"Something has happened. I feel funny. All I know is I can't wait to see how it turns out. I also know I can't stand to wait much longer."
My grandmother wrote those words in the early 1930s, before she married my grandfather, in a journal she started in 1932 as a sophomore in high school. There's no followup entry that explains what happened, or what she was waiting for. Maybe this was a sign love was blooming and her wedding day was on its way. A first kiss? A whispered promise?
She also wrote a poem in her journal called "Try Again," which I won't attempt to recite here. Altering any of the nuances of her words (not having the journal in front of me) or merely typing them instead of sharing the romantic cursive my grandmother exhibited back then and on every card or letter she ever wrote me, would just be wrong. The poem, as the title suggests, is about never giving up even when it's all you want to do. The verse ends, and in parantheses are the words "My first attempt." How fitting is that?
Sidenote: my grandmother used to love breakfast. Help me with my "Breakfast Project" by sending me your favorite morning-meal recipe!
Mom Mom lives in an assisted-living facility, although "living" may be the wrong word. Aren't they more like asssisted-dying facilities? Doesn't the life residents live pale starkly against the one they used to live? Of course. But once you're on the downside of the rollercoaster, there's usually not many more hills to climb. It is untrue that our elderly have outlived their usefulness, we just don't make the time to realize that. Physically, they are also hard to care for, and require attention most of us can't give. Don't know the answer, just have lots of questions as my own parents are getting older.
So, did everyone have a "good" Memorial Day? And what does that really mean? When I produced advertising for a department store chain, it riled me that each year we hung sales promotions on the graves of dead soldiers during the holiday. Remember why we have freedom, and save up to 33 percent on spring fashions!
Of course, there's an argument for that being OK. Freedom isn't free, but once you've got it, should it have strings? The U.S. economy is based on consumerism and choice, so why not go shopping in the name of America? Should we be forced to be reflective and solemn about those who have paid the ultimate price, or should we be able to bebop to the mall and buy some socks? Should we dwell on the threat of terrorism and the losses of lives, or should we just pass the potato salad?
I remember on the morning of Sept. 11, 2001, after the planes struck the towers, it being hard to go back to my desk and do anything productive. I felt small. And helpless. Things were happening thousands of miles away that were affecting me. But then time passes, and the anniversaries have been marked and the dead honored. And we are lulled back into the daily grind. And then there are Patriots Day sales. And life marches on. We should never forget, but remembering isn't the same as feeling it.
That's cute that your grandmother wrote that. I've been keeping a diary since I was six, and sometimes I look at my old entries and wonder what on earth I was writing about !??!
so true...i felt something reading this post. now i'm sad. i'm going to go pour some hot tea.