Marina and Lee and Me

A couple of weeks ago I read Stephen King’s 11/22/63.  If you haven’t read it yet – and think you might – STOP READING NOW.  I’ll be giving away a few plot lines ‘cause I’m nice like that.  Skip to the end if you don’t want to know about the book! 

Alrighty – only those people who have read or who aren’t ever going to read 11/22/63 should be reading this now.  First off, this isn’t one of those books that you toss in your carry-on to read on the plane – it’s HUGE.  It’s like 845 pages huge!  Now, if it’s on your Kindle, well, no biggie.  But if you actually went to a book store and bought the book – holy moly!  And the 11/22/63 bit of it is maybe about 25 of those pages!  So, definitely not as much assassination as I tend to like in my books!

Here’s the basic premise (which you already know because you read the book, right?) – what if you could go through a rabbit hole, back through time, and stop Lee Harvey Oswald from assassinating President John F. Kennedy? 

Of course, saving Kennedy won’t be easy because, like so many of us, the past doesn’t like to be changed.  And it’ll do everything in its power to stay the way it’s always been.  So, there are a lot of obstacles (like two facial disfigurements, a beat-down that lands someone in a coma, a bus crash, and on and on) that have to be survived on this quest.  But say you’re successful and you save Kennedy and all of humanity forevermore.  But do you really?  Because see, when the past is changed, so’s the future.  And when you make your trip back through the rabbit hole to 2011, well, Maine’s a province of Canada and things aren’t exactly peachy for the rest of humanity.  The main take away – the past should just stay the past.    

It’s all fiction, of course.  But it’s intriguing because what ifs are always intriguing. 

A few years ago, I met Priscilla Johnson McMillan, the author of the joint biography, Marina and Lee.  Ms. McMillan donated her personal papers to the National Archives and I went to her home in Cambridge, Mass to inventory and box up everything.  Professionally, it was a unique experience – for two and a half days, I worked in a backyard sifting through paper.  Personally, it was amazing.  See, Ms. McMillan happens to be the only person who knew both President Kennedy and Oswald (calling all conspiracy theorists!)  She knew Kennedy when he was a Senator and she later interviewed Oswald when he defected to the Soviet Union.  History certainly has its fair share of strange coincidences, doesn’t it?

There were many times during those couple of days that I stopped and thought what if?  What if Lee Harvey Oswald never defected to the Soviet Union?  What if he defected but decided to live out a long, peaceful life in Minsk with Marina?  What if he wasn’t allowed back into the United States after he decided to un-defect?  What if he never got a job at the Texas School Book Depository?  What if he had a better relationship with his mother?  What if someone had stopped him on November 22, 1963?    

Intriguing, right?  (And as Mr. King so ably proves - great material for a novel!)

Making History Stylish

I have, on occasion, been fortunate to see some pretty cool historical “stuff” during the course of my career – and the coolest stuff by far usually has to do with the Kennedys because I am, as I’ve already established, a bit of a Kennedy freak.  I’m very lucky to have friends who were kind enough to call me or give me a heads up whenever they’ve worked on interesting Kennedy records…they know I’ll usually come running over to squeal with delight.   

That’s what happened last spring when Trix called me over to check out the final existing logbook of PT-109, the motor torpedo boat that JFK commanded during World War II.  PT-109 sank after a collision with a Japanese destroyer.  The logbook is cool because, starting on April 26, 1943 each page is signed by Lieutenant, junior grade John F. Kennedy.  Even cooler – digital images of the pages are now available in the National Archives’ Archival Research Catalog so everyone can see them! 

But wait.  Its gets even cooler.  I was going to wait until August 2^nd (check out the font of all knowledge to find out why that date is significant) to share this particular artifact with you but it seems appropriate to share it tonight.  While the National Archives holds the PT-109 logbook, the Archives of Denise is the proud custodian of….

JFK PT Wear

Yeah.  I know - you’re totally jealous.   And I’m so totally stylin’. 

The White House

(The White House is not in the White Village!)

