Memorial Day

I went for a walk this morning. It’s a beautiful day; currently the temperature is 81 degrees, but there’s a bit of a breeze and the humidity is pretty low so it feels amazing, even in the sunshine. And the sunshine is plentiful.

I passed a garage sale, some kids outside playing, a woman walking a dog. Several houses had American flags out. The smell of a charcoal grill wafted over the neighborhood. Today is one of the nicer Memorial Days (weather-wise) in recent memory.


Memorial Day flags by Selena N. B. H. via creative commons (

I thought about all of the things I’m grateful for: the apartment I set out from, my job (from which I have the day off), this new relationship, which is pretty much the greatest.* The fact that I have the ability to follow my passion, that I can write anything I want, anytime that I want. Family, friends. Freedom.

I thought about previous Memorial Days: attending the parade with my dad, marching with the band in high school. I probably didn’t pay much attention to the meaning behind it before, I was just happy to have a day off to start the summer.

I’ve known a few people in my life who have served in the military in some capacity (both grandfathers, a cousin, my boyfriend’s dad), but I’m lucky in that all of them have made it home safely.

Others are not so lucky.

But I still benefit from those sacrifices, which somehow make them more significant. It’s one thing to give up your life on behalf of a loved one; it’s much different to do it for a bunch of strangers.

Everyone who died in service did just that.

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For Gram, On Her 100th Birthday

My grandmother (my mom’s mom) was born 100 years ago today. We’re planning to honor her this weekend, which will be the 4th in my series of 15 25’s to 35 (yes, I still owe a post about the third one), but I wanted to give you a sense of what the world my grandmother was born into was like, and a few nods to the things that have come along since. Gram died 10 years ago this April, and I miss her dearly. This post is for her. -Sarah


Gram’s graduation photo, ca. 1934

Anna May Brown (later Dickerson) was born on March 25, 1916. At that time, the country was still a year away from declaring war on Germany, although much of the rest of the world was pretty entrenched in battle in WWI. Women still had the length of a presidential term to wait before they could vote in one. BMW was formed earlier that March. The company that would become Boeing was incorporated. Pancho Villa led Mexico in a fight against the United States.

Dadaism was a new art movement when my Gram was born. It was the year of the Easter Rising in Ireland. It was also the year that President Woodrow Wilson signed a bill incorporating the Boy Scouts. The Saturday Evening Post published its first issue with cover art from Norman Rockwell. The first published reference to “jazz” appeared in Variety. The National Park Service was created in 1916, and Margaret Sanger opened the first U.S. birth control center (a forerunner for Planned Parenthood), but one could still be arrested for lecturing on birth control, as was the case for Emma Goldman earlier that same year and Sanger herself a few months later. The toggle light switch was invented. Poland was established.

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Sweet 16 Plus 18

Wow, that sounds old.

It’s better when you hear I’m 34, but still. Guys, I’m 34. Today. And you know what? I couldn’t be happier.


I can’t remember the last birthday I looked forward to this much. Not only is it the third 25th (of 15), but my parents and siblings are coming for dinner, and I have a boyfriend with whom to celebrate. I feel like a teenager. (Hence the title of this post.)


But, unlike a sweet sixteen-year-old, I have the wisdom of adulthood (that’s that other 18 years). I’ve lived through the tumultuous teens and terrifying twenties, and I’m well into the thrilling thirties.

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A Smitten Dose of Sarah

I love movies. photo credit: filmheart via photopin (license)

Buckle up kids, because this is a long story but it’s a good one. It’s about relationships and the fact that, for the first time in almost 34 years, I have a Valentine on Valentine’s Day.


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Thoughts I Had While Swimming For the First Time in Years

My sister and brother-in-law gave me an air plant for Christmas, and it is delightful. They gave me three, actually, but two of them aren’t faring so well. The one I’ve named Nemo, though, reminds me of the giant squid at the end of 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea. He looks like a deep sea diver trying to escape. It’s actually quite beautiful and active.

Despite the name, air plants are very aquatic in that you have to soak them twice a week for a couple of hours each time. Maybe it’s because I’ve been watching all that floating, or maybe I’ve just been missing the pool for a long time, but I decided to get back into swimming this year. And, luckily, the Y not too far from my apartment just reopened after being remodeled. I bought a membership and went for the first time on the opening night of the pool. Here was my experience:


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The Second 25th


I celebrated the 25th of January a day late, but not a dollar short. Tuesday, January 26 I met up with my thesis-writing group, the Merms, which has continued meeting regularly even though we all graduated three years ago. There are four of us, like the four seasons or the four cardinal directions or four sides of a square table.


We usually celebrate the holidays, well, closer to the holidays, but with our busy schedules the end of January was as close to the New Year as we could get. Which was fine by me, since I wanted something to celebrate around the 25th.

We went to the Commodore, a one-time speakeasy from the ’20s that boasted patrons like F. Scott Fitzgerald, Sinclair Lewis, Ma Barker, and John Dillinger. Not those people, but patrons like them.*

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New Year, New Theme: 2016

Is it possible that January is almost over? Man, it’s been a month. I have a post about the second 25th and how I celebrated (a day late but not a dollar short) coming soon, but I realized I never posted about my theme for the year, so here it is.


These were my goals for 2013. Most of them still apply, so I kept them on my fridge and they’re starting to fade. But take an improv class I achieved, and I’m so glad I did.

You might remember that my friend Stacia and I have a theme for each year, starting back in 2007. You can read all about it here.

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The First 25th: Merry Christmas (and Happy New Year, a few weeks late)!

Well, the first of the 15 25s has passed. It was Christmas, and in my family, it was a three-day affair, so it was definitely celebrated. The pre-show involved a lot of decorating (the tree, presents, cookies, my feet):


Second Grade Sarah Turner


Mom likes to get us ornaments that commemorate special events (graduation, the year my brother carved the turkey for the first time at Thanksgiving, my time in NYC, etc.) As you can see, 2012 was a memorable year.


We compete to see who can get their star closest to the top. This year I won.



Cookies! I didn’t mean for the eyes to be so demonic…


The main event involved a lot of destroying (presents, food, my ego in Nok hockey):


This was the funniest incident over the holidays. Apparently, this was in response to something from Thanksgiving.


Nathan, sporting the Spiderman Snuggie, which was a hit at our White Elephant gift exchange.


One of my favorite gifts. So true. So nerdy.

And I rang in the new year with friends.


I don’t think this is what they had in mind, but whatever. No kisses for this girl, under the mistletoe or on New Year’s. Maybe next year? I mean, this year?

I had the whole week off (huge job perk), which I used to both be productive in cleaning and organizing and lay around on my couch binge-watching Netflix. It was a pretty good break, and I feel like the celebration of the 25th stretched well into the new year.

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15 25’s to 35

Party in the Air, photo courtesy of Kim on Flickr

In 15 months, I’ll be 35. Actually, 14 months exactly after Christmas, but who’s counting? That means counting December 25 (and my 35th birthday) there are 15 25’s (the 25th of the month) to age 35.

I’m not dreading it, necessarily, though I tend to do better in the even years so I’m a little more excited for 34, but I also feel like after a certain point, the only exciting birthdays are the decades (and often they’re not exciting so much as noteworthy). What about the half-decades? What about every month? Every day? Okay, maybe that’s taking it a little far, but what if we found something to celebrate every month, on purpose?

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NaBloPoWriMo Crow-vember: Day 30

Crow-vember has come to an end. I’m kind of sad to see it go, although it will be nice to have some extra time in the evenings that I would otherwise be devoting to writing posts. Here are the final stats:

Not a man.

I LOVE stats!

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