Saturday, July 23, 2011

Great Grammying

I remember when I first became a great aunt, about eighteen years ago. I was waiting in carpool lane for one of multiple pickups of the afternoon when I glanced at myself in the side mirror and thought,”I don’t look like my great aunts…they had blue hair!” Thank goodness for that one.

That great niece graduated from high school this year with some nice honors, and is going to Florida State University on a cheerleading scholarship. My sister, her grandmother, is really proud of her…as are we all.

Last night I enjoyed hearing William’s original song that he and his band mates created for “Rock and Romp” camp. Seeing five to ten year olds rocking on was quite an experience…one I never had the pleasure of as the mother of girls who were more into musical theater, ballet and opera.  Not sure how my grandmother and mother would have suvived the noisy rock scene, but I did with most of hearing intact.

This morning, I saw Becket in the title role of “Charlotte’Web”, and it took me back to those theater days…only this time I didn’t have to feel responsible for hauling her to rehearsals but one time, and didn’t have to run all those lines. All I had to do was show up and enjoy and clap.

Tonight a couple of them will spend the night. We’ll eat Fajitas and they’ll swim and watch mindless videos, probably stay up past their bedtimes and eat waffles with whipped cream and strawberries in the morning.

I still don’t feel as old as my grandmother must have been by the time she had teen aged grandchildren…and I definitely don’t have blue hair, but I do have a round little tummy and an ample bosom to hold babies to, and I'm beginning to look more like my grandmother all the time. Wouldn't it be nice to be around long enough to see the next generation arrive and be able to tell them about the good old days when great grandmothers had blue hair.


Monday, July 11, 2011

I Been Searchin'

I spent the better part of last night tossing and turning, trying to turn my search for my beloved tiny digital camera over to my unconscious mind. Part of me knew exactly where the darn thing was supposed to be…in my purse after taking it to a friend’s house on July 4th. Beyond the fact that it obviously wasn’t in my purse, I hit a brick wall trying to retrace where it could be. One of my final thoughts before finally settling into a fitful sleep was that it might be back in my needlepoint bag, where it had ridden home from the lake. I had discarded that notion, because the thought of taking it to my friend’s house was so clear. Maybe it was in the cup holder of the car. Maybe it was still at her house. I almost got up and searched those places and sent Ann an e-mail to see if she’d found it.

I awoke and went straight to the needlepoint bag, and voila, nestled into the Christmas stockings and ornaments I’m working furiously on was the little camera.

It wasn’t the camera that I hated losing so much, it could be replaced, but the card held memories of a happy time with my grandchildren at the lake that would not ever be replaced. I thought about snapping pictures of Becket (10) and Owen (4) learning to canoe as we devised ways to get back and forth to the swim dock now that our pier is a shambles from wind and flood. There was a snap of happy faces of a teenaged grandson and his younger cousins and siblings all piled on the swing also missing.

Well, they’re not lost and gone forever, as my husband used to accuse me of claiming every time I couldn’t find my keys. He also says that if I always put things back where they belong, I wouldn’t be forever searching for something. His gibes have taught me to be more methodical in my ways, and I spend less time frustrated with things that are lost…they’re usually in one of two or three places rather than most anywhere.

Some things from our past really are lost and gone forever, though, and those things plague me to this day. A uniform shoe…only one…missing since the 80’s. Our wedding album and my grandfather’s childhood chair…lost in a move. Most of the valuables my husband inherited from his mother…stolen in a home invasion while we were on vacation at the Transplant Games. But I keep telling myself they were only things.

Worse is losing people you love. There are the inevitable losses to illness and old age, hopefully only a few losses due to differences, and a host of losses due to negligence in keeping up with people through the years. Working on my upcoming fiftieth high school reunion has reconnected me with many classmates that I truly enjoyed once upon a time, but in the days before the internet, if you lost someone who moved away and weren’t diligent about writing or calling, they could truly go missing from your life. I’m loving finding some of these folks again…memories truly are forever, even if you don’t have photos of them.


Wednesday, July 6, 2011

Presumed Innocent

Okay folks, it’s time to take a deep breath and realize that the jury verdict in the Anthony case was probably not the worst outcome of the trial. How much worse could it have been if they had convicted one member of that whole dysfunctional family of a crime when it became evident that any or all of them might in fact be lying about their knowledge of the circumstances?

We know the mother is a liar. She eventually recanted most of what she initially claimed. The grandmother appears to be a liar either to her employer or in her claim that she did the search for Chloroform as I don’t believe she could have possibly been in two places at once on that day. The grandfather’s statements were similarly inconsistent, and my gut feeling tells me that he’s the primary culprit.

No, I don’t like the mother either. If, in fact, she had knowledge that her child had died in whatever tragic manner, and then went on about her rather irresponsible lifestyle as if nothing had happened she is at least guilty of having no heart…or perhaps access to enough pharmaceuticals to obliterate her pain and allow her to party on. Somehow, though, the videos of mother and daughter that have run in a loop for months now, don’t show the kind of person that the prosecutor was prosecuting.

We can’t blame the jury for doing their job. The evidence was too full of inconsistencies for them to have made any other choice.

Will we ever know the details of this case for sure? Probably not. Our crime solvers are not nearly as lucky in real life as they are on formulatic cop dramas where it all fits neatly together at the end and the first, and most obvious, person suspected is never guilty.

I hope the Anthony family makes peace with their lies and deceit and mourns the loss of a precious life as I would have expected the young mother I saw teasing and laughing with her daughter to do. And they are not, by the way, obliged to share their grief with us in the process.