I almost forgot that it was Women’s History Month!  While my mom is hugely influential in my life, I have also been influenced by a lot of women, usually older or at least more experienced in the ways of the world.  Some are still in my life while others just passed through it for a little while.  I’ve learned a lot from these women who have been generous with their advice, wisdom, and good humor.  Since the Hallmark store was all out of Women’s History Month cards, I’m dedicating this post to all those influential women, especially one who lived in the White House. 

One day when I was a sophomore in high school, I bee-bopped into the cafeteria for my free period and my friend introduced me to a new girl, B., who was in her homeroom (they were both Ws) and who shared our same free period.  I made some sort of greeting and she said, “We’re in Geometry together.”  My powers of observation weren’t very strong back then!  We sat down, I dug out a Hershey bar that I’m pretty sure I didn’t share, and the rest, as they say is, history.  A friendship began at that table that day.  The other girl?  She's somewhere on Facebook. 

I don’t know how or why I ended up at her house on a random Friday or Saturday night.  I think I had just gotten my license and my friend, the Villager, and I were driving around the Village and we decided to see if B. was around.  This was back when teenagers didn’t have cell phones because they were just things your parents had for emergencies.  Or they just had a car phone that you couldn’t figure out how to use.  So, anyway, Villager and I knocked and B.’s mom opened her door and her home to us.  B. wasn’t home, she was at a basketball game or something but her mom invited us to stay.  So we did and we ended up talking to her for what seemed like hours.  Throughout our high-school years, this was a common occurrence…I’d go pick up B. or we’d come back from a movie or something, we’d hang out, and we’d spend time talking to her mom (and her dad too!) about all sorts of things. 

She has a first name of course, but to me she was, and always will be, just Mrs. White.  She is the matriarch of a loud, feisty Irish family.  There was B., my first White friend; B.’s older sister C., whom I unfairly labeled a bully just ‘cause she looked tough; their younger sister R., whom I spotted in the cafeteria one day and just knew she was B.’s sister because they DO look alike; and their older brother G (or J…I don’t know how to spell his name!), whom I’ve only met twice in all these years but who is responsible for me seeing honest-to-goodness, on campus College Life, including beer pong, a Frat party, and the classic question to one of his buddies, “You didn’t fornicate on her [my] sleeping bag, did you?!”  (NOTE – I was NOT in the sleeping bag at the time!  And I had to look up the word fornicate when I got home); and there was Mr. White, who was a UPS man…which this daughter of a mailman managed to get past!  They were just really good people who would give you their shirts off their back and more if they had it. 

Mrs. White is the epitome of kindness.  Her kindnesses towards me included little things and big ones too.  I used to be terrified of driving on highways.  One night I had to drive to a movie theater that would’ve required taking a road that I perceived to be a highway (now I laugh when I remember that I used to be afraid of Route 309!)  I was really nervous and scared.  Mrs. White told me which back-roads to take so I didn’t have to get near the “highway.”  It was a small gesture but one that I appreciated…she didn’t make me feel bad because I was scared and she, like my own mom, didn’t force me to do something that I wasn’t quite ready to do (okay, so I wouldn’t be ready for another 10 years but hey, getting on the highway takes time!)  I guess it’s a mom thing.  When she wasn’t giving me directions, she was giving me Kennedy stuff.  She knew I loved the Kennedys and she gave me things that she had from her younger days that was Kennedy-related.  (White kids, I promise you, I didn’t steal your inheritance!)

Mrs. White is also a woman of tremendous strength, grace, and faith.  I was and I am still amazed at her strength and grace during her ongoing battles with cancer and other health issues.  She was/is a devout Catholic whose faith, I believe, has sustained her through some pretty tough times.  I always saw her as a rock…strong, steady, and supportive of anyone who happened into her life, even on a random Friday night.

I have fleeting contact with B. these days and I haven’t seen Mrs. White in years.  But I think of her often and I still send her and Mr. White a Christmas card every year.  Hopefully, I’ll get a chance to see Mrs. White again but if I don’t, I just want to thank her for all she did, all she was, and all she is.  (And thanks for all that Kennedy loot too!) 

