Pool Parties as Night Falls – Sunset Observer #34…by Whitney Farmer – Un Pop Culture | @MDWorld

July 16, 2014 Whitney Farmer 4 Comments

@farmer_whitney (Twitter/FLICKR) or farmerwhitney (Instagram) and Facebook

I went to New York to celebrate my birthday. All of my sisters joined me there.

We came together like this a decade ago, for another birthday of mine. That was the one when we went to Coney Island on summer solstice. On that day while my sisters were lined up next to me on the blanket like enchiladas getting crispy in the sun, I had prayed for God to either fix my life or take it away. Instead He told me to pray for someone else for a change instead of myself. Later, while riding the Cyclone rollercoaster, God said that I wasn’t getting off the ride, and that it would make me scream with either terror or joy. My choice.

This most recent birthday celebration was at SoHo House. The steaks were as perfect as the environment. I looked out the window at sunset at the 9-11 Memorial and then looked at the beautiful faces who loved me at the table. When dinner was done, we decided to catch a band that was starting on the roof. After a quick stop in the photo booth for a picture before our hair would get messed up on the dance floor, we caught the elevator to the rooftop “Pool” level where photography was not allowed. The door opened and we stepped into disappointment.

Everyone seemed powerful and serious, and there was nowhere to sit. The band was experimental techno and not intrusive enough to interfere with any deals that were being vetted, even fleshy ones that could have been closed with a slow dance. But no one was dancing. So we decided to sit on the edge of the pool and put our feet in, sore from high heels that matched our party dresses, before catching a cab back to Brooklyn.

One minute. Three minutes.

It wasn’t long before Holley jumped into the pool. It was moments later that she pulled me in. Soon after, Jamie dropped trou down to tighty whiteys and did a cannonball somehow without splashing the elite of the city who lounged around the choppy water. Then we gently pulled in dear Cydney without damaging her beautiful leg that she almost lost a few years ago. And then our pool party began, with Asheley our big sister as our lifeguard, just like when we were kids.

We played Marco Polo and waterpolo, emptying a water bottle and putting the lid back on so that it could float after we passed and made goal attempts. We did stunts and raced, complete with flip turns. I did the butterfly two lengths, despite being entangled in my cocktail dress. Miraculously, my contacts didn’t get washed away. We did celebrity impressions that made each other laugh. We scared ourselves talking about sharks and wondered if Great Whites would rain down into that same pool in the next “Sharknado!” movie, while we looked up at jets and helicopters and stars in the busy sky that hung over Gotham.

After almost two hours, we had been joined by two shy thin hipsters. A few others dangled their feet in the water which had been unmolested before we showed up. I know that more wanted to take the plunge. But sometimes setting a captive free takes more than just opening the prison door.

The pool party ended around midnight. Tired and cold, I remembered earlier in the night when I had been wondering if my new eyeliner would smear and I wouldn’t look elegant at dinner. The value of that fear fell into the proper balance as we, sopping wet and utterly happy, climbed into the cab. I left it behind us in the rearview mirror.

Sometime during the night, the mother of a friend of mine died. A few days later, another mother of another friend passed. Another few days later, someone in our circle lost a two year old child.

Unless something happens that I don’t know about, one day that will be me. It will be everyone I love. It will be everyone I know. It will be everyone I have never met. It is the one appointment that I will not re-schedule and for which I will not be late. What happens afterwards is the point of disagreement between me and many. I believe in heaven and hell. But the happenings afterwards don’t protect me now from missing those who have gone, even if I have assurance that I will see them again. And it is no excuse for not acknowledging that my life is a treasure that only has value if it is given for others. If I only live for myself, my currency is devalued in every exchange. I gain value by losing and keep by letting go.

If I lose, I will gain. What I surrender to the earth I will be given back as a harvest. If I take a plunge into the deep end, I will not drown. I will become weightless and rest on my back, watching the night sky as it watches me back. Becoming captive prepares for a breakthrough.

Rather than let night fall on us, let us fall upon it instead.

BREAKING NEWS: I leave for Europe July 25th  until August 7th.  Our team will come alongside the Spanish and French Gypsy communities in their efforts to bring education to the children. That much I know. The rest we will find out as we go. Even if you still aren’t sure if there is a God, have a conversation on our behalf anyway. Okay?

Photo of me doing my impression of Memnet in Cecil B. DeMille’s The Ten Commandments, who is thrown out of the window after telling Nefretiri, “He was born the son of Hebrew slaves…”, courtesy of my sister Asheley’s cell phone. She took the picture in violation of the rules at SoHo House. Pool towel/Egyptian servant headdress unauthorized but courtesy of @SoHoHouseNYC. #MyBirthday #FarmerFamily #SoHoHouseNYC