is no longer my name,” I instructed. From now on, my new name is, “Here’s five dollars.” Use my new name in place of the old one. For example, if you need to borrow an eraser, you will now address me in this way: “Here’s five dollars, can I borrow an eraser?” If you need the bathroom pass, you should say, “Here’s five dollars, can I have the pass?”

The new name only lasted for a day, but it broke the strain of hearing my real name repeated so frequently. The nightmares stopped and my sense of humor returned.

That wasn't the first time work had given me funny dreams. For my first job, I did a stint at the local fast food dive the summer after my high school senior year. I had a girlfriend and dates to support, so I worked a lot of hours. After the first few weeks, I started dreaming about taking people's orders. Then one morning, when the alarm clock rang, instead of rolling over to turn it off, I woke up saying, "May I take your order?"

REUNION

I'm sorry I didn't ask R. for a date. If I could live my senior year over, I'd ask her. I'd had a crush on her since kindergarten. She might have said yes. Insecurity stopped me from making the first move. Now I'll never know what might have been.

I have a handful of teenage regrets like this one, only a few. Summed up, I had a satisfying teen experience. High school was a fun time. It would be hard to ask for more, really. But I don't put those years on a pedestal, and they were not the best years of my life. In that respect, I'm in a slim minority when compared with my classmates.

Lets go back two years, to 2003. My 10 year high school reunion was painful. As I maneuvered the room between tables of ex-classmates, I got the sense that some voodoo witchdoctor had hexed everyone, removing the living part of them - and leaving shells. My diagnosis was an easy one - the smell of death was everywhere. Their dreams were beyond resurrection, and their funk overshadowed the festivity. And something else constantly resonated under the feeble party music "I was happy, once" was the evening's theme.

The star quarterback was bald, and the head cheerleader was fat. Their lives had turned out differently than they'd hoped, and they had changed for the worse. They had stopped making plans for the future and had lost hope in a happier tomorrow. My '93 graduation address to the class came back to mind several times during the evening, the words echoing back hollow and meaningless. Who had I been talking to that night? Were these really the same people? It wasn't just the gowns and mortar boards that were missing. Where were the bright faces, shining eyes, and hopeful grins? Maybe college, careers, marriage, and children were not what they had expected, but was it all so bad? Bad enough to make them bitter and hopeless? It was the saddest funeral I've ever attended: RIP youthful optimism. Not to mention good looks.

I (of course) found myself in a different place that summer night. I was optimistic about my very promising future. I looked better than I had in high school. My dreams weren't dead, just pruned. Life was balancing itself out so that I'd have a stable foundation for the next fifty years. Was it my faith in God that made me different? I thought so at the time. The witch doctor could just shove it. I was never going to be a zombie.

That was just pride on my part. Now I think I was immature. I hadn't avoided the same place the rest of my class was in. I just hadn't reached it yet - the place they had been living in for a year or two - or more. But here I am in that place now. The ghosts of my classmates greeted me upon arrival. They are glad to help me mourn my losses. Drawn to my dead dreams, they circle around me, whispering, "I used to be happy." Should I mimic their refrain? Stop dreaming? Lose faith? What am I doing?

AIMLESS

Yep.

GET A HAIRCUT AND GET A REAL JOB

Where do I begin? OK. First off, thanks to everyone who's been praying for my family and friends. God is faithful!

Christen is alive! She was rescued during the hurricane and taken to a total stranger's house, where she has been staying without phone access. She couldn't have called us anyway, because she did not have anyone's phone number memorized. She had plugged them into the cell phone and all she had to do was enter the shortcut code or say our names. Not knowing anyone's phone number! There's a new hazard of modern living! I realized that I'm just as guilty; I only know two phone numbers of loved ones. I guess I need to memorize some more just in case I lose my phone during an emergency.

My apartment was gross - black mold and mildew. It took two days to box up my stuff and drive it up to my parents' house for storage. During that time the exposure to the toxins in the apartment made me ill - I'll spare you a list of symptoms. Man, I wish I had worn gloves and a mask. I thought I was smarter than that!

I'm shuffling between family member's houses until I can figure out what I'm doing. Steve is still serving in New Orleans, so his place is my eventual destination. Jenny is staying with my cousin in Hattiesburg since Southern Miss Hattiesburg classes started this week. They are redoing her apartment for her, but it will take a couple of weeks. My apartment complex released me from my lease since my place is unlivable. They said they were just glad I turned my keys in since most of the residents had left and not turned in their keys or told the manager if they were coming back or not.

Terry and Jo went down to Florida for a couple of weeks to get away from the mess and sort things out. Terry already is starting to sound normal again. I think we are all coming out of the shock we've been in. I got a haircut today and shaved. I was starting to look like Tom Hanks in that shipwreck movie. I guess getting a haircut is moving one step closer to finding a job (if that song is right). How much longer will I be living out of a suitcase?

