#shewasmyoma

I wrote this shortly after my Oma died on April 6th of this year. I read it at her services in May. There's so much more that I wanted to say, so much more that I felt. But I don't think you can ever really capture the entire scope of someone's affect on your life, or their life in general.... right? 

 The year was 1987. I was 8, my brother Rick was 5, and we were quite possibly the only people under 30 who watched reruns of the 1950’s TV show “Dragnet”. Dad was a big Nick at Nite fan, so we were forced to watch reruns of shows like “I Love Lucy”, “I Dream of Jeanie”, & “The Dick Van Dyke” show. I’m pretty sure we complained more than once about being subjected to the horror that was black and white television. It was that year though, that Tom Hanks, and Dan Akroyd took to the big screen as Detective Pep Streebek, and Sgt. Joe Friday, in a movie version of “Dragnet”.  I can remember standing outside the theater on Silver Springs Blvd, with Rick and Oma, looking at the movie posters, and deciding we were going to see the movie remake of “Dragnet”. I remember sitting about 2/3rds of the way back in the theater, Oma sandwiched between Rick and I. The theater had just a few other movie-goers scattered about, which was surprising as it was mid-June, and one would think that it would be full of parents, grandparents, and kids, like us, desperately trying to avoid the summer heat.  

  The lights go down, and the movie begins.  We sit & watch as Dan Akroyd plays the part of our Sgt. Joe Friday.  Now, having seen the movie as an adult, I know that there were some innuendos, and vulgar remarks that flew right over my little 8 year old head, as well as Rick’s, but Oma had to have known what was coming.  Friday, and his sidekick Streebek, walk into a strip club, and front & center screen is a topless dancer, wearing star shaped covers on her breasts. Before I could even process what we were seeing, my innocent little 5 year old brother flies up out of his seat, and yells “OMA! LOOK SHE’S GOT STARS!”.  Oma never flinched; I of course, taking after my dad, was mortified. I yell at Rick to sit down, and can’t believe that it all just happened.

  Back then I was totally embarrassed. Now, it’s one of my favorite stories to tell of our times with Oma. Believe it or not, I found myself in a worse situation with her when I turned 18, and she & Aunt Susan treated me to a movie, where I picked to see “American Beauty”.  If you aren’t familiar with the movie, let me just tell you… I was embarrassed to be seen in public watching the movie, let alone watch it with my grandmother.  She of course, took it in stride.

  But that’s what was so great about Oma. Nothing really about her was ordinary or traditional. Some grandmother’s bake you cookies, and read you books, she rented convertibles and drove fast with the top down, and always made you eat something green with every meal. I can’t tell you how many leaves of romaine lettuce I gagged through eating dinner at her house, but I can tell you that lemon pepper doesn’t mask the bitterness, greek seasoning does, and Oma’s chocolate stash is always worth getting down the green stuff for. Oma loved her sweets, and she was always ready to share. Rick and I were fortunate to suffer through many of those kinds of green-laden dinners with Oma throughout the years, with both mom and dad working night shifts.

 If I had to pick a word to describe Oma, it would have to be extraordinary. She was easily the first person I ever found myself fascinated with.  She kept little gemstone crystals on her nightstand, and rubbed apricot cuticle cream on her fingers every night. She had a bottle of regular Listerine in the front seat of her car at all times, and I don’t think she knew the radio went had an FM, because it never switched from AM, and it was ALWAYS playing opera music. She taught Rick & I how to play rummy, and then spent hours playing with us on her back porch when we were kids. She took a photography class at the community college, and took a picture of Rick, Mikey, Stevie, Lisa & I jumping into a pool, It is, to this day, my most favorite picture of my childhood. The point is, she was just the kind of grandmother who never stopped surprising you as a kid, and also one that wasn’t afraid to call you on your crap.

  And her heart. I sometimes wonder if her heart didn’t give out, from the sheer amount of love she carried around in it. The love for her family, present and gone, love of music, love of chocolate, love of Seminole football, love of children, love of animals, love of charities, love of McDonald’s Frappe’s, love of nature, love of watermelon, love of angels, love of hope, love of love, love of chocolate… yes that’s chocolate twice, but if you knew Oma, you knew the love of chocolate was a BIG LOVE. Godiva, Russell Stovers, Hershey’s, it mattered not to her if it was the gourmet stuff, or the drugstore variety.

  I think that’s the most important thing Oma instilled in me. Not just in chocolate, but in people. That people are people no matter their race, gender, upbringing, or perceived handicap. She always routed for the underdog, always made it her duty to lift them up. To fight for them. To SEE them, and let them know that they were SEEN.

