Hot Child in the City

After spending two summers in Connecticut, my daughter tried a new riding camp in Vermont this year. The cross-country course was better. The food was worse. The cabins were better. The activities were worse. The other girls?

"BESTEST EVER!!!!!! BFFS 4EVER 4LIFE!!!!!! OMG!!!! THEY ARE MY BESTIES!!!!!"

But, all good things come to an end, and a three-week eventing program is no exception. Parents arrived Saturday, watched their daughters compete in a three-phase show, stayed overnight nearby while the girls had an awards banquet, and before you could say "I'm gonna miss you so-o-o-o-o-o-o-o much," it was all over. Back to their separate lives in their separate states.

But, not to worry. This is 2011 after all. The girls became instantaneous Facebook friends. And after much texting, "poking," instant messaging and picture-posting, it was unanimously decided that a camp reunion was in order.

Several of my daughter's aforementioned "besties" live in the greater New York City area (New Jersey and Westchester county), so, the big apple would be the ideal place to meet. Although we're up in Massachusetts, I'm always game for a trip to my hometown. Grandma's bed and breakfast was available, so we set the date and a whirlwind of planning commenced.

Anyone who knows me will assure you that I am the queen of theme. So, I took it upon myself to come up with some ideas for this shindig.

"What if you all meet at the Central Park carousel?" I asked.

Blank stare. I kept going. "Horses? Y'know, horses? You guys all love horses?"

"Oh-h-h, that's a go-oo-od idea. Yeah. Uh-huh. I'll think about it." my daughter answered. From experience, I recognized this as "Lamest idea ever, Mom. I don't think so."

"Too bad the "Horse" exhibit isn't at the Museum of Natural History anymore," I continued.

"No offense, Mom ..." she began.

Time out. When my daughter says "No offense, Mom ..." I steel myself for something offensive. It reminds me of the line "With all due respect ..." as used in The Sopranos. Whenever one of the underlings started a statement, "With all due respect ..." you always knew they were about to disrespect Tony. And, Tony didn't react well to disrespect if you remember. Blood, guts, gore ... not well at all. Suffice it to say that my daughter is just lucky I'm a copywriter and not a mafia boss.

"No offense, Mom. But I don't think they're gonna want to hang in a museum."

I realized she was probably right, and promised to keep thinking. Meanwhile, one of her friends (who is clearly a better party planner than I am!), came up with an inspired and exacting itinerary. It went something like this:

12:30 Arrive Times Square, Meet at Forever 21

12:30 - 1:15 Shop at Forever 21

1:15 Walk to Abercrombie

1:30 - 2:15 Shop at Abercrombie

2:15 Frozen Yogurt Break

2:30 Walk to American Eagle Outfitters

2:45 - 3:30 Shop at American Eagle Outfitters

3:30 Walk to Italian Restaurant on 46th Street

4:00 Early Dinner Reservation

6:00 (Tearful) Good-bye

The girls were thrilled. Me? Not so much.

"Okay," I said. "So you and your friends are going to rendezvous in the greatest city in the world and you're going to spend your time in ... mall stores?"

She grinned and nodded enthusiastically.

Best advice I ever heard back when she was going through the terrible twos? "Choose your battles." This field trip of tween consumerism was not a battle I chose to choose. "Fine," I said.

At the appointed hour, we arrived at that historic New York landmark, Forever 21. There was much screaming and hugging and flinging one's tweenage self into each other's arms as the girls reunited. The moms introduced ourselves and wondered aloud at our daughters' enthusiasm and their determination to make this all happen.

The afternoon was a huge success. BESTEST DAY EVER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Not only did each participant acquire new tee shirts and socks and jewelry and makeovers (Sephora happens to be right next to Forever 21 - OMG! Can you believe it?), but they had photos taken with a real ... wait for it, wait for it ... Abercrombie model!

"He should pull his pants up," I responded when my daughter proudly displayed her picture that evening at my mother's.

