Happy Halloween

In other cultures and in various world religions, what we Americans call “Halloween” is celebrated as a remembrance of departed loved ones. For example, the Japanese celebrate the autumn equinox as a time to remember and honor their ancestors. The Mexican Day of the Dead is a party to eclipse all parties (from what I can tell, anyway — I didn’t take Spanish, so I’m not well-versed in the culture). Samhain, the Wiccan observance, focuses on the thin veil between this world and the next. This is, of course, a gross overview of these holidays, and there are many more besides these.

In recent years, I’ve taken to celebrating Halloween in a unique way that’s meaningful to me. I consider myself an agnostic, so observing Samhain or any other faith-based or religious rituals would be hypocritical and almost rude. I also have no social life, and very few local friends, so costume parties are out. 🙂

Seriously, though. What I do is genealogy.
Continue reading

My Step-Philip’s Graduation Weekend

On Friday evening before he went to work, Aaron asked me if I’d heard anything from my Mom or step-Gary about Philip’s high school graduation. When did we need to be where, did we have tickets to the actual graduation, et cetera. I didn’t know yet, as Mom hadn’t called me to confirm the final plans, and I told him so. His parting shot was, “If I come home tonight and find out I have to get up at 10am,” followed by some sort of consequence I can’t exactly recall. Something like, “I’ll be pissed,” or “I won’t be happy,” or something along those lines.

Guess when we had to get up Saturday morning.
Continue reading

My Memaw

Me and my Memaw

My Memaw knew a lot. She wasn’t particularly book-smart—I think she completed 8th grade—but she knew little, important things. How to keep my ballet recital costume from unravelling. How to french braid and how to do a french twist. How to make awesome fried chicken, and tuna croquettes, and dozens of other wonderful foods. How to grow an avocado plant from a pit. How to grow plants in general.

About plants: Memaw definitely had a green thumb. Not in that Jerry Baker sort of way, though; he knows all sorts of bizarre tips and tricks for keeping your plants and lawn green and healthy, like spraying it with a solution of dish soap and beer and ammonia and some other household chemicals. Memaw had the other kind of green thumb, the kind where she had only to stick a plant in soil (or in water first, to root it), then water it (from the bottom, always), and poof. Big, healthy plants. Or so I remember, anyway… I was still kind of young when Memaw’s plant collection was in its heyday.

(Funny, isn’t it, how we never seem to take pictures of everyday things, like our living room… but, years later, we find ourselves trying to remember details that we once thought we’d never forget. Like how many plants sat in our windowsill in Apartment A-13 when I was 7 years old.)

Anyway, I wish I’d been able to ask her about more of the little, important things. As I got older, and as she got older, I did write her letters and ask her about some of the little things. How to make tuna croquettes (which I still haven’t attempted). How many different jobs she held, and where she worked (which I wish I’d written down, but I was in the car on the way to BG). And my Mom gave me the recipe for meatballs that Memaw had gotten from the Italian girl that worked with her at Bix’s Restaurant.

How to grow plants, though… if she had a secret, I wish I could have learned it. I do well enough, and I certainly *have* enough, but sometimes I wonder. I think I managed to inherit some of that green thumb, but… you know.

Sometimes I miss her.

—–

Next Friday, I’ll be participating in the American Cancer Society Relay For Life in Bowling Green. If you’d care to sponsor me, you can donate online all next week, until the event. Donations are, of course, tax-deductible, and will forward the fight against cancer.

Someday, I hope someone else gets more time to ask their own Memaw the questions I didn’t.

Happy Birthday, Tom (1948-1995)

My mom got married for the first time when I was 12 years old. Tom, my stepdad, was the only real father figure I’d ever had, and I continued to spend time with him after he and Mom separated after just two years. Tom and I had a good relationship through my high school years, barring some weirdness here and there. He was an audiophile and an early adopter of technology—he had a CD player in 1987, and both a VHS and Betamax VCR, and jury-rigged surround-sound stereo. He had a distinctive sense of humor and an infectious, deep laugh.

The semester I was off of school, in Fall 1995, I don’t recall getting to see him much. I spent most of my time either depressed at home or hanging out with my friend Mel. That October, Tom died.

Tonight, I spent some time going through my journal, hoping that (for once) I would have written something relevant. As it turns out, I did:
Continue reading