And I say all this because somewhere out there, she is listening, and I want her to know that she was SEEN. I saw her. I loved her. She was my Oma.

life: memorial tattoos

that life is what happens while you are making other plans?

ya. life....

it comes at you sometimes from a million different directions....

pulling you in like an undertow, while you hold your breath while trying to swim to the surface... & then sometimes, if you are unlucky enough, something pulls you back under before you ever get to the top.

last week, about oh.. an hour after i posted that last blog.. we got a phone call from my husband's mother in georgia letting us know his grandfather had passed away.

it's been a long time coming. he's been on dialysis for about 8 years. life has been hard & long for him the last decade, i imagine.

the pain for my husband & his family though, was not any less given his suffering. i suppose we are all selfish creatures.. we want the people we love around forever. i know i do. i'm just grateful (as i know his family is as well) that his suffering is over.

pit stop

it was a hard shock on the hubs. just earlier in the day his mom had told him his grandfather was his old self, taking stabs at nurses & family.. & eating a cheeseburger. the week before had been a rocky one.. with his blood pressure dipping seriously low... and a very serious infection in not one, but two ports.

hanging out in the hotel room

so we spent the last week in georgia. and honestly, even though we celebrated our 11th anniversary, driving home from the trip saturday... i feel like i never knew his grandfather. not really.

occupied

he was already suffering when i came into the family, and shortly after we were married the downward spiral began. i saw him as a quiet man, sad at the way life had turned on him, and mad at his body's inability to do what his mind still was very clearly wanting to do. he had to give up his freedom. no driving. no fishing. his diet constantly monitored.

snuggled sleeper

but what i found out this week was that he was very much a different person. (i suppose illness does that to you, so i shouldn't be surprised)

hubs first tattoo... matching tattoo's for pa's 3 sons

the hubs has told me enough stories, that i should have known he was full of life.. but i guess the things he told me ended up going out like random facts that you hear & remember, but just sort & store & never really digest.

he played the guitar, and according to several people, had a wonderful singing voice. i never heard him sing. a lifetime ago, he had his own radio show. he served in the military, and was extremely proud of the time he served our country. he was a fisherman. hearing my husband tell stories of his grandfather fishing never ceases to make me smile, and that smile spread to every face present at his funeral, when they recounted that he couldn't go fishing without managing to slip and fall in. every. single. time. the memory made everyone laugh.

pa's hook will forever go in the water first

and it made me sad. because i didn't know that person. because my sons will never know that person.

sacked out at DQ

it made me sad, because he was the only father that my husband ever knew. i may not have known him... but i have always been incredibly grateful at the fact that he raised my husband to be the man he is today. i respect him more than words are fit to convey, and this is why rance is named for him. (pa's name was clarence, but i just couldn't lay that on a baby.. so we just hijacked the last part of his name.) i am EXTREMELY proud that my son was named for him... and it dawned on us that our son is the ONLY family member named in honor of him.

florida.

and that's life... it changes on you in an instant.

xo-k

ps. i left my camera at home thinking that i just couldn't imagine why i would need it... but i tried to capture some moments i wanted to remember with the 'tubo' app on my cellphone... reminders that life does go on.. and that life is in the simple things that at the end mean everything..

and not that i needed the reminder to know what's best... but i'm going to make a concerted effort to only be on the computer while the dude is at school (he started yesterday) or while the babe is napping, or at night. so if the posting is random, that's why :)

memory keeping: taming the madness

i am SURE that i could be classified as a hoarder, but only when it comes to memorabilia..

(ok. and maybe craft stuff too, but you never know when that paper towel roll will come in handy!)

i HAD almost everything the dude had made/drawn/done. EVER.

Yikes.

BUT..

when it was time to make room for baby, i knew something had to change.

my entire filing cabinet drawer of stuff had to be downsized.

seriously downsized.

this is the downsized version of my filing cabinet.

one crate.

uhmm.. spilling over.

that's 2004-2010 in memorbilia.

we are talking:

movie stubs

(maybe a pair, or two of those theater 3d glasses you are supposed to return...)

chuck e cheese tickets

chuck e cheese tokens

carnival tickets

armbands for various functions

birthday invites from family & close friends

cards recieved for birthdays

the dude's drawings

the dude's classwork. (like everything with handwriting on it... )

my old paper planners

business cards of new resturants we tried

travel brochures of places we visited

valentines cards from classmates

airplane ticket stubs

luggage tags

the list goes on...

are you getting the picture?

i keep SO MUCH STUFF.

way too much.

well kept.

i weeded out alot.

