Tag: Family

Friends of ours had a baby shower today. A few days ago, the mom-to-be asked if we would bring baby photos for a game they were playing. I didn’t think I had any baby photos, so I emailed my mom and Dave’s mom to see if they could locate and scan a photo to share. We then brought them to the party where they were put on a bulletin board and folks had to guess who was who.

Well, my mom was at my sister’s in Atlanta, helping to herd my sister’s little ones, so she was far away from “the historical documents” and unable to find a true baby photo. But they searched and did find one from when I was 4. Dave’s mom found a great one of him when they were visiting his grandparents who were living in Africa. Maybe I’m projecting, but what strikes me about each of these photos is how much of our adult personality is already apparent.

In mine, I’m intent on the photographer, seeking to engage (playing rock, paper, scissors?), but also overwhelmed and attempting to hide behind my hair.

There’s something magical about Dave’s. To my eye, there is very little resemblance between his adult self and the tot in the photo – he’s no longer blonde, his Roman nose isn’t there yet…and still there’s something very Dave-like in the attitude/the glance. It’s a kind of intent absorption, a “don’t bother me, I’m busy here”, and of course an engineer’s interest in things with moving parts. Sheila recognized the photo instantly as one of him because of his expression.

Note – I realized this morning that this is entirely circular. I’m guessing the reason these photos charmed our moms enough to have them select them from whatever else they had was particularly this thread. From the set of all photographs, our moms picked the ones that most captured us. 9/16/2007

Dave and I are nearing our 7th wedding anniversary, and that sounds like a lot to me. It doesn’t feel that long, which I suppose is a good thing. He and I were together for 6ish years before that, so our relationship feels like a long term, stable thing.

This past weekend my husband and I drove to Indianapolis to spend time with his grandparents and his uncle Jim. I’ve written about them before, Dave’s grandfather always impresses me with his deep commitment to his wife. Bud mentioned this time that they would soon have their 65th wedding anniversary (sometime this fall, I think) and that he had been in love with Jane for even longer than that.

Something about the words he used struck me, especially now that she is slipping away, sleeping much of the day, rousing for meals but distracted and disoriented. Though she’s still quick with the wisecracks, she’s also prone to sighs and confusion about where she is and how she got there. I recall an earlier visit with them, years ago, before they moved from their home to the apartment, at a time when her illness was first starting to show. At that time, when we pulled away after our visit and he stood on the lawn and watched us go, he looked so alone.

This visit, he said quite clearly that he’d been in love with her for more than 65 years. His words made me think of how much of commitment to another person is made up of intention, how longevity like that takes a strong will. I’m sure there’s good fortune in there, choosing a mate wisely, the support of friends and family and (for them) church, good health that they both made it to their mid-80s…lots of things combine to make a 65th wedding anniversary even possible. What I admire in him is his intention to remain in love at a 65th anniversary, his intention to take care of her now that she needs him so strongly, and his intention to appreciate the good in whatever is happening right at that moment.

I’m humbled by his commitment, and feeling kinda lucky that my husband, born 50 years to the day after his grandfather, has some of the same qualities–a strong willed focus on the positive–that I so appreciate in his grandfather.

I spent last weekend in New York and in Princeton. My aunt Christie hosted me in Astoria, Queens on either side of my 15th college reunion at Princeton, just as she hosted me on 4 fall breaks. I vacillated about whether or not to go–the job change had me schedule-flummoxed and decision-challenged, and I am so glad I decided to go. I had a completely wonderful time.

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Today, I chatted with one of the gentle, nice ladies who watch the kids at the Y while parents exercise. Many wear headscarves & sometimes they talk to each other in a language I do not know. When I see them at the store, they ask about my kids, and only have eyes for them when I come to drop them off, nodding at me briefly. Theo loves them. Last year, one brought pastries for “your Christmas” & they told me I was the only mother who allowed her child to have one. (When I picked him up, he was sitting on the lap of one while another fed him what looked like baklava, I doubt he had just “one.”)

I overheard a Y member exercising & talking about how “they” should speak English up there. It really angered me. Who cares what they speak to each other? They speak English to me. Today, one of the ladies told me she was from Iran & I couldn’t help thinking about the images we are getting in the media about that country. If it is so horrible, how did such sweet ladies come out of it? Just a thought. A realization that everything is not as clear as you first think.