March 19, 2024 - Rock, Walls, Closure, Movies
After a rocky start in 1880's Orlando, I sit on a wall, brunch in Palm Beach and catch up on a couple Oscar nominees.
Nuggets of Information: A Big Rock in a Small Town
The man in the photo above is Charles Rock Sr., of the Orlando Rocks - my great-grandfather. He and his wife arrived in Orlando in 1885, when there wasn’t much there at all. According to his obituary, which we discovered in an old photo album:
“Mr. Rock began life in Orlando way back yonder when there were few if any sidewalks, when sand was the chief covering for streets, when bars flourished and cowboys rode high, wide and handsome thru Orange Avenue.”
Charles Sr. was one of a handful of folks who put Orlando on the map, taking it from a small dusty hamlet to a vibrant, bustling city. He surveyed the area, figured out where the center of town should be, built his bakery, and then the entire business block. Others quickly followed his lead and Orlando started growing. Family lore tells that when Walt Disney started buying up land for his Happiest Place on Earth, the Rocks were happy to sell. In the minds of us kids, this meant Cinderella’s Castle was built on our family land.
Charles Sr. enjoyed hunting and baseball, boxing and wrestling matches, and was a dedicated family man. He had five daughters, and one son, Charles Jr. - my grandfather – my mother’s dad. Charles Jr. also lived in Orlando, ran a sporting goods store and managed a Sherwin Williams paint store. One of Charles Sr.’s daughters, Mary Tinker, was married to Joe Tinker, a professional baseball player from 1902-1916 for the Chicago Cubs and Cincinnati Reds. If you’re familiar with the poem “Baseball’s Sad Lexicon” you may have heard the phrase “Tinkers-to-Evers-to-Chance.” Yep – that's my grand-uncle!
Charles Sr.’s love of boxing went way back – to when he saw the great John L. Sullivan box in Madison Square Garden before the turn of the 20th century. From his obit: “Up until the last few weeks before his fatal illness, he sat in his regular ringside chair, white cap, cane – his eyes shining brightly with the love of life and sports that never wavered despite advanced age and infirmities.” I wish I could have known him.
I’d like to think some of my great-grandfather's pioneer spirit and tough-guy strength is within me, as evidenced by my manly bowling skills, soft typing hands and 523-game Wordle streak. On the shoulders of giants!
Enrichment: Past Lives
I’ve spent the last few days at my family’s home in Florida, with my sisters, starting to go through 50 years of belongings, books, clothes and memories. Photo albums of parents, grandparents and even great-grandparents. All now just ghosts from the past. I lived in this house from age 5 until I went off to college at 18, then some college break summers, then less frequent visits from then on. My childhood in South Florida during the 70’s and 80’s was pretty great – especially summers. I spent a lot of time outside with my buddies from the neighborhood – horsing around in the pool, running around the golf course, climbing the huge oak trees in our back yard, riding bikes.
When I look at the picture at the top of this section, I am filled with yearning and wistfulness. I miss being that person. I miss being that boy. A boy, sitting on the brick wall in his back yard, watching cool big machines dredge out an area next to the 16th green of a golf course. Blond hair, tan skin, bathing suit. Fully present in the moment but filled with imagination and curiosity.
I remember how it felt to be young and carefree, knowing my life was mostly in front of me. Time stretched out and progressed so slowly. Now, time goes so fast. A year is nothing.
I need to reconnect with that boy inside. Find a wall somewhere to sit on, on a lazy summer afternoon, and just sit there and soak it all in. Try to reignite the imagination and curiosity of where my life may still take me. Spend a little time thinking about what I want to be when I grow up.
Workshop: Cleaning House
As we wind down our childhood home, and close out our parents’ estate, there is a lot to do, and at times it seems overwhelming. Can’t we just pay someone to take care of this for us? Can I grab the few things I want and NOT think about the rest? Can’t I just forget that they are gone?
It doesn’t work that way. Everything needs to be looked at, touched, considered. So much has meaning.
My dad’s funeral was in January, and after everyone else had flown home, I was here for a couple days by myself. It was too quiet – unsettling. Same house, but I felt that unlike the preceding 50 years, now it was different. I believed there wouldn’t be any new happy memories in this place. It switched back from a home to a house. Better to just close it down and move on.
But a funny thing happened on the expressway to closure. I looked at pictures of my mom as a little girl – a beautiful combination of cuteness and mischievousness. I read letters my dad wrote when he was 25 years younger than I am now, but still so wise and thoughtful. I walked around outside where I used to spend time as a boy. It has been a far more positive experience than I expected. A big credit for that goes to my sisters Blythe and Bridget. I’m so lucky to have them to go through this with. We work well together. We give support, or space – whichever is needed in the moment. We piece together those hazy gaps from our past, and our parents’ past.
The picture above is from brunch this past Sunday. We felt we deserved it. It was one of those “Pommes frites for the table, everyone shares desserts” kind of meals. It was fun. Our parents would have been delighted for us. I guess I was wrong – there are still new happy memories to be made in this place. For a little while longer, at least...
Selected Content: Holdover Fiction
While in Florida, after long days of emotional work, my sisters and I unwound by watching a couple great movies, both recent Academy Award nominees. First was American Fiction, directed by Cord Jefferson and starring Jeffrey Wright, Sterling K. Brown, Issa Rae, Leslie Uggums, Erika Alexander and Tracee Ellis Ross.
The primary storyline revolves around Wright’s character, Thelonious “Monk” Ellison, a novelist frustrated with how the publishing industry popularizes poorly written, exploitative, racial stereotype-heavy books. On a whim, Monk writes his own version of this trope, only to see it become wildly popular – more popular than any of his “real” works.
While the handling of this main story arc is artfully scripted, the sub plots around his family dynamics are what stood out for me. His relationship with his siblings, his mother and his neighbor are all rich and believable. I really enjoyed it.
The second movie we watched was The Holdovers, directed by Alexander Payne and starring Paul Giamatti, Dominic Sessa, Da’Vine Joy Randolph and Carrie Preston. The movie takes place (mostly) in a New England boarding school over winter break in 1970. Giamatti character, Paul Hunham, is stuck staying over break, watching over a few students who can’t get home. Beautifully shot, with a great soundtrack and sharp dialogue, The Holdovers was a delight. I was especially drawn to Sessa’s performance as a trouble-making student at risk for expulsion and Randolph’s role as the kitchen manager who is also reeling from the death of her son.
We went in to both movies hoping for something to take our minds off what we are dealing with in our childhood home, but each film had elements of family drama, and loss, and aging, and death. Characters who are trying to figure out how they ended up where they are, and how they can move forward and find purpose. Maybe that’s why they resonated so well with me and why I eagerly recommend both movies. American Fiction is available for rental on many platforms. The Holdovers is streaming on Peacock.
Compelled to share with you once again how lucky you were to have those parents, that childhood. And happy to know you know that.