(believe it or not)

why do i keep it all?

because i wish i could see something i wrote when i was 6...

or something from our many trips to the skating rink..

but my mom. she's SO not a hoarder.

i'm sure there is something somewhere besides pictures.

because my dad IS a hoarder..

(we are talking like 100 keys from long gone vehicles & houses.. i mean WHY?!)

 but i've never seen any of it.

so finding a middle ground in my genetics..

and my hoarding/purging tendencies...

i had to come up with a plan & a keep/toss method.

first. the weeding out.

what i keep:

one token/ticket from various places

(instead of a handful)

movie/concert/musuem/attraction stubs

(not 3 pairs of 3d glasses that will never be used again)

birthday cards that have a handwritten message

(not every single one)

sweet handwritten notes from the dude

his classwork that falls into one of these categories:

1. tells his point of view of something we did as a family

2. artwork that pertains to something we did as a family

3. artwork that represents his interests

4. anything that fits in a 81/2 x 11 sleeve that has his hand/foot print on it

(that handprint wreath from christmas on 11x14 paper.. ya. in the trash.)

christmas cards with pictures ON them

party invites

birth anouncements

so then what to do with these items so they can endure time & be enjoyed now as well?

 the paper items go into a plastic sleeve & then into my scrapbook.

they get mixed in with my actual pages.

i do yearly albums, so that's pretty easy for me.

i've learned i don't get memorabilia onto actual pages often,

so the smaller stuff, like ticket stubs, go into baseball card sleeves.

 i use a 12x12 album & mix up the page sizes.

not a scrapbooker?

grab a 3 ring binder & some page protectors & get to work.

you don't have to be a scrapbooker to get it into an album.

the non-flat 3d items like..

party bead necklaces from my baby shower

 the piece of mulch the dude stuck in his ear & had to have removed by the doctor when he was 5

(yes i kept it, they put it in a container & gave it to him & it just seemed wrong to pitch it..)

the cullen crest ring i got from the bk happy meal i ordered just for the ring..

and maybe one pair of 3d movie glasses.

go into a jar a la kelli crowe time capsule like.

& find their home in various places around the house.

the key is to treat your memorabilia like junk mail.

when you get it home, sort it & pitch it right away.

i do this every friday because the dude cleans out his desk at school..

sometimes things don't seem to fall into any category, but get saved anyway..

like this:

 

at first i thought...

'wow. maybe i am a little 'too into' vampire & werewolf stuff. first he knows who edward is, now he's drawing werewolf transformations?!'

then i asked him about it..

apparently it's NOT a werewolf.

it's a witch.

turning into a mouse.  

(and totally not influenced by my obsession of the supernatural on this one day)

apparently they read 'the witches' on this particular day.

sometimes you never know until you ask.

xo-k

linking to:
the blackberry vine

diy: beach memories in a jar

i know not everyone wants to sit down & glue pictures to paper & write stories. scrapbooking is not for everyone. my best bud christina takes ALMOST as many pictures as i do, but never does much with them, other than having them printed out. and that's okay. me personally, i like the stories that go with my pictures just as much as the pictures themselves. (and i'm kinda crazy about paper & stickers as well)

i'm not gonna lie, i have no idea how long ago i saw this idea featured in a country living magazine. (truth be told it could have even been a southern living or martha stewart magazine.. i don't remember) all i know is it stuck with me.

what is this idea? well, what the woman in this article had was a wall in her living room, covered in shelves, lined with clear glass spice jars. and those little jars were labeled with a place & a date &  filled with about a handful or more of sand. there were jars with snow white sand, black sand, volcanic rock, pebbles & everything in between. it was like a snapshot of each trip her family had made.

i decided to put my own spin on it. i liked the little jars, as they were more 'space friendly' but i like collecting shells as well, and i obviously couldn't squeeze shells into those little things. (not to mention i have a slight fascination with mason jars.) so i figured i could upsize to a mason jar & put a little sand as well as some shells in it.

(there are some jars that have just shells. we found so many at st. joesph's state park i couldn't part with any!)

so back in... 2005 i started my 'beach jar' collection. i have just a handful of jars. a trip to st. simons island, ga. two to cocoa beach. one to port st joe beach, fl. one to mexico city beach, fl. they each have a little sand & some shells we collected, along with a label on top of where it was & the month & year.

sometimes i feel a little silly whipping out my ziploc bag & scooping in beach sand as passersby eye me, but in the end it's worth it to have a little time capsule of our trip that sits on my dresser as a reminder of lazy happy family days :)

xo-k

ps- in case you are curious.. we only take shells that do not having living creatures inside them :)