Here and there I've posted some blogs on Mondays about different memories, mostly of my parents. Over the week-end, my oldest, Brande, had written a really good blog post about her Grandpa that she never got to meet because of her dad, my ex-husband,
Mr.Wonderful. Back in April of last year, I had made the decision not to write about Mr.Wonderful anymore. As "wonderful" as he still is, I know at times it was hurtful to my kids, and we all get to a point that we need to move on. I do my best to try and ignore and let go of all the things he continues to do to my kids. They are adults, and as hard as it is, I know I have to step away. This past Christmas was especially difficult. Every Christmas Eve my kids go over to their dad's for a couple hours. This past Christmas Eve, their dad pulled another, "Mr.Wonderful" on them. When Bryce, Justine and Morgan came home that night, I was sitting by the Christmas tree, having a drink and listening to Christmas music and enjoying the holiday. As you know, it doesn't make much to make me happy. I will never forget Bryce quietly sitting on the couch holding Morgan, not saying much. He finally looked up and said to me, "why does he do that"? It's difficult for a parent, even when your "kids" are grown to see them hurt by someone that has also hurt you for years. But life moves forward, and I "accept" that some things in life will never change and there will always be "Mr.Wonderful" episodes. It hurts me to see my kids hurt, but I'm a better parent to my kids by "letting it go". It's not my war, it's not my fight anymore. My kids are tight, they are strong, and I'm proud of them.
Brande does a lot of different things besides the nursery, Johnnye Merle Gardens, at Country Roads. She teaches an art program after school, has a non-profit organization, Living Histories, and a few other things. She also writes very well. I admire her for pushing to know her family history on her dad's side of the family. Mr.Wonderful didn't share much. Me, on the other hand, I'm an open book, what you see is what you get. Below is a recent post from
Brande's blog. I am very proud of the words she wrote below, and her determination to know her family history.
"I took some photos of my paternal grandfather home with me on Christmas Eve to scan. I’ve only ever had one or two pictures of him, and noticed my father had several I hadn’t seen when I was over at his house for the holiday. I’ve never known much about him; my father talks of him a bit more now, gradually forming a fuller picture beyond what I’ve grown up knowing. I had a basic image, things like his name, the fact that he played minor league baseball (he was a pitcher, and I have a baseball sitting in my office on which he wrote his stats from one of his games, my great grandmother had a several of them in her closet and gave them to us when my dad, grandmother, sister and I visited her, 99 years old, about a year before she died) and had a shot at the majors until being drafted in the Korean war. Frostbite took away that career – I had always assumed it was in his hands, fingers, but recently my father clarified it was actually in his feet and ankles – he couldn’t run like he once could upon returning home. He worked for a newspaper, perhaps the Orange County Register, I don’t know completely, my father is always vague about these things, a reflection, I guess, on his own feelings and relationship with him, which, even though he’s been dead over 20 years now, is probably changing.
He never saw any of his grandchildren, never even met my mom – I was about 6 or 7 when he died, by that point both of my siblings were already born – and I can only assume, from what I’ve gathered from other family members, that was my father’s doing or choice, not my grandfather’s. Who knows. I’ve been angry at my father when I was younger to the point that I might have been tempted to do the same to him; it’s not in my place, I suppose, to blame him for making that decision. Time and aging and maturity is what shapes us as people, I think; in a strange way as my own relationship with my father shifts I get a better picture of both who he and my grandfather were and are.
Anyway, really like the images themselves; the uniform photo I am assuming was his official ‘player’ photo for his minor league team, the second one I have been told was him signing his league contract."
This man above, Bill Jackson, who I believe I was "allowed" to talk to a couple of times on the phone but was never allowed to meet while I was married, was my kids Grandpa! He "IS" a part of my kids and my grandbabies "roots", and I'm anxious to see some more photos. Regardless of how you feel about some of your family, they are still "blood" and a part of you. Props to Brande for doing this! Makes me proud.
