Tuesday, December 8, 2009

thank the lord for small things

Mom and I were all set to head to the next city over to get her vision looked at and lo and behold, the heavens opened up. Neither one of us do the "get in and out of the car with an umbrella" thing very well, and the Camry isn't always so trusty when road tripping with the elderly. So we both said "nah" and stayed at home, rescheduling for later. The dogs are ecstatic to have me as company for another day.

We are taking this season in baby steps, partly because that's all we can handle but largely because we know that there are memories that need to be shared between the generations. Mama insists that we know where everything came from. LP came home with some hundred year old school slates that belonged to my great grandmother's baby brother! His name was Faris, by the way. He died of TB as a teenager.

I inherited most of my grandmother's linens when she died many years ago. Some of them still have the original creases that someone put on them. I have decided that maybe my cousins might like a piece of that so I'm working to make a collection for each of them to have and pass on to their kids. That is how family history stays alive when the ancestors are long gone.

My Dad started researching his roots about 15 years ago and found everybody except his grandpa Joe that ran off from Mississippi. Mama's Agee roots have been traced to France where her mother, Gaga, visited during the sixties as a young widow. She went to her grave apologizing that she didn't get to take me to Europe for high school graduation. It never mattered to me. She was my grandma and I'm the oldest of ....hmmm. I've lost count now. As we have aged we meet more often at the funeral home than at family gatherings. That's why Mom's birthday was so special.

We have this recordable book for my nephew in Virginia so BG and I played with it a little bit today but couldn't quite figure it out. Yeah, we're blonde, and proud of it. She told me the other night that I was very much like Gaga because "you just don't give a damn." And you know what?

She's right. ^j^

1 comment:

  1. Okay, I had a grampa Joe too. He came from Manitoba though. His dad came over from England. My mother had a picture of him ready to get on the boat. He was wearing THE biggest cowboy hat I've ever seen, sheepskin chaps, big old knee high boots beneath the chaps, a leather vest, and suspenders on the chaps. He wanted to conquer the Wild West. Settled in Manitoba as a farmer until 1927 when they moved to BC. See now you've got me reliving the past too.

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