4 seasons, 3 days, 2 eggs, 1 mom

...several Sufjan songs, and other cues that make me cry list.

[Hi, if you’re reading this one, it means that you support this operation continuing, which means more than you know.]

On my last Friday morning in Montreal, I walked uptown. (I don’t actually know what direction but where I ended up felt like a mix of midtown and upper east side if it were NYC.) Suddenly, I was one of three diners in a Four Seasons hotel restaurant at 8:00am. I looked around at the travelers; technically I was one too, but it was clear that unlike them, I was not a hotel guest.

I ordered eggs, toast, and coffee.
And waited for someone to yell, “she doesn’t even go here!”
But instead, they kept filling my coffee until I started buzzing. They passed me what would’ve been my fourth coffee in a to-go cup for the road. Drinking it would’ve sent my heart out of my chest but that’s the level of hospitality you’ll find at a Four Seasons.

I had a run in with their superior service once before. I attended a wedding at a Four Seasons property in Hawaii. While waiting in the lobby to return to my Airbnb (before I turned into a pumpkin), I asked a friend if she had ibuprofen. In what felt like seconds, I was delivered two Advils on a literal silver platter. This level of hospitality for even a non-guest stuck with me.

The day of my impromptu weekday breakfast, I talked to my mom on the phone. I often have an impulse to call her in the evenings, but usually I’m in LA and she’s in Michigan so a call to her at 11:00pm would knock her from a REM cycle.

So I took advantage of being in the same time zone to call her despite it being late. Awake and eager to chat, when she asked how my day was I told her about what I did that morning.

She said two things on the other end of the phone that illuminated why this ritual felt so good:

1. “Oh yeah I cannot make an egg for the life of me…never could…wish I could…” Her eggs were burnt yet soggy—they were somehow both over-and undercooked.

2. “Aw honey that’s beautiful, I’ve always wanted to stay at a Four Seasons my whole life...” 

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1. Nothing makes me nauseous more than thinking of my mom’s unsuccessful attempts at cooking.

2. Nothing makes me cry more than thinking of my mom’s unrealized wants.

I too may never master making an egg, but I will get my hardworking single mom to a Four Seasons.

Thanks,
Katie 

P.S. After talking to my mom that night, I got a text from a friend telling me her mom died unexpectedly. This is the fifth friend this year who has lost a parent. Between the bleak heartbreaking world news and the personal grief that’s part of our existence, of course the lists I write are insignificant. My hope in sending one is to give a moment of distraction or connection amidst the heaviness. And, a reminder, to follow the urge to call…regardless of how long it has been since you’ve talked… text him, email her. You’ll survive their reaction to your attempt at connection, even if it’s awkward.

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I repeated this routine twice more at two different hotels. The next two weren’t as great. Some experiences are unrepeatable, yet whenever I enjoy something I still attempt to figure out how to increase the dose.

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ENCORE:

(1) General Thoughts On Crying

(2) 14 Crying Cues

(3) Notes on Sufjan’s New Album

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(1)
*On Crying:

My manner of expressing emotion might not be what you’d expect, I’m much better at holding emotion in, than letting it out. Sadness manifests as numbness in me.

I’m more likely to leak a tear when I feel angry, regretful, or when witnessing other people access their emotions. At my grandparents funerals, it was watching my parents emote for their parents, that moved me to tears. When it happens—when I crack and let out tears—it’s a Pandora’s box. A movie could evoke it but then it snowballs until I’m unsure what it’s about. I just know I’d like it to continue until the feeling consumes me and spits me out.

Often that’s not possible logistically, so my ability to hold it in comes in handy.

Once,

there was a glitch where my strong aptitude to push down my big feelings was switched off. I experienced how people more embodied than I must feel permanently when a big feeling comes up at an inconvenient time. I felt like a raw nerve sensitive to everything.

I bumped into a friend on the street last week who told me about her surprising breakup. Oddly, I’d also run into her on the day of her last breakup a year ago. I cried as she told me the details and found myself nostalgic for the break up that let me to have such easy access to my emotions.

She texted me after, saying I was her break up guardian angel and that she pulled out the breakups zine I had given her after her last one. (It still exists here if you want a digital copy.) I hoped my outlook of looking at heartbreak as a fertile time for personal growth and for feeling pent up emotion was useful.

If there was a spectrum between hold it in & let it out…where would you fall?

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(2)
*13 Of My Top Crying Cues:

In addition to the crying cue about my mom, a list of media or situations that invoke tears in me. In no particular order:

1. Watching people get dropped off at airports.

2. An assortment of Sufjan songs, including: “Casimir Pulaski Day,” “Romulus” (The Detroit airport, a crying cue in its own right is located in Romulus Michigan), and the entirety of Carrie and Lowell.

3. Terry Gross’ Fresh Air interview with Maurice Sendak … this part specifically.

4. The scene when Margo gets off the train in The Royal Tenenbaums with Neko Case playing.

5. Several songs about family, most reliably: “The King of Carrot Flowers part II”

6. Witnessing someone trying extremely hard at their job, or trying hard at anything.