A Generation Passes


This is a picture of my and Emily’s great-grandparents, Florida and Ambrose Burns, with their five children.  In the back row on the left is their son Milton, whom I barely remember, and on the far right is my and Emily’s grandfather Laton, (who I’ve written about here and here) who died in 1970, years before we were born.  In the front row are our Reva, Polly, and Roy, the three siblings I remember well.  My grandfather’s sisters, Reva and Polly, I have especially fond memories of.

Uncle Roy died three or four years ago.  Aunt Polly died when I was a freshman in high school, after an awful battle with ALS.  And Aunt Reva passed away this weekend, on Saturday after a short battle with cancer, at age 77.

So a generation has passed.  My grandfather’s siblings are gone.  But not forgotten.

“Extended family” is something of an anomaly these days.  Something I remember and respect about my Aunt Polly is that extended family was very important to her.  Her brother Laton had passed many years ago, but she often had his children and grandchildren over to her house on Sundays and holidays.  She wanted to make sure his grandchildren knew her grandchildren.  She would come over to my grandma’s for Sunday lunch often, too.  Aunt Polly, like my grandmother, was widowed very young.  Unlike my grandmother, she was sociable and outgoing.  She got my grandma out, they took trips together, and they were great friends.  Aunt Reva was a great friend to my grandmother as well. They were more than sisters-in-law.  They were friends, and they took care to make sure my grandma didn’t sit at home by herself all the time, as was her inclination.

Another thing I really appreciated about Aunt Polly is that she always told us she loved us.  It became a joke as we got older, to do an imitation of her saying “Aunt Polly loves you!”  in the cheerful, sugary tone of voice she’d use with us.  It may have made me giggle as I got older, but looking back, I am so thankful for that.  That is something many children long to hear from any adult, and Aunt Polly always made sure we knew she loved us and that we were special to her.

When she fought ALS, she fought it with valor.  She came to every family event she could, even when she couldn’t talk, had to hold onto another person for balance, and had to wear a mask to cover her uncontrollable facial muscles.  It was more important to her to be with us than it was for her “keep up appearances” – so by not being afraid to lose her dignity she has cemented herself in my mind as one of the most dignified people I will ever know.

My Aunt Reva was the youngest of the bunch.  She was beautiful.  I always remember her as a blonde, even though her hair is quite dark in the picture above.  She had a great smile, as you can see, and was always very warm.  What I remember most about her is her hospitality.  It was also important for her to keep our extended family together so she and my Uncle Jim hosted family reunions at their home every year when I was growing up.  They lived about four hours away and we’d take the drive down to the Lake Cumberland area where they had a big house, with an attached pool house with an indoor pool.  To us kids, it was like heaven on earth!!  Aunt Reva was always the most gracious hostess, she and Uncle Jim housing and feeding and extra twenty or so people for an entire weekend.  Every association I have of them is fun, fun, fun.  Good food, swimming, relaxing, family, warmth, fun.  I have especially good memories of being with Emily and her sister Anna there.  Those are some wonderful memories, and I am thankful to my Aunt Reva for facilitating their making.

It makes me feel sad, but not just sad, that they are all gone now.  Reflective, I guess, about things I’ve never reflected on before.  Emily and I are close, and we’ve done a good job so far of making sure our children know each other.  Anna will have a child soon to add to our cousin-brood.  My brothers have children and my kids looove their cousins.  I am thankful for the example that was set for us about how important our extended family is, and I hope we will continue to be intentional about being a family who truly spends, loves, and values our time together as life gets busier and more complicated.  Because it will slow back down again, and I don’t want any of us to be alone when that happens.  When my brothers and I are gone, when Emily and Anna are gone, I want my children to have not just each other and their children but their cousins and their cousins’ children to live life with, to be friends with as well as family.  That’s what we’ve been given and what I hope we can give them.

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Patience is a Virtue

what-evs, Mom

One of the things that has been good about Joshua going to school this year is the special time I get to spend alone with Sophie. Since she was my second-born, I obviously didn’t get too much alone time with her when she was a baby. And she and I are loving our time together.

Last Friday I needed to go to Kroger, but wanted to give Sophie a fun outing before I imprisoned her in a shopping cart (although truthfully, if I can get one of those race car carts, she’s pretty happy!) so we went to Tim Horton’s for a donut. Since our last pre-Kroger T-Ho’s run had ended in me getting a verbal spanking from the super-conscious folks who make Clorox wipes, I decided to go into Tim Horton’s to dine this time.

I sat Sophie at a table near the counter and ordered our donuts. Then, I turned to give her a reassuring smile while I waited for our order to be brought to the counter.

“Have my donut?” said Sophie.

“It’s coming sweetie, we have to wait our turn.”

Sophie likes waiting about as much as she likes getting her hair brushed, so she responded with a loud, disgruntled FUSS.

“No fussing,” I admonished her. “Say, ‘I’ll have patience.'”

My blonde little angelic-looking daughter narrowed her eyes, opened her mouth and screamed in a voice that was straight from Hades:

“I’LL HAVE PATIENNNNNCCCCCCE!”

Her scream was SO loud, and SO – well, scary – that the guy in line in front of me jumped about a foot in the air. When he turned to see the source of the fury, he cracked up laughing.

And so did I. Instead of scolding Sophie, I just dissolved into laughter. Hey, I told her to say “I’ll have patience” and she said the heck out of it. In a really distinct “Sophie” way.

Just then our donuts came up, and we dug in to some chocolate, sugary, donutty goodness. And Sophie didn’t even fuss when she asked for another one and I said “no”. So it wasn’t a total fail in the parenting column, right?

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For Every Action

For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.

Friday afternoon I took my kids to the play place at a local mall. They had a great time, running off some energy and playing with other kids. But about 30 minutes into our visit, I noticed a little boy playing there, who looked to be about four years old, was wearing a t-shirt that said, in large letters, “No, YOU F***ing Calm Down!” Except it said the actual word, with no lovely asterisks, but with a real u-c-k.

Seriously.

I am guessing that by dressing their child this way, his parents, (who looked like BonQuiQui Barbie and Tupac Ken) were hoping to get a reaction of some sort out of someone. Fortunately, I am not dumb enough to confront two tough-looking strangers at the mall play place, so I kept my reaction silent.

Until now. An open letter.

Dear Parents of the Boy with the “F” Word T-shirt at the Mall Play Place,

What is WRONG with you? Perhaps it is a point of pride with you that your four-year-old’s lexicon (look it up) includes the “F” word, and that his clothing gave the proverbial middle finger to everyone who laid eyes on him. I don’t know. But it made me want to vomit. And I am so, so thankful that my six-year-old, who can read (bigger words than that even, try not to feel intimidated) didn’t see L’il Expletive (again, look it up) rockin’ the F-bomb shirt. Because, really, “Mommy, what does f***ing mean?” is not what I want to hear out of MY child’s mouth.

You made me really mad by bringing your son to the mall with that shirt on. But I got over being mad, and was just thankful that my son was oblivious. Then after FLEEING the play place (thanks for that), I just felt really, really sad. Sad for your son, because I am guessing if that’s what you clothe him with, that you’ve instilled an “f-you” attitude in him as well. Perhaps he thinks already, at his young age, that the world owes him something (everything?). I gotta tell you, this isn’t going to serve him well. Not in kindergarten, not in school, work, family relationships, friendships – not anywhere. You’re setting your son up for failure. And he deserves more than that. He’s a child. Don’t give him the adult responsibilities that come with wearing that word on his chest.

And also? Pick another play place.

And also? Don’t cut me.

Love,

Jenny

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