These old goofy, vintage cement bunnies are finally a family again! Actually, I never knew that the two my parents had for years, was ever missing a family member! When my parents moved to assistant living we took the bunnies with them. And after my folks died, I just couldn't leave the bunnies homeless, so they live in my garden! I'm one of those people that can't just throw away. My parents bought their house new. It was a small neighborhood in Long Beach that was expanding because of Douglas Aircraft nearby, around 1950. Johnny and Irene Dalhstrom were the last of that group of owners left. Johnny is 97 and sharp as a whip, and his wife, Irene, who is a little younger is doing pretty well for her age. About six months ago, their only daughter, Sherry, had come down to fly them up to Washington to put them in an assisted living near her. Recently she was down trying to list the house on the market and go through the house looking for "valuables". I never understand how easily the memories of the past, of your childhood, of your family are so easily tossed aside while in search for the mighty dollar. She gets what she wants, leaves some of the stuff she wants to be shipped and just leaves everything behind! Then a day later she calls Vinnie, Katie's husband, wanting to know if they will have a sale using the stuff she left behind. I mean she didn't even empty out the refrig, from six months ago when her parents lived there! First, there is nothing of real value there except the house itself. Secondly, she just bailed with no intention of doing anything with ALL the stuff she left behind. Katie, feeling sorry for her, told her she would go see if there was anything she (I couldn't stand Sherry when I was a kid, she being a few years older than me, I got in trouble once for throwing her sweater in a trash can on my way home from school, she's now an old spoiled brat and nothing has changed). All of this brought back a lot of memories for me.
When my mom and dad bought their house, they planted a magnolia tree in the front yard. Yep, that's me standing there. As I think most know, after my parents died, Katie and Vinnie bought the house which really warms my heart.
My kids, while growing up played under the magnolia tree as well. I still remember my parents, as they got older, sitting in lawn chairs under the big tree, sipping ice tea and watching my kids play! And now, I have that pleasure as well to watch Riley, and soon Morgan, and soon Riley's little brother play under that same tree while I sip a cold Corona occassionally! 
After work on Monday, Katie wanted me to stop by the house, and see if I thought there was anything of value that she could sell to help Sherry, you know Sherry the most selfish person in the world! For some reason, it just got to me. Sherry had no feelings for the life her parents had built in that home for not only themselves but for her as well. No sentimental value about anything that had no real monetary value. I saw the deck of cards above in the kitchen drawer. For years, while I was a kid, my mom and dad would play Pinnacle, with Johnny and Irene. Just seeing those cards brought back memories so quickly. I didn't want to take any STUFF, as I need nothing. Katie could see it bothered me in that I knew "why" Johnny & Irene kept those cards for all those years, yet their airhead daughter didn't have a clue. The cards came home with me.!
I saw all of Irene's old cookbooks, and then a little file where some of her favorite recipes were stashed, stacked neatly on a little shelf. And again I wondered, didn't Sherry want "something" that had meant something to her mom all these years. So, yep, I took those home too!
Vinnie was out in Johnny's garage. A single car garage, like my parents, where Johnny had so well organized his tools and things. In the middle of the garage, there was a stack of random stuff under blankets that were to be shipped to Sherry. A lot of the stuff was in totes. The kid in me wanted to open some of those totes and mess with her just like I did when I was a kid. At least the thought made me smile even though I thought it best not too. If only Katie wasn't there!! Actually, Vinnie helped me put together some tools that I could actually use even though old. As we all know, "my boy Bryce" takes everything I own so it was nice to put together a little toolbox made up of Johnnye's tools. And it's nice to know that at one time Johnnye used these. Johnnye who would always say, "hello Susie"! One time when Brande was in junior high, she got out of the car first. And as Johnny always did, he shouted, "hello Susie" followed by "wait, you're not Susie" after he saw me! I can still see Johnny with those old paint brushes, up on a ladder, touching up the trim on his house. I have a special place for the brushes now. ;0} 
Yesterday Riley and Morgan were playing in my family room. Justine and I were talking about stuff, like why some of us cherish memories so much more than others. Then I started telling her about all the sweaters my mom had knitted and crocheted my kids when they were small. And how I had saved them all. I pulled out the bag, and we put some on Riley and some on Morgan. I know that would make my mom happy that her great-granddaughters can now where those sweaters. I guess memories are what you make them. Not all of us need the "stuff" to remind us, but I have to say, some of my "stuff" really means a lot to me!
