Jun 1
2010

Today would have been Mom’s 57th birthday. Time continues to move forward without her; it used to feel like it wouldn’t. But these days come up and I feel compelled to write something.

The other day I was wandering around the aisles of Barnes and Noble, seeing what was new on the shelves, looking for something new to read. When I passed by the Mystery Genre Aisle, the distinctive cover of a new Elizabeth Peters’s Amelia Peabody Mystery caught my eye. Mom loved this series of novels, and it seemed like for many years my siblings, Dad, and I would attempt to be the person who bought the copy of the newest Peabody first so we could give it to Mom for her birthday or Christmas. Not that we didn’t all read the series. When certain new books came to my house you had to be fast before they sneaked off into another’s hands.

The series is set in the late 19th and early 20th centuries during the major archaeological discoveries in Egypt. Mom was fascinated by ancient Egyptian art. During her couple of years at the University of Houston, she had studied art history. I can recall going through one of her old art textbooks with her and her explaining what made Egyptian art unique and interesting.

I had thought that the series though had pretty much finished as the last one was set during the finding of King Tut’s tomb. It actually came out in March 2006, just a few months before Mom died, but I believe my parents had listened to it in the car when they came out for Grandma’s funeral. I remember them talking about it being a good wrap up for the series and how they didn’t think that there’d be any more of the novels.

But then there on the shelves was a new Amelia Peabody mystery. Despite the fact I knew I would buy it, read it and enjoy it, my first thought was how odd it was to not be buying it for my mom’s birthday, because I knew how much she would like it. It’s just one more change in the world that she’d missed. It strikes me that it’s the things she keeps missing that I find hardest to deal with – things like her first grandson to a new novel she would love to read.

But at least when I read a new Amelia Peabody mystery or an old one again, I’ll always remember Mom’s fondness for them and that I read them because she told me they were fun reads first.

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Mar 1
2010

Katie the Cat ?-2010

She had been sick for awhile (although I didn’t realize how badly until Thursday), but my cat, Katie, who’s lived with me for the past few years had to be put to sleep. I never intended to own a cat, in fact I don’t think anyone in my immediate family had intended to own a cat, but Katie found us. Katie wandered into our yard back in Texas, starving and in need of a place to stay. Kim and I were in college at the time. We’d never been allowed to have a pet any more exciting than a rabbits and the occasional hamster (not terribly loving pets), but then while we were in college the family got 2 puppies, Chiquita and Snuggles and Katie showed up not long after.

My mom began feeding Katie left over soft puppy food, she was so starved and let her move into the garage. Dad had never been particularly fond of cats. There was a bully of a cat down the street, though that kept stealing Kate’s food and terrorizes her. And then one day, Katie disappeared. She didn’t come out for her food, etc. We found her holed up under our wooden back porch. She’d been attacked by the other cat and her belly had a wound that had abscessed. We had to tear the porch apart to get her out and to the vet. It turned out to be a positive, since she moved into the house and Mom got a concrete back porch out of it. And the rest of us had a great time tearing apart the old porch. Swinging a sledge hammer of destruction is fun.

Kate remained in the house, chasing the dogs and keeping to herself mostly. She was always shy of strangers and men. And since the dogs were good at jealously guarding the laps from Katie, she didn’t really get overly close to anyone. She did enjoy playing though with bouncing balls and feathers and attacked Mom’s plants with regularity. She pretty much had the run of the house and enjoyed her space, and then Mom died and 10 months later Dad was moving to London.

Kim and Matt took in the dogs, since they had no pet restrictions where they were living, and I took in Kate. Traveling from Houston to Tampa with a cat is a strange experience, particularly since if left in a crate in the car she would yowl the entire drive. So I had to let her have the ability to stretch her legs and curl up where she wanted on the drive, or I was going to be driven to murder her on the drive.

I never had a pet on my own till Katie moved in, and now I no longer have a pet. It’s strange. The house is much quieter. I’d gotten used to having this creature jump on my lap to nap, and interrupt my Skype phone calls with the family. I’d gotten used to having someone to say goodbye to in the morning and hello when I got home again.

So my favorite memories of Katie:

  1. Hiding inside my old couch.
  2. Hiding under the tub when she first moved in. (She was incredibly talented at finding strange places to disappear into.)
  3. Curling up on my belly, purring.
  4. Using her paws to pull my hand into the correct position for scratching under her chin.
  5. The way she’d meow her demands.

So Katie, you’ll be missed.