CHRISTEN

Terry called on his cell phone. He turned Christen's name and description in to the morgue. Bodies of people who were washed out to sea are washing in every day. The local government is afraid of a dysentery outbreak. Terry and Jo went to look at a shelter that they were considering staying in for a day or two. They said people were going to the bathroom in the middle of the restroom floor because the toilets were so full. Of course, they won't be staying there. Terry said that the riots had gotten a lot better now that there are curfews and a stronger police presence.

He is finally starting to realize that he and Jo can't live there anymore. I've been trying to tell him that for a week, but with the stress he's having trouble processing what I'm saying. (Apparently he's got the same brain thing I have had this week). He finally said, "Where am I going to go to school? How will I finish my degree on time when the campus is gone? I have to move."

Coastal authorities are not issuing a mandatory evacuation, but they are encouraging people who can leave to leave. That would include me, since I'm already gone. OK, so where do I go? The news reports say lots of people in damaged areas are wandering aimlessly. They didn't report that evacuees are wandering aimlessly, too. If you go to the strip malls here in Birmingham, you see lots of MS and LA tags in the parking lot.

To update you on our travel plans, we did go south yesterday. We split into two teams. Daniel and Jasper went to Purvis. They had a difficult time convincing the police to let them through the road block. They brought the water and other supplies to mom and dad, but they couldn't convince them to evacuate. I can't understand their reasoning. When I spoke to Mom on Jasper's cell, she would only talk about me. She's been worried about me. It was good to hear her voice.

Driving south with Jenny was like living out a doomsday epic - the damage worsened as we approached home. We had gas cans in the blazer so that we could fill up before heading back north. Because of the gas shortage and because of terrible rumors we've heard, we were afraid someone might try to steal our gas. Once we left Alabama, there were bags over the pumps of most of the stations we passed. The ones that were open had long lines. We were impressed with the number of police and military who were making the drive with us. They were everywhere, thank God.

Jenny and I checked out her apartment in Hattiesburg. She spent our time there crying and processing the loss emotionally. I folded her clothes and put them in bags to take back. Her living room furniture is a total loss from water damage. Water poured down inside her walls and under the cracks below her doors. All the doors in her apartment had to be forced open and the smell of mildew was overpowering. The walls in the living room, dining room and bath are covered in mildew and black mold. She has to find somewhere to stay before classes start back at Southern. Her grad program is only a year, so they have to resume quickly. She talked to somebody on campus and found out that they are cutting holidays to make up the lost time.

Jasper and Daniel got caught by the curfew and had to spend the night at Mom and Dads. They have half my gas cans, so I can't go to the Coast until they return. I'm trying to figure out if I should even go down there yet. Terry got my important papers out of the apartment. I'd like to try to get down there tomorrow to bring Terry and Jo some supplies (if they won't leave now) and maybe even salvage something from the apartment. Terry went and checked it out. It's not destroyed, like I first thought. But it is water damaged, and he said it stinks to high heaven.

MOM AND DAD

My parents just got through on the phone! Dad is talking to Sa right now. He's saying they need water and a bunch of supplies. Good thing we just found out that the roads opened up going south. Sa is trying to convince Mom and Dad to come back to B'ham with us.

Jenny's Grandparents finally got phone service and called Jenny's mom to find out why nobody had come looking for them. We tried to explain that nobody had contact with their entire town, and that nobody could get in or out, so we didn't know what had happened to them and were more worried than they were.

Steve used a pay phone in New Orleans to call us yesterday! He was down by the Aquarium of the Americas. He had no idea that the MS Coast had been hit. He'd gone straight to New Orleans before the storm hit there when his Nat Gaurd unit was activated. It's so weird to think that I stood by that same payphone on July 4th watching fireworks and listening to a brass band. Now he's there surrounded by floodwaters and troops carrying machine guns!

We had been planning on checking out the damage at Jenny's apartment in Hattiesburg tomorrow morning, but it looks like we'll be going a little further south to Mom and Dad's instead. It will be good to see them. I hope that we can convince them to leave and come back with us until power and water are restored there. Wondering when I can try to salvage some things from my apartment. I am sick of wearing the same clothes day after day, but I don't want to buy new ones if I can salvage some of the ones in Gulfport.

Still no word on Christen. I put her name on all the missing persons lists that I could find online today. I am not going to give up hope!

AFTERMATH

I never dreamed that the damage would be this bad. My town is gone. It looks like a nuclear bomb hit it. My apartment building is destroyed. The city has no power, water, sewage or gasoline. There's a curfew from 7 to 7. Officially, the roads are blocked for everyone but official vehicles, but the authorities are letting people leave.

My roommate Terry and his girlfriend Jo are both trapped. The only way to contact them is text messaging. They are begging to be rescued; they don't have enough gas to leave. There is a shortage of gas here-all over. There are no gas containers either. People are raising the prices to $30 for a 5-gallon plastic gas can! I found a stash of 1-gallon containers at a hardware store and bought 50 of them. I'm planning on going down Monday if they will open the roads. I'll check the damage at the apartment and bring Terry enough gas to get out of there.