"Good one Mom," she chuckled. "Hellooo? He's an Ab-er-crom-bie model." She put the picture in her pocket and headed into the kitchen to hunt for snacks.

Famed New York Times reporter Meyer Berger once said, "Each man reads his own meaning into New York." Clearly, each mother-daughter team does too. For me, New York will always mean Broadway theatre and magnificent museums and incredible people-watching and long walks in Central Park. I've shared so many of these things with my daughter already. But, as she grows up, she'll find her own reasons to love the city so nice, they named it twice.

Spending the BESTEST DAY EVER with a crew of beloved friends isn't a bad place to start.

Kissing an Icon Good-Bye

It's one of the most famous photographs of all time. V-Jay Day in Times Square by Alfred Eisenstaedt appeared in Life magazine a week after Japan surrendered in 1945. The black and white picture shows a young sailor passionately — and spontaneously — kissing a nurse. The contrast between the dark and light of their uniforms, as well as the way their bodies curve together and around each other has led some skeptics over the years to ask whether the scene was staged. In the decades since the war ended, multiple men and women have come forward claiming to be the subjects.

Today, in Sarasota, there's a 25-foot sculpture of the kiss by John Seward Johnson II, aptly titled Unconditional Surrender.

When my in-laws picked us up at the airport on our recent visit, they made it a point to drive by this impressive piece of public art on the way to Long Boat Key. Of course, my husband and I recognized it immediately. But, my daughter was confused.

"It's awk-ward," she said at first, singsonging the word's two syllables. For those of you who don't have a tween, the word "awkward" doesn't always mean clumsy or difficult to deal with. These days, it means exposed. Like someone who arrives at middle school and doesn't realize that their underwear is showing. Or someone who posts how they feel about a crush and then the crush in question happens to see the post. Awk-ward!

Of course, there were four full-grown adults in the car, eager to explain the statue and what it meant. My in-laws were just kids during World War II, but certainly aware of what was happening overseas. They remember V-J Day firsthand, as I'm sure my own mother does. And, in all fairness, there are likely more retirees in Sarasota County than tweens.

"It was an amazing day because the war with Japan was finally over."

"During World War II, practically everyone had a brother or son or husband fighting overseas."

"People were celebrating in the streets all over the country."

But, my daughter wasn't buying it, and our conversation moved on to details about our flights and the latest family gossip. A few days passed.

The next time we drove by the statue, we were on our way back from a field trip to the Ringling Museum. There were tourists taking pictures at the base of the statue, some hamming it up for the camera by adopting the iconic pose. We drove on.

The last time we passed by was on our way back to the airport. This time, my daughter made a declaration, "I don't like it." I asked her why, and she explained that the sailor had no right to kiss the woman. He didn't know her. You can't just attack strangers in Times Square. She's obviously not embracing him back. Duh.

"And, look at his left hand. He's making a fist."

I took a closer look at the image. My daughter was right. The sailor is holding the woman with one hand around her waist and the other under her neck with her head resting in the crook of his elbow. His hand is clenched into a fist.

And, what of the so-called surrender? The nurse's right leg is raised in what a young Anne Hathaway called a "pop" in Princess Diaries. Hathaway's awkward (as in, clumsy) Mia was hoping that her foot would pop when she shared her first kiss. But the figure in the sculpture, as well as the mystery woman in the photograph, may just be caught off balance.

I know the original photograph, and a similar image of the same unidentified models captured by U.S. Navy photo journalist Victor Jorgensen which ran the next day in the New York Times, is near and dear to so many people's hearts. In fact, I believe that the majority of the retired sailors and nurses who have claimed to be the people in the picture actually believe they are. The day and image are burned into the collective memory of the greatest generation and its baby boomer descendants.

But, my daughter brings up a good point. At age thirteen, she's living in a world where only some people in our country are at war. She doesn't have a relative or friend serving overseas, and she cannot relate to the mass jubilation her grandparents lived through 66 years ago.

And, she has been taught that she owns her body and that no one is allowed to touch it without her permission.

Whether they've just won a war or not.