On traditions...

I just spent three days back home in Maine. It was honestly the perfect amount of time. I stopped just short of boredom and was able to hit the brakes to a screeching halt before complete irritation with my mother set in. That's probably not entirely true to form, however, as just 1 day and overnight was devoted to her. Oh well, I'll take it either way.

With every trip home I'm typically dismayed by the increasing lack of connection I feel to the place. This is always disconcerting to me, as I credit Maine for shaping who I am and wonder what deeper meaning such disconnection may actually mean. Nevertheless, I was much more focused on how relaxed I felt during this trip. Deeply and utterly chill. Perhaps because I got an excellent bite in my job search, perhaps because the upcoming changes in my life, while major, seem to be all for the good and taking most favorable turns. Perhaps it was because the number of life changes going on gave everyone plenty of topic for conversation and the emptiness of awkward silences made fewer appearances, leaving me less pressured to fill them.

I was also struck by the family traditions that were able to seep through despite such a short window of time. Most of our traditions revolve around food, though little of it is prepared ourselves:

* The two dinners with dad were spent at Bugaboo Creek and Ricetta's. It's been many years since we stepped foot in a restaurant together that didn't involve a talking mechanical moose or pizza.
* Mom made popovers the morning after our lobster dinner. Even though I bought the lobsters for her belated birthday dinner, I made her cook them (aka, plunge them into hot boiling water to their hellish demise). I am a despicable daughter.
* Family dinner at my uncle's. This time, traditional sarcasm was served alongside a delicious cookout.

Other traditions? SPORTS! Red Sox, Celtics, US Open Golf. Constantly. And when I fell asleep during the Celtics game, my father continued the tradition of posting the final score on the bathroom door so it was the first thing I saw when I woke up.

I laughed out loud. That's a personal favorite.

Oh, and there were plenty of tears, as is tradition. Really, it's not as bad as it sounds. My dad and I just get into these reflective conversations and one of us always manages to lose our cool. If anyone ever wonders why I'm such an emotional bugger, they can blame my dad. Simultaneously one of the toughest guys I know and the weepiest bloke in the world when it comes to me and inspirational sports stories. My father broke down talking about both Jon Lester's no hitter and his regret that his parents never got to see everything I achieved . Seriously, I never had a shot a emotional normalcy. And don't get me started on the waterworks endured due to Tim Russert's passing. An Irish Catholic whose son just graduated BC? He was basically family.

Accents. One of my most endearing (or most annoying, depending on who you are) attributes is how I pick up whatever accent I'm around. This should be particularly funny once I make my move down Raleigh way, but I always fall a little bit in love with the slightest Maine accent I take on when I'm home. Never in front of my mother, of course, who forbade me to have one, but around my dad and his side of the family, convenience store clerks, you name it.

Finally, whenever I'm back home, I'm always reminded of just where I got my kindness from. My apologies if that sounds egotistical, but the fact that I'm apologizing for it shows you I'm not all that bad. From the TSA employees to the restaurant host to my family. People just go out of their way to make you feel welcome there, and perhaps that is the most important general lesson I've ever taken from the place and one I never hope to lose. I'm often saddened by the general lack of kindness I feel from people, and not just strangers, but those to whom I'm be introduced by a friend or colleague. People just don't go out of their way for what isn't directly relevant to them. And I guess there's nothing wrong with that. But there's something about a general kindness of strangers that always puts a spring in my step. And if I'm introduced to you by a friend or colleague, I'm going to go out of my way to get to know you a little. Sure, maybe this will be the first and last time that I will ever see you, but that doesn't make the impression I leave with you any less important. After all, maybe our paths will cross again. Still, even if they don't, I owe it to the person introducing us to give you my best. That alone is enough for me.

And even if you're just seating me at a restaurant, I know we have the power to set the tone for each other's next few hours. Quite frankly, I want no part in being the catalyst to your crappy shift.

Good food, kindness, emotion, sports and accents. Maybe my next trip home won't take so long to happen next time.