Family Tradition

I was sitting at the kitchen table, a plate of pickles sat before me with creme cheese and Alvin and the Chipmunks were singing in the background.  Only this time, I wasn't the child.  I was the mom.  Weird. 

Ask anyone, my mom was awesome at making pickle wraps. Yum, yum, yum.  She used to make them before our big family Thanksgivings and Christmases at the Scottish Rite.  I loved "helping" her as a kid.  I would eat the peices of meat she let me have basically. 

So today, Megan climbs up in the chair next to me.  She took over my job.  I had to be the responsible one, not just the cute little meat eating kid.  What. The. Heck.  She was sweet though.  She had no idea that I was sitting there smiling at her and thinking about my mom and I doing the very same thing 15+ years ago. 

I will never forget the memories I share with my mom.  We would do all this stuff, pickle wraps, molasses cookies, set up, etc. for these family holidays.  And then I got to thinking about my Grandma Franks.

Megan points to the pictures on top of the doll cabinet. "Mommy's a baby!"
"Who else is up there Meg?"
"Megan!.... Sissy!"
"Who else Meg?"
"I don't know"
"Well Meggie, that's Aunt Candy, and Uncle Fred, and that's Grandpa Franks.  And see them?  That's Grandma and Grandpa Franks!"
"OH!"
"Did you know today was Grandma Franks' birthday?"
"yeah."
"Oh you did?  How old would she be?"
"Uh.... giggle I don't know."
"She would've been 103!"
"Oh!"

That's right my grandma would've been 103 if she were still alive.  It's so strange to think about her being that old.  So much time has passed. My children will never know these people that I grew up knowing. 

I started thinking of the time Mom and I were sitting in the backseat of the Jeep at Unlce Joe's house on Mother's Day one year.  It was whenever those little birthstone necklaces with the little kids on them were popular.  I had the smallest hands so I was back there stringing them on for Grandma's mother's day present.  I think I remember being annoyed because I was busy playing.

But, you know what?  I realized my kids have some pretty special things going for them.  I get to wrap Megan up in a blanket Grandma Franks crocheted for me.  Megan has this blanket that her great, great, great grandmother made.  She'll never meet her but a lot of kids don't even have these things that have been saved over the years. 

Of course I can tell her and Bay stories about my family.  Like the time Pop and I were over at Uncle Joe's (I don't care if he doesn't go by that anymore, for years I edured Onery Anne, he can deal with Joe)  But, I love him.  I really do.  Mom had such a good family.  Anyway Pop and I were over there with Grandma Franks and we made lunch, some soup.  We could not find a serving spoon to save our life.  Well, we could it was just one with holes in it.  And we made soup.  And the Annie-Tom kitchen mishaps began that day!  We all got a good laugh later.

And then there are the stories I heard Pop tell.  Now, he wasn't very detailed, but I knew that after him and Mom got married, Grandma wasn't his biggest fan.  And wasn't for a very long time.  But somewhere along the line things were smoothed out.  I don't know really, things like that were kept from me.  It's okay.  What I do know is I couldn't tell there was ever a disagreement between the two.  I remember when Grandma had her stroke on 12-20-1998 Pop and I visited her in the hospital everyday up until the day she passed away.  She would try to speak to him but she wasn't able to be understood.  I can still remember my dad telling her he knew how frustrating it was because she knew she was speaking clearly.  He had a stroke in 1980 so knew exactly was she was going through.  But there was compassion.  I saw that he cared deeply about her regardless of anything that had happened over the years.  I want to be able to do that.  I know people critize my dad, but he was a wonderful man, he really was.

Man, let me tell you.  My Grandma, she was pretty cool.  Pop used to tell me stories about her spitting off the porch back in Arkansas.  And her and I got to share socks!  When I was a kid I got a whole package because they were too big for her I think.  I'd sit between her and Mom or Aunt Betty during Sunday evenening church and color.  I've even got a picture of her and Grandpa Franks in my wallet.  Becuase of all these stories and little things in our house my kids will know who their great great great grandma was and I'm glad. 

Megan will go to sleep and I'll cover her up with that old blanket and just smile.  She's got a hertiage.  It may not be exotic or fancy like her dad's but it's a hertiage, with lots of love, and really good looking women.  No but seriously, my cousins, all gorgeous.

Anywho... happy birthday Grandma Franks, and Merry Christmas to everyone else!

I Want to Hold Your Hand



Pop, Megan and I on her first Easter in 2009.

What a week.... some far too personal to post here. (Which says a lot since I'm fairly upfront about everything, too upfront)  But what I can post about that happened this week... My Dad's 83rd birthday.  Only, he wasn't here to celebrate it.  I won't lie, it was a difficult day.  I could hardly focus on my finals and was actually thankful for the crazy week because it kept me distracted.  But in all of that I forgot what birthdays are for.  They're for honoring the one born, and I believe that goes for after they've passed on as well.  So here goes:

My Dad was the best that anyone could ever ask for.  Care to know how many times he let me down? Twice.  The second was when he was in the hospital this last time.  He said he'd call our tax man for me when he got home.  Now, Pop never promised anything, he only said he'd do it.  That was worth more than a thousand promises.  But, we all know why he didn't call the taxman.  I think I knew he wouldn't be calling him, but I asked anyway because Pop always did what he said he'd do, maybe that'd give him what he needed to get out of that hospital.  It didn't work, but dang I tried.

But the first time he ever let me down...

He had just had some skin cancer removed from his hand the day or two before and still had the stitches from it.  I was probably about 4 or 5 and I was a goof.  Where the stitches were looked like a closed eye so I called it his sleepy eye.  Here we were a couple days later and he said we could walk up to the park and on our way out the door he shut the door on that hand and busted the stitches.  He had to go right to the doctor and we didn't make it to the park.  Obviously I totally understood, but I think he took it harder than I did.  It was probably the first time in his life he didn't follow through.  See, I quickly understood and just went on with life.  But for the rest of his life he'd always say, "That was the only time I didn't do what I said I'd do."  Whenever he said that I knew he would follow through with whatever he'd told me.  He used that story to prove himself and encourage me.  It's true, that was the only time he didn't do what he'd told me he would.

I remember sitting next to him in the ICU and holding that hand.  See I'm a freak and remember people's hand anyway, but especially his.  I saw the scar from his sleepy eye and was reminded of how faithful he was.  No one else has been so faithful to me.  He was a wonderful man and I'm so glad I get to say that he raised me.