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Feb 8
2010

The minivan I’ve driven for the past couple of years has been declared totaled by the insurance company. I’m kind of in shock. That van (a 2000 Ford Windstar) was the car my mother drove for most of my late teen-dom and early adulthood. In fact only the year before  she died (2007), was when she’d finally replaced the van with a Toyota Camry. My sister drove the van for the few years in between my ownership.

Every time I sat behind the wheel of that van, I felt a small connection to Mom and family stories. There was the dent in the rear bumper when Kim accidentally drove the car into the fire hydrant across the street. She didn’t believe the backing-up sensors actually were telling her there was something behind her. The van was our first really fancy car as a family. It had all the cool features: leather seats, backing-up sensors, split audio controls (so parents in front could listen to their own stuff), a TV screen and VCR. We tested its road trip mettle, practically immediately after it was purchased. The whole family, plus Grandma Jones, and Stephanie (our foreign exchange student from Germany) drove from Houston to Tampa for summer vacation (actually, we were taking Grandma back to her house in Tampa, too). That was our last, all together Disney vacation.

I can remember so many times coming home from college and errand-ing in that van with Mom. I loved riding in the passenger seat, chatting about life, etc, spending time with my mom. That van always remained connected to her, even after I wound up with it. Once it came into my possession driving it often felt like one more way to stay close to all those memories.

Of course I put plenty of memories and miles on it myself. Immediately after taking possession of it, Kim and I drove to Tampa from Baton Rouge with Katie Cat hiding out in the back all the way. Nathan, Morgan, Mary, Savio, and I drove it up to Dragon*Con about 7 months later. It was my mid-bulk transport vehicle. More recently I spent the summer hauling new and used, and new to me TVs around, and drove it all the way down to Key West with Mary’s sister and cousins. Even this December Mary used it to drive around with her family that was down for Christmas. And we were talking about driving it over to Baton Rouge for Erin’s wedding this July.

I didn’t really want the van when I first got it, but the reality is I loved it in the end. Sure gas could get costly filling its 20 gallon tank and repairs could be expensive, particularly when done incorrectly 3 times (don’t use Tire Kingdom for repairs), but that van was connected to my family history and my present. It will hold a special place in my car litany and will be missed.

Mary’s mom wrote a poem about the me and my van, which I’m copying below.

Anne’s Tan Van

This woman is named Anne.

If she wants to travel she can.

Anne likes to drive a van.

The one she has is really tan.

In Anne’s tan van you can go,

to a park, a store, or even a show.

Sometimes the van goes fast or slow.

It depends on the traffic, who’s to know?

When Anne’s at the park she might see,

a bench, a trail, some birds in a tree.

With a picnic lunch she will have tea.

I’ll bet there’s a sandwich for Anne and me.

All parks and picnics are not alike,

Anne is prepared if a mood does strike.

The van can bring along a bike.

She can ride the trail or take a hike.

When her travels are done at the end of the day,

Anne can decide to go or to stay.

The van holds friends for work or for play.

They’ll remember the fun even when they’re far away.

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Jun 1
2009

My mom’s death certainly happened around way too many dates associated with her. Between Mother’s Day and her birthday on the 1st of June as well as my parent’s wedding anniversary in July (at least that one is a little further away from her death day), late Spring is something of an emotional minefield. Needless to say the month of May starts out rough and ends rough. The thing about these anniversaries is that I can’t help but get a lost in memories about Mom.

Because today is her birthday, I felt I’d write about one of her birthdays. Once again there’s no over-arching message here or clever twist, just me trying to remember, honor, grieve, and all the rest of the crap I suppose I’m supposed to be dealing with, but mostly don’t want to because I’m not really interested in letting go or moving on. (Please ignore the occasional mini-tirade. I hear anger is one of those 7 stages.) Anyway back to my recounting of one of Mom’s birthdays.

When Mom turned 40, my father was working in England. He would stay there for what felt like forever and then come home for what felt like a brief period of time. I had just completed my freshman year of high school, Kim had finished 7th grade and the boys were still younger. Kim and I (I’m sure Matt and Nate were equally interested in throwing the party, they were pretty little at the time.) wanted to throw Mom a surprise 40th birthday. Both of us were of course too young to work and had little in the way of savings. We needed a sponsor.

It wasn’t quite the party we imagined. Mom wasn’t exactly surprised. We did manage to get many of her friends to come and some of her family, and we had a graveyard cake and hotdogs. It was a fun party and helped later when Kim and I planned our parents 25th anniversary party.

Mom’s 40th birthday year was also the year that we went to London to visit Dad, meet my parents’ old friends from when they lived in Norway. My Dad had a tomb cake waiting for Mom. It was the first 40th birthday cake the bakery in England had ever made for someone shaped like a tombstone. Too bad it was black marzipan icing on it.

