Miss Independent

My family isn't really big on mementos, storytelling or sentimentality.  Granny, my mom's mom, was the family's matriarch and she didn't tolerate silliness or play or tears or complaining. She lived the motto "Just do it" before anyone knew what Nike was. I know very little about her relationship with my grandfather and for some reason, he popped into my head this morning. My grandfather passed away long before I was born and here was only ever one picture of him in my Granny's house. I don't know why but I swear whenever I asked about him, I was told 1 story, and one story only. So when I say "he popped into my head," I mean this story popped into my head.

At some point, in their later years, there was a night when my grandfather did not return home to the St. Louis city apartment he and Granny shared. At this point in the story, everyone adds in their speculation that he'd be stepping out or that he'd had too much to drink at the local tavern or been out gambling. Either way, he didn't come home. Sometime in the morning, I know its morning because I'm told the sun was up, he's walked up the sidewalk to their old school brick 4 unit apartment building. This is important to know because Granny was waiting for him at the window in the stairwell on the landing between the first and second story which looked out over the walk-way.  As he waled up towards the front door, Granny asks him where he's been, he responds with something that no one has ever found worth remembering or repeating and as he reached for the handle of the front door, Granny reaches down to the floor in front of her and grabs her soup pot, full of the hottest water should could get, maybe even boiling, but no one confirms or denies that, and she then dumps the entire container right onto his head. To my knowledge, the never spoke again because there are no other stories. Not even of his passing or funeral. 

And that is a snapshot of the most influential woman of my childhood. The seething anger, the righteous retaliation, its in my genes (I honestly typed "jeans" first, WTF!?). Thankfully I've learned to identify and manage the anger over the years and am less of the walking rage-ball I used to be but it's a miracle I have any friends or managed to meet a man who felt dangerous enough to marry me. Just from being my life, they're all just one mis-step away from me getting out the soup pot.

Nothing says holiday like Walgreen's

Growing up, I lived in a house owned by my mother's, sister's husband, AKA my uncle. I don't know when it started but as long as I can remember, I've always called my uncle, Uncle. Others called him Uncle Carey or Uncle Cootie but to me he was and still is, just Uncle. It was a great house. A rambling ranch, with a basement. Plenty of room for adults to sit and talk and for kids to tear around like maniacs.  For many years, holiday dinners were hosted at our house and various family members would pile in to take on the ridiculously massive meal my Granny created.  No matter how much planning there had been or how many trips were made to the grocery or butcher no holiday meal was complete without a trip to Walgreen's on the day of. Wax paper, milk, eggs, cheese, plastic wrap, condensed milk, flour, and countless other basic items seemed to always disappear, right when we needed them. Often I'd be thrilled for the chance to ride along because it was a break from the hours of sous chef work I'd put in chopping onions, celery, carrots, and more onions. The best was when was able to drive by myself or take along my younger brother to make the traditional Walgreen's run.


This year, my younger brother came to visit me and the Hubs for Christmas at our house.  The menu was legit: Spiral sliced ham, beef rib roast, mashed sweet potatoes, wild rice pilaf, homemade parker house rolls, creamed spinach an apple chutney and a chocolate-almond torte for desert. We planned the menu a week in advance, we made a list and checked it twice, we shopped a week early and on Christmas day, we totally ran out of almonds. I didn't even have to think about it, I knew the traditional trip to Walgreen's would continue. 

I feel proud because I created this moment

Unless it was a high holy day, my family did not sit at the dining room table to share meals.  Growing up in a single parent household, dinner often was a free for all, popcorn and toasted cheese (that's right toasted, not grilled) being staple staples. My mom also preferred to use paper products daily instead of dirtying any dishes if possible. Great in the long run as my brother and I were "the dishwashers" but still not the traditional family meal time experience.

That is why I still have a sense of wonderment when the hubs and I sit down to a meal together. To put forth the effort for just the two of us feels extra special.  The food wasn't fancy, quiche and a salad (and even paper napkins) but the moment was worth capturing.

"This house is clean."

The creepiest thing I've ever done is willingly compared my hew house to a scene from Poltergeist. The thing is I can't help myself because as of this week my house has been blessed.  My Father-in-Law happens to be a man of the cloth, so when you've got that guy around for a week, might as well get some good mojo going. 

As he said this week, there was nothing mystical about the blessing but as with any building in any place, it has a past.  People and events occurred of which we are not aware. In the blessing of the house, we hope for a fresh start.  Creating space where our friends and family can gather and have fun and share love and create lots of good times and great memories. 

I like that idea.  The ability to take something old and make it new.

Dot

This is a photo of me and my Aunt Dorothy (AKA Dot).  She was my mom's only sibling. My family has never been on for keepstakes or mementos.  Very few items are preserved as "precious".  Until recently this and other photos of me as a little girl were packed away in a bag that was in a box in someone else's stuff.  Who knows why they got these picture out or why they finally decided to give them to someone in the family who would cherish them but I'm thankful for the change of heart.