I don't know where I'm going to live and work now. The estimates say it will be months before we have working power and sewage/water. That means I'll have to move. I'm looking at options, probably somewhere close to family. My top three are Birmingham AL, Oxford MS, and Ruston LA. Or should I move to Japan and teach English? Maybe I can do that when I'm debt free.

My brother Steve is a National Guardsman. He was sent to watch over the refugees at the Superdome. They are being moved, and Steve is being outfitted with a machine gun and armor to patrol the streets of New Orleans. His kids are freaked. He's too old to be doing that, they think. He gave us a 30 second phone call to tell us what he would be doing. He said he would be in New Orleans doing that for at least a month, and that we should not expect any communication with him during that time. What's the deal with that? Even soldiers during the world wars had mail. How are we supposed to manage his finances without being able to talk with him again? And a cop and a guardsman have already been shot. Rescue workers were crying into their phones and refusing to land helicopters because they were scared of the people with guns. That's what Steve is facing? Why aren't they sending in young federal troops to assist and relieve them?

And why haven't they started fund raising to help the poor people who have lost everything and have no other way of getting help? What's going on with the president and congress? The governors can't do this by themselves? I want more on the news about relief efforts.

I'm wondering what to do about my bills. How do I cancel utilities and my rental agreement in the middle of this mess, and can they still try to hold me to them? The credit card gave me two months of no payments and zero interest til '07 on new purchases made from now til December. That offer surprised me.

I think my best bet would be to move into my brother's house in Louisiana while he is gone and to try to get a job teaching in Ruston. Tons of refugee children from Southern LA are enrolling and will need teachers. At least I could get get a full time sub position.

I just keep thinking of the life I had on the Coast and how it would be impossible for me to live there now. No dinner at Gregg's next week. No running with Algernon in the morning. No biking with Chris and Wendy. No church on Wednesday night or homegroup on Tuesday. No field trip to the museum with my class. No camping with Josh and Rachel next month. No living with Terry and helping him and Jo with the wedding. No getting to know Ryan. No dance class. No auditions for plays. No festivals in Ocean Springs. No hockey games with Brice. No shopping. No late night dinners at Mary Mahoney's. No walks on the beach. No cooking waffles for Terry or making milkshakes for Jo. No Christmas party for the class. No spring break trip. No games and cookies with Chris & Katie. No shared laughs with Christen....maybe never again. Oh God, where is Christen?

It's like I just died, or at least a part of me did...and I don't have time to grieve. Even if I could take the time to grieve, other people are determined not to let me do so. I feel so helpless anyway, and at the mercy of others' good graces and well-intentioned but unwanted words of advice and glib "wisdom." They haven't ever been through anything like this, so I wish they'd just be quiet and give me some space - and allow me to make my own decisions about what I have to do next.

I am scared about Christen Wirth. She and her mom refused to leave their house on Oceanview. Terry said their house is not there anymore. It washed into the ocean. They are missing, maybe dead, and the Red Cross won't let me put them on the missing persons' list because I'm not a family member. How stupid is that? They don't have any family members to report them missing. Bureaucracy is from the pit of hell and only hurts people. Damn their paperwork and procedures. I can't find my friend and Terry and I are the closest thing she had to family who are here and who can ask somebody to find them! I don't even remember her Dad's first name. How am I supposed to find him so he can put her on the list? How is he - all the way in Colorado - supposed to know that she is missing and report her?

Seeing the overhead footage of the destruction only reminded me of all the happy memories I have of living on the coast for the past 8 years. Burying myself and Chris and Terry in the sand in our tuxedos. Wishing that night I could live in the beach house - and then moving in there with Terry a year later. Jason waking me up at the crack of dawn to eat French toast - scaring me to death bangin on my windows. The cookout with fireworks and bonfire when I met Josh and his dog. Being in Josh and Rachel's wedding. Teaching with Erinne. The road trips with Terry and Jo and Kristen and...Christina. Visiting Terry at the Fire Station. Visiting Jesse at the Fire Station. Going to Marine Life with Alan - and saying goodbye to my life in Hattiesburg that weekend. Dating Chris...for better or for worse. Trying to get to know the enigma that is Ken Tims. Helping John write his Valedictory speech. Cooking Thanksgiving dinner for my parents at the beach house. Trying to help Richie. Friendship with Billy D. My secret crush on Bridgette. Early morning donuts at Tato Nut. Hockey and football with Rob. Running with Casey. Running with Algernon. Steak dinners at Captain Al's with Chris Creel. Working out with Jerry. Living with Jack and Sandee. Living with Josh and - God help me - Casey and Warren and Tony and Jesse (and Teddy) and Matt. Teaching with Kim. Acting with Ryan. Eating Paul's King cakes. Teaching Zeke, Elizabeth, and Alyssa. I love the Coast. I love its people. And when I finally realize that, I still know I have to leave and start over. But, where?