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May 18
2009

Kim found the version of “Goodnight, my love” that Mom used to sing. Thank you, Kim. The words aren’t exactly the same she sang. I think it’s probably what the words she remembered hearing. The tune is absolutely the one. Brings back so many childhood bedtime rituals.

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May 18
2009

Sometimes when I’m half asleep or not really thinking about anything in particular, some snatch of memory will come upon me that I can hardly remember. I become obsessed attempting to remember what exactly I half remember. These memories are typically of childhood songs. Things my mother sang to us before bed. Yesterday I was reminded of something she use to sing to us, when she didn’t want to do a long lullaby.

What I remember is “Good night, my love. Sleep tight, my love. Pleasant dreams” something, something, something. My mind has completely blanked the end. “Pleasant dreams be your’s tonight” fits the music she used to sing it to, but for the life of me I can’t remember if this is correct or not. I figured I’d google it and see if I couldn’t find the song Mom was singing.

The closest I came to finding anything with similar lyrics is “Goodnight, my love”. I guess it’s an old standard. Apparently Paul Anka covered it. I don’t think this is the same as what she sang though. Perhaps Mom borrowed a tune from elsewhere and threw the words together from this one, I don’t know. Or I really just don’t remember the end that she sang. A very real possibility.

Most of the songs my mom used to sing to us, I only remember snatches from. I wish mostly though that she was around to ask what the words were.

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May 8
2009

Mom and me

Mom and me

As this date marks the 2nd anniversary of Mom’s death, I thought I needed to come up with some other way to mark the occasion that wasn’t getting drunk and tearing up. Honestly this only the 2nd year that May 8th has ever held any meaning other than being another day, so I really haven’t figured out a tradition or a coping method to handle this anniversary. This year I’m writing about a memory of Mom. I figure each year that passes, I’ll write about my Mom Memories. Cue cheesy music from Cats.

When I was a sophomore in high school, I was taking some sort of test (probably the pre-SAT or something along those lines) on a Saturday. The test was given at a different school than the high school I attended, and this was before I was a driver so Mom was on driving duties. When she came to pick me up, she decided we’d do a little mother/daughter bonding. She wanted to take me to see my first rated R film, Schindler’s List. I guess she’d read the reviews or determined from the word of mouth that it was important and educational movie for me to see. The film had already been out for awhile.

We arrived at the theater (which is now one of those tavern/movie theaters, but used to be a Lowes Theater I think), and Mom decided that she really wasn’t in the mood to watch a depressing Holocaust movie. She still wanted us to hang out, so we wound up watching White Fang 2. Wolf puppies are adorable. It’s not much of a story really, but it was one of my favorite days with my mom.

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May 7
2009

This weekend will be the first time I’ve played in a symphony orchestra since the year 2000. I’ve enjoyed playing in a group again. It makes the world feel like it’s kind of back in order. It also seems appropriate that on the anniversary of Mom’s death, I’ll be playing in an orchestra concert. Mom was the one who found the form for 5th grade strings class in my backpack and asked if I wanted to do it. I assumed we could never afford instruments and stuff, which I told Mom. She asked again if I was interested and told me not to worry about what we could and couldn’t afford. I said that yes I wanted to learn. I wanted to play the violin (like every other kid).

The 5th Grade String Program in our school district had a meeting for all interested students and parents to talk about what would be required and to talk about the instruments. My friends who were also joining the 5th Grade String program were all going to play the violin and so was I. I was set on it. Mom kept telling me not to make up my mind too soon and did I really want to play what everyone else was playing. Then then instructors in the program played each instrument to show off the sound, etc. When the viola played, Mom turned to me and said it reminded her of the sound of the Norwegian Hardanger Fiddle. I was sold. Viola was for me.

Concert Playlist for the Weekend

Water Music – George Frideric Handel

  • Overture
  • Air
  • Allegro deciso

Air – J.S. Bach

  • Coren Meeks, Cello Soloist

Prarie Night and Celebration Dance from “Billy the Kid” – Aaron Copland

Elsa’s Procession to the Cathedral – Richard Wagner

Intermission

Overture to the Barber of Seville – Giacomo Rossini

Symphonic Dances from “Fiddler on the Roof” – Music by Jerry Bock Arranged by Ira Hearshen

A Mancini Duo – Henry Mancini

  • The Pink Panther – Arranged by Calvin Custer
  • Peter Gunn

What’s Up at the Symphony – Arranged by Jerry Brubaker

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