Category Archives: Musings

Grandpa’s email

Grandpa with blackberry

So, last night, amid the stupid dreams (my brother with an Afro, me wearing ugly dresses, cryptic messages containing images of rabbits drawn in moss on the side of a building) I dreamed my Grandpa Green, who died when I was 16, and I went grocery shopping and he pulled out a Blackberry. I said, “Grandpa, I didn’t know you had email.” and he replied that he’d had it for a while. Then I remarked that if I had known, I would have sent him emails — that we could have been exchanging emails all along. He agreed that that would have been good.

I’ve been thinking about the email I’d send my grandfather.

Dear Grandpa,

How have you been? It’s been a long time — not counting the grocery shopping last night; where did you go anyway? I looked for you after we checked out and you were gone. Good thing I had your email address.

I’ve missed you — I think of you often, especially when I’m grateful that my kids like to read. I owe it to you, in a way, because I often saw you reading and research now indicates that when children see adults they love and admire reading, they will become readers too. So your love of reading fostered my love of reading, and that, in turn, helped my kids love to read.

I know you know this, but I’m really sorry that I didn’t go golfing with you a second time that last summer I was in Chetek with you and Grandma. I thought I should spend time with Grandma — Mom said she’d get lonely when you were golfing– and at the time I thought I had all the time in the world to spend with you two, but then you got sick and never went golfing again. You’d think that, because of that incident I’d have taken up golf, but I haven’t.

You may know this already — I don’t know how much tabs you keep on the living — but I became a teacher, moved away from Elgin in the early 1980’s, then got married in 1985. Grandma was there, so she probably told you all of this. We moved to the Washington, DC area after we got married. In 1991 we had Clare — you’d love her. She’s artistic and loves to read. She’s very sweet and beautiful. She’s taller than me, but slender like I was. In 1993 we had Andrew. He was quite a handful for several years — but always smart and personable. He’s quite a charmer and funny and no longer quite a handful. You’d really get a kick out of him. I think your sense of humor and his are very similar.

You’d really like Dean – my husband. He’s a wonderful father and understanding husband. He’s smart, like you, and pretty even tempered (to off-set my volatile one). He works for the government — like you did, so you also have that in common.

Well, speaking of work, I need to begin my work day, but wanted to thank you for coming by and shopping with me last night. I’m so pleased that you have email, so now we can communicate.

Love to Grandma, Uncle Dick and Uncle Bud. If you see anyone from my dad’s family, tell them hi from me — Uncle Don and Aunt Pat, especially.

Hugs and kisses,

Your Loving granddaughter,

Dona

PS I’d be grateful if you’d check out my new blog and tell me who all those ancestors are.

The day the lights went out in Bethesda

So our electricity is back, along with Internet access and telephone connections. I’d say, “its about time,” but I liked spending time with my two very bored teenagers.

The electricity went out during a severe thunderstorm on Wednesday afternoon while Clare and I were driving back home after a meeting at her school. We heard a transformer blow as we neared our house and feared for our power. Andrew greeted us at the door with news that the power was out. We told him of our frightening drive from school (the rain and trees were blown sideways some of the time).

That afternoon, in between complaining about no electricity, television and Internet, the kids read books, jumped on the trampoline and listened to the battery powered radio about storm damage. When it got dark, Clare studied for her upcoming final exams by the light of about 16 candles. Andrew went to bed early.

On Thursday, since there was no school because it was graduation day, the kids alternated between studying and playing. Clare’s anxiety took over and she ended up going to work with Dean to study. Andrew read the first 150 pages of The Overachievers then helped me untangle some crochet yarn. Then he made a potholder with a loom I’d just bought.

When Clare got back home and after we’d eaten dinner, the three of us sat on the porch until dark, untangling yarn and talking.

Sure, we could have these kinds of interactions any day; the electricity does not need to be out to do so. But I think we’d all be thinking about what we could be doing — watching TV, writing blog entries, visiting Facebook — you know what I mean.

Today when the kids come home from school, everyone will be at their own screen doing their own thing and our interactions will be either non-existent or half-hearted.

At least I now have an imperfect neon green and orange pot holder as a visual reminder of our near-perfect day together.