One year, I did a picture-a-day project and I liked it. I finished my personal commitment and stopped. I want to do that again.
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Category: family
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Esme stole my seat. I was not gone 10 minutes. -
I will never in my life watch a wood fire burn without thinking of my maternal grandmother. Kate always had a fire place and used it.
I vividly remember going to her house one year for Xmas and sitting by the fire to eat pound cake and drink orange juice. The orange juice was odd. Not as odd as drinking it after brushing your teeth. But, it should have been milk. I suspect something didn’t get picked up at the grocery. And, aside from my grandfather who had already gone to bed, I have no clue where the rest of my family was.
When I reminded her of that night 30-odd years later, she was surprised that I remembered it, too.
After her house was broken into twice after my grandfather died, she decided to take my parents up on their offer to live with them. (She was out of town both times.) That mother-in-law’s apartment had a fireplace, too. When she didn’t remember to open the flue when she started a fire and sat bundled in a blanket with the windows open until they came home from work, her daughter and son-in-law had to start making plans for her to live somewhere with more supervision as they both still had to work full time and there was no one to stay with her when they weren’t there.
I have no idea how many nights we sat by a fire and talked about poetry and history. She was especially enamored of the Tudors.
Orange and black embers with a lick of blue flame is a portrait of my Mama.
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I do not remember going to the movies with only my dad. I vaguely remember going to the drive-in with both of my parents when I was wee, before I had sisters. and I remember being in the car with the sound box in the window more than I remember the movie, although I’ve been told that’s where I saw Snow White the first time.
Our parents did take all of their daughters to see Blazing Saddles. They had already been to see it and wanted to watch us when the cowboys had beans around the campfire. My sisters were 9 and 7; I was 14.
My mother, grandmother and I went to see Mary, Queen of Scots together. I was shocked by the murder of Lord Dudley. They were surprised by that. Kate said, “You knew he was murdered.” I said, “I guess I didn’t expect to watch it happen.” The only other movie I ever saw with my grandmother was Titanic and she was ready to leave after the ship sank. The love story was uninteresting to her. I believe she thought it was going to be a documentary.
I watched television with my dad. Laugh In. M*A*S*H. Hee Haw. Carol Burnette. I remember the 3 of us watching Ed Sullivan and Red Skelton together. But, when I was older, my mother either did other things while we watched those shows or didn’t really participate in the laughing and commentary.
One of her oddities was her loathing of day time soap operas but love of the night time ones. She did everything she could to stop me watching All My Children and Dark Shadows. I assumed she thought Dark Shadows would give me nightmares. But, I think she just hated that it was a soap opera. I binged AMC 2 or 3 times in my life, watching for a few weeks and then getting tired of it and leaving it alone for years. She always rolled her eyes and nagged me about watching it.f
But, my parents watched the night time soaps together and she loved them. Dallas and Knots Landing were never missed. Except by me. I thought they were stupid, the people and the stories. And not in an amusing way. The 30 minute day time shows amused me and the 60 minute night time shows did not.
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Actually, they were probably 2 and a half. I was still sharing space with my first husband in Charleston, South Carolina but, functioning as a single parent. I’ve forgotten where he was. It doesn’t matter. I wanted food I had not prepared for myself and served to me. I wanted some graciousness. We had been going out to eat with my parents for their whole life so restaurants weren’t entirely alien. This was just our first time solo.
I called an Italian restaurant down the road to see if they needed a reservation. They did not. It was the middle of the week and a fairly quiet evening.
We dressed up. My child has always loved to dress for festive occasions and knew that this meant we were doing something special.
When the host saw my date, his eyes got big for a moment. I said, “If there is a problem, we can leave.” He recovered and said, “Oh no. Right this way.” and led us to a booth. “I’m afraid we don’t have any high chairs or boosters.” I said. “We’ll be fine without that.”
A couple across the room saw us and looked worried as they leaned in to talk to each other, shooting glances at us as they talked. Other heads had turned as we walked across the room.
My date had water, glass half full, with a straw and spaghetti with meat sauce, skip the salad. I had unsweetened tea, salad and some other dish. We chatted as we waited.
They were a little messy eating and decided to sit on my side of the table so it was easier for me to help manage the pasta. The only mess was their face, though. Not the tablecloth or the floor. And they stayed with me. No trying to investigate the room. I had decided before we left the house that if any of that started, I would pay and we would leave.
When the waiter brought our check, he had gone from the nervous young man darting looks at my companion to all smiles. He said, “Please, come again. It has been a delight to serve you.”
The other diners around the room smiled at us as we walked by and nodded at the child with a little tomato sauce on their sweater.
The smiling host held the door for us and invited us to return any time.
This is one of the snapshot memories I have of my little child.
Another is two years later. They had samosas while I ate saag paneer at a booth in Greensboro. The Indian restaurant was a little more casual and my child was 4. The staff was quite sanguine about a child dining with their mother.
We’re going out for Indian food this Saturday. They will be 31 on Sunday. Exactly half my age. They say it feels like they’re catching up to me.
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I remember getting so mad at my parents when I was expected to go to bed at 8:00 (or 8:30. I don’t remember. It’s been a minute.) in the summer when the sun and school were still out.
A friend shared this with me in celebration, remembrance and teasing.
In winter I get up at night
And dress by yellow candle-light.
In summer, quite the other way,
I have to go to bed by day.I have to go to bed and see
The birds still hopping on the tree,
Or hear the grown-up people’s feet
Still going past me in the street.And does it not seem hard to you,
When all the sky is clear and blue,
And I should like so much to play,
To have to go to bed by day?~Robert Louis Stevenson, “Bed In Summer,” from “A Child’s Garden of Verses”
I am the Audience 