Tears and a Smile

My friend Jen's grandmother died a few days before I headed to Ohio in September. Jen and I not only went to high school together, but our parents also grew up in the same small Ohio town (this sounds like a John Mellancamp song), which meant even our grandparents were friends. Jen and I are linked by generations, which is a cool thing.

So anyway, it was nice that I got to see Jen in person and give her a hug while I was in Ohio, because like me, her grandparents have played a big role in her life, and she has been lucky, like me, to have her grandparents into her own adulthood. So many people don't get to have that!

When I picked up mail on Saturday, there was an envelope from Jen. In it, were two recipe cards with my grandma's name, Floriene, on them. One was typed, one was in her own handwriting. Tears popped immediately into my eyes, and then I smiled. What's that line from Steel Magnolias? Something like, "Laughter through tears is my favorite emotion." And it's so true. (And what the heck? Between a Laugh and a Tear: another John Mellancamp song! I swear I didn't plan this.) While Jen was going through her grandmother's things, she found the recipes that my grandma had given her grandma.

I still have cards and letters my grandma sent me over the years, and I have her recipe box, as well, so it's not like I couldn't get them out and look at her handwriting or hear her "voice" whenever I want to, but there was something so wholly unexpected about coming out of the post office on a fall Saturday morning and receiving something ao dear to you that someone else came across, thought of you, and then cared enough to put it in the mail in this age of electronic communication.

To me, it was the equivalent of gold, in both memory and friendship.


Me with Grandma and Grandpa Moffit circa 1993 -- almost 20 years ago! Eeek!

Remembering

Tomorrow is Sept. 11. I always have an unsettled feeling as we approach this date each year. I think that's good. It reminds me that we should never forget the tragedy that took place on this day 11 years ago.

I know I've talked before about how we were actually in Colorado on vacation when we saw the events of Sept. 11, 2001, unfold on live TV like the rest of the world. I don't know if I've ever felt entirely safe ever since. It made me scared and sad to think that humans could commit such atrocities against one another.

If I spend much time thinking or talking about it, I still feel scared and sad.

Each year the boys ask more questions about Sept. 11, especially Finn, our question-asker extraordinaire!

Each year I'm surprised at how I don't like to talk about it, and I wonder if my grandparents had the same feeling about Pearl Harbor.

My friend's brother-in-law was a fire fighter killed when the fire truck he rolled under for safety crushed him. I didn't know him, but I think of their family in these days leading up to Sept. 11 every year.

In the days, weeks, months, and even years following 9/11, I was obsessed with watching every bit of news coverage, every bit of analysis, every breakdown of every minute of that day on every channel. Ultimately, it made me so anxious and unhappy, I had to stop watching. Now I avoid those types of shows.

Instead, I'll take some time to think about the innocents who died, be grateful for what I have, and explain to the boys that there are just some things that can't be explained. Frankly, I hope it's something they never finally understand because they experienced it for themselves.

Unplugged

I just went 48 hours without accessing a computer. It was really weird.

The amazing people at Make-A-Wish called a few weeks ago and wanted to say thank you to us for the radio interviews we did for their radio-thon back in December. Although doing the radio interviews had meant pulling the kids out of school for an additional two days, we didn't mind. It was for a good cause. And believe me, the kids didn't care they were missing two more days of school. How scholarly of them.

Anyway, Make-A-Wish called and said they'd like to send us to the Ritz Carlton. . .at Bachelor Gulch for two nights. A donor, who I've actually had the opportunity to interact with while we were working out the details of our stay, wasn't able to use their timeshare and she had read about how you can donate nights to Make-A-Wish. Which is what she did. Very cool.

Hilariously, Bachelor Gulch is about 20 minutes from our house. We've been there before to ski, but have never stayed there. The kids were off school on Friday, so Thursday after school, off we went to check in at the Ritz. May I just say that the Ritz really knows how to spoil people. The skiing was terrible--it just hasn't been the greatest snow year around here--but who cares? We were too busy hanging out around the fire pit roasting marshmellows, sitting in the hot tub, watching movies, and just marveling at what it's like to be a tourist in our own town. It's pretty fun to see life here as others do when they come to visit.

As an added bonus, my sister Erin and her family came from Utah and stayed in our house while we were at the Ritz. While I did clean the toilets before they got here, their accomodations were slightly less posh than ours. Fortunately they came up and joined us for a day of skiing and marshmellow roasting.

I don't know why, but marshmellows seem to taste better at the Ritz.

Reality check: I need to catch up on 48 hours of e-mail.

Ah, Memories

I'll confess something: I don't dig babies. I know, I know. What kind of person doesn't really like babies? I adore all of my nieces and nephews, but it's a well-known fact in our family that I'm not really into them until they're about 18 months/2 years old.

Don't get me wrong, I did like my own babies. Loved them even. But I was pretty anxious to move through that "needy baby" phase and get to the fun part. People used to tell me I'd want those baby days back again. The jury is still out on that. Maybe because we had the sleeplessness of Finn's baby days followed closely by the sleeplessness of Finn's cancer days and now I'm permanently sleep deprived that make me feel this way. But I don't really miss it. And my boys were both really easy babies. . .according to my Mother.

At any rate, when Grandma died, I was digging through boxes of photos and digital photos and I came across some that just made me laugh out loud, smile broadly, or even put a little tear in the corner of my eye.

A sampling. . .

From January '03:

We went to the Worthington Mall to see Clifford the Big Red Dog who was visiting the mall through a promotion with our local PBS station (you know how I love PBS so) and Scholastic Books. We waited in a Big Long Line to see the Big Red Dog. Declan was bored so he played a little concerto (this one is titled "Pounding in D Minor") on the piano which was next to us in line. I love the expression on his face. He's 2, not quite 3, in this picture. I think he looks a little rascally--which he was. For as big a rule follower as he is now, Declan was a little pill at the ages of 2 and 3. One time he ran away from me at the rec center in Westerville so many times that when I caught him, I pinned him to the ground and whispered something in his ear that made him glue himself to my side for the rest of the day. Not one of my finer parenting moments.



Finally, we got to see Clifford. Except that Declan wouldn't really go near him. I think Clifford looks kind of sad.



Finn at about 3 1/2 months old (I always have giant babies that look 3 months old at birth so here he's probably about the size of a six-month old). Finn was THE happiest baby in the history of babykind. Ate like a maniac, slept through the night at about 10 weeks, rarely cried. And still, I am not a baby person.

From February '03:


Photos at JCPenney where they sucker you into buying extra photos because you can't stand the thought of pictures of your kids going in the trash.


And there he is, still smiling. We called it the Finn Grin.


Declan helps "rake" a rare, big snow in Ohio.


Because every baby needs safety glasses.

From March '03. And then I'll stop this little trip down memory lane. . .



Declan's 3rd Birthday. He was all about Larry Boy for awhile. I took a picture of Larry Boy in to the bakery so Declan could have a Larry Boy cake. As you can see, he's not too enthused about our rendition of Happy Birthday.


I think Larry Boy seems afraid in this picture.


This somehow seems unwise.


Birthday Bunny. I'm disturbed by the box of Frosted Flakes on the counter. Clearly this is before my organic-ness started.

Done for now. . .