Proof, I'm Doomed to LiveJournal
I'm at Grandma's house. Andrea drove me here last night. On the way, we pondered our summers. Perhaps, at the end of the summer, we can meet up in Houston where we both have relatives--her spunky great-aunt and my aunts Edith and her partner Margaret--and drive back up to Oberlin. Andrea has to be there for the soccer pre-season, so I don't know how well it will mesh with my family holiday to Kalaloch on the Washington coast or my Chinese class at the UW. Probably not too well. We can still dream. I would really like to see some Oberlin people over the summer, particularly Andrea.
Andrea came in for a little while after she dropped me off. She chatted with Grandma about Texas. Grandma grew up in Tyler, in NE Texas. Andrea grew up (until she was 9) in a little town across the bay from Galveston, not far from Houston. They shared their memories of the big pecan trees they each had on their farms and the pecan pies that their families would make. I can't imagine pecans on trees. I'm a fruit-tree person, not a nut-tree person. Pah, Seattle! One day, when I'm old and crusty and living in Texas, I'll hark back to my childhood when apples grew on trees.
Later last night, I got my minidisc out and recorded Grandma chattering on. She talked about my dad and uncles, the Vietnam draft, Intelligent Design (or creationism, as it's now called), and traveling around Europe. I often feel that I know so little about my dad before he was my dad. It's only been recently that I've begun to investigate and pry more, asking direct questions. Who was this man? How did he grow up? And also, perhaps more pressing, how did Grandma grow up?
This morning, I made some coffee for Grandma and we ate cereal together, reading various things that were lying around on the breakfast table. There was an old Us Magazine... from October 2000. (Yeah, OLD.) Many of the articles talked about the things that had gone on in the last month, marriages, lawsuits, suicides... Hollywood gossip. Everytime they mentioned September 11, I was certain they would talk about it or refer to it as a point in history. But of course, this was a year and a half earlier. It just felt so strange to see that date tossed around so casually.
It was a nice day. I planted some lilies and gladiolas in the backyard (There is so much clay in Ohio ground! Did a glacier pass through here or what?) and watched the neighbors' kids make up special rules for Mark McGuire and Mark McGuire playing two-person baseball. I watched Grandma hobble around the house with the physical therapist following her along. I washed clothes and towels and sheets. I went grocery shopping. I made fruit smoothies, sandwiches, and pasta with some stir-fried vegetables. Now I have to prepare for my classes. Oh, how I do.
I'm going back to classes tomorrow morning, and returning in the afternoon. Grandma is lending me her car for the day. A big boxy red Buick. ("I only buy A-MER-ican cars. You can trust 'em!") She can't drive it right now, but it's symbolic of her independence, so I have too return it to post-haste! Jordan will be back by lunchtime, so Grandma won't be alone for too long. She'll take me back to Oberlin once I return Grandma's car.
Andrea came in for a little while after she dropped me off. She chatted with Grandma about Texas. Grandma grew up in Tyler, in NE Texas. Andrea grew up (until she was 9) in a little town across the bay from Galveston, not far from Houston. They shared their memories of the big pecan trees they each had on their farms and the pecan pies that their families would make. I can't imagine pecans on trees. I'm a fruit-tree person, not a nut-tree person. Pah, Seattle! One day, when I'm old and crusty and living in Texas, I'll hark back to my childhood when apples grew on trees.
Later last night, I got my minidisc out and recorded Grandma chattering on. She talked about my dad and uncles, the Vietnam draft, Intelligent Design (or creationism, as it's now called), and traveling around Europe. I often feel that I know so little about my dad before he was my dad. It's only been recently that I've begun to investigate and pry more, asking direct questions. Who was this man? How did he grow up? And also, perhaps more pressing, how did Grandma grow up?
This morning, I made some coffee for Grandma and we ate cereal together, reading various things that were lying around on the breakfast table. There was an old Us Magazine... from October 2000. (Yeah, OLD.) Many of the articles talked about the things that had gone on in the last month, marriages, lawsuits, suicides... Hollywood gossip. Everytime they mentioned September 11, I was certain they would talk about it or refer to it as a point in history. But of course, this was a year and a half earlier. It just felt so strange to see that date tossed around so casually.
It was a nice day. I planted some lilies and gladiolas in the backyard (There is so much clay in Ohio ground! Did a glacier pass through here or what?) and watched the neighbors' kids make up special rules for Mark McGuire and Mark McGuire playing two-person baseball. I watched Grandma hobble around the house with the physical therapist following her along. I washed clothes and towels and sheets. I went grocery shopping. I made fruit smoothies, sandwiches, and pasta with some stir-fried vegetables. Now I have to prepare for my classes. Oh, how I do.
I'm going back to classes tomorrow morning, and returning in the afternoon. Grandma is lending me her car for the day. A big boxy red Buick. ("I only buy A-MER-ican cars. You can trust 'em!") She can't drive it right now, but it's symbolic of her independence, so I have too return it to post-haste! Jordan will be back by lunchtime, so Grandma won't be alone for too long. She'll take me back to Oberlin once I return Grandma's car.