The Best Plans Aren't Really Planned

At work lately, the bosses are emphasizing “planning.”  Teams are planning, projects are planning, people are planning.  There’s a new fancy form to fill out to make a plan, several spreadsheets to keep track of all those plans, and backup plans just in case the original plans get changed/scrapped/eaten by a mouse.  I work with some of the most phenomenal planners on the planet.  Deputy Pepper can draft a plan and color-code a spreadsheet like nobody’s business.  Richmond’s project plan includes benchmarks, goals, and milkshake rewards (ahem…).  We've got some pretty great planners.  And then there’s me.  My plans generally consist of a legal pad, brightly colored Post-Its, and a 3 Musketeers bar.    

I definitely understand the importance of “planning,” especially in cases of weddings, surprise parties, humanitarian aid missions, or sending a guy into space.  I even get the importance of “planning” at work, where they’re (dutifully) concerned about Continuity of Operations Plans and knowing what to do on a project if, God forbid, one of us comes down with the plague or eats bad quiche and kicks the bucket.  But 9 times out of 10, the plans change and then you gotta do more “planning” and that keeps you from doing what you really want to be doing, like working or going out to lunch.  Okay, you know me too well, I never let “planning” keep me from lunch.

I don’t actually “plan.”  I give myself assignments, I set goals, I dream, and I have visions (not hallucinogenic visions, of course!)  And, um, okay, there might be an Oprah-inspired Vision Board somewhere in my house.  I generally know where I want to end up but I don’t always know the steps that I’m going to take to get there.  Sometimes, I end up taking a few wrong turns but, like my GPS-friend Mandy, I’m really good at recalculating (and I’m usually a lot more pleasant about it than she is!)  Maybe it takes me longer without a plan, but I eventually get to where I’m going or where I want to be. 



Me and bridges.  Go figure.

Some of the best moments of my life happened precisely because I didn’t have a plan…or because the original plan didn’t go as planned.  Last fall I went to London…and sure, that took some planning. I even planned to go to Paris but, thank God, that didn’t go as planned!  Before the trip, Deputy Pepper (a veteran of London sightseeing) and I sat in my cubicle poring over his London guidebook and I planned out all the places that I wanted to see.  And I managed to see most of them.  The last day that I was there, I made an unplanned second trip to the Tower of London (gift shop).  I had to make a return trip because I had broken the collectible mugs (definitely unplanned!) that I had purchased the first time I was there.  After that was accomplished, I crossed Tower Bridge and then I walked along the Thames where I hadn’t planned on accosting a random guy to take my picture, but I did and it’s now one of my favorite pictures of me in front of a bridge that there is. 

While walking through London on that crisp October Sunday, I started hearing church bells ringing and I decided to find where all that racket was coming from.  Easy enough, right?  Not when you’re hearing impaired and unable to distinguish what directions sounds come from!  (On any given day, I can’t tell if Deputy Pepper is talking to me from behind, in front, or above!)  I never found out exactly where those bells were ringing but I found a sign that pointed towards St. Paul’s Cathedral, one of those places that I planned to see but forgot to get to in all the planned-ness of my trip.  I eventually ended up there and it was beautiful and I’m glad that I broke those mugs because if I hadn’t I wouldn’t have had that amazing unplanned Sunday morning in London.      

When I was sixteen, my mom, my aunt, and I visited the John F. Kennedy Presidential Library and Museum (the Kennedys are one of the great passions of my life).   And after spending a day ohhhing and ahhhing at everything Kennedy, we stopped at the gift shop (can you tell, they’re another one of the great passions of my life) and we chatted with the Gift Store Ladies and I told them that I wanted to work there one day.  It became one of those dreams that you have but aren’t really sure how, or if, it’s ever going to become real.  I didn’t have a plan but as one step led to another in this dance that is my life, I somehow did what I had to do to make that dream come true.  10 years after visiting the John F. Kennedy Presidential Library and Museum, I became an intern in their Archives Unit.  It wasn’t the gift store…but it was close enough.


Me at 16. Girl with a dream.
(I don't know what's scarier,
that vest or the fact that I still
have that bag from the gift shop!)



It's far away but it's me at 26.
Dream/goal/vision/whatever:
achieved.

Today, I’m going to do what I almost always do.  No plans.  Just see where I end up.