The Holidays - there is no denying this insanely busy time of year. Most of you reading this, well, you are well aware that I am not a fan of the Holidays.
But lately time has been adjusting my wisdom and I have begun considering things like: my parents: how long I have left with them; the same for my beautiful, 88-year old Grandmother. I think about the role I want and need to play in my three young cousins’ lives. I am single. I have no children and I have no pets (that live with me).
I’m sure I won’t be alone until the end of my days. But what if . . .
This Thanksgiving I made the usual drive along I-64 East to what I still refer to as "home", even though I haven’t lived there since I was eight. I’m not sure why this is, but every time I make that turn onto Boyscout Drive, a curvy, barely two-lane road, bordered by beautiful, huge trees and creek that runs along its side, I feel this sense of peace and calm come over me. And when my tires rattle and hum across the brick road on which my Granny's house sits, my heart skips a beat.
We did the usual - talking, meandering about the house, watching football, sneaking homemade candy and squeezing my grandmother on every pass by. I lay in the floor and played Mario Cart with two of my cousins while watching the third nap on the couch. We were summons to dinner, said grace and commenced to the feasting. 88 years old and the woman STILL puts out a full spread dinner! Amazing!
Promptly after, we all took our positions for the post-feast nap. Everybody has a spot!
By 5:30 it was time to begin the drive back to Lexington. I had packed an overnight in case I decided to stay but had not told anyone in case I really just wanted to come home.
I said my good-byes, hugged my cousins, my Granny and tooted my horn as I pulled out of the driveway.
By the time I reached the first crossroad my eyes had filled.
I continued on.
Preparing to turn onto Boyscout Dr., I took a long pause at the stop sign.
I continued on.
Around the bend of a curve I pulled off on a side street to pull myself together.
I continued on.
The last bend and I’d be to the Highway. I pulled over again.
“This is ridiculous. You are going to go home to sit there by yourself. You have nothing to do tonight and you have nowhere to be tomorrow until 6pm.”
With that, I turned the car around.Tears no long streamed but now poured freely from my eyes, and I went home.
I sat for over 2 hours drinking coffee, talking and laughing with my Grandmother. I snuggled my head along side my 12 year old cousin’s on my 21 year old cousin’s lap as she played with our hair. We watched Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy. I taught them how to french braid (I think. . .) and I watched my 18 year old cousin spiff himself up before heading to his girlfriend’s house for a second dinner. I kissed them ALL goodnight.
The next morning I spent more time drinking coffee and talking to my grandmother and I spent more time with the girls. When I finally left around Noon that day, I didn’t shed a tear.
That night, my mother commented on how happy my Granny was that I had turned around and decided to stay.
I have memories now.
Ones I wouldn’t have had I kept driving; ones that will last me a lifetime.
Time passes so fast.
Time can be lost. It is the truest of truths.
But it can also be captured.
All I had to do was turn the car around.
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Happy Birthday Daddy!
Happy Birthday Daddy!
Today is the 35th anniversary of his 27th birthday. You see, this time 35 years ago, my mother was pregnant with yours truly and 9 days after this day, my arrival would make Charles Clark, a father.
A father, to me at least, is a man who has physically created a child; nothing more.
To me, it is all that comes after, that makes a father a daddy.
First, let me give you some stats on this man. (I love rattling off his resume! It overwhelms me with pride!)
He is retired US Air Force- 11 years; retired US Army reserve Master Sergeant -10 years; retired Ashland Oil (Inc. for you newbies)- 31 years and is in his 23rd year teaching Computer Information Systems at Bluegrass Community & Technical College.
He met my mother in 1970 and asked her to marry him 6 months later. He ate hotdogs for 6 months to purchase her engagement ring, shipped it over to the states from England, where he was stationed. My brother (whose permission to marry his mother, was asked) placed it on her finger.
I love the look on his face when he talks about marrying her. He says there was no woman more beautiful than her. (He is right – she looked like Grace Kelly)
They have been married 38 years. I don't know of many kids who can say that these days.
He began his college days at Marshall University. This would seem normal except I think he was 30, went to class full time during the day and worked full time evening shift at Ashland Oil. I was 3, my brother was 15 and my mother had to deal with ALL of us - full time. He says he would & could have never done it if it weren't for her. I like to think of them, young, as a team; them vs the world. I like to think they won.
I remember him sleeping (when he could) in this little room that was attached to our garage. I’m sure I woke him numerous times hitting tennis balls against the building. I'm sure I didn't say I was sorry. I am.
He graduated Cum Laude four years later.
As an eight year old, I had no idea what it took for him to do that.
Today, it moves me to tears.
We moved to Lexington in 1982 with the Ashland Oil transfer.
The house my parents purchased is where I grew up and will always call “home”.
When I was 8 I joined the swim team at the neighborhood club. When I was 10 (I think) I joined a soccer team. I remember the look on his face when, during soccer practice, I asked if we were playing offense or defense. He looked at me and said “both” and when I looked COMPLETELY confused, he patiently explained it all.
I don't recall winning or losing ever being an issue. Instead I was always asked if I did the best I could do and he was proud regardless.
I don’t recall my dad ever missing a single meet or game.
Well . . . maybe once.
I was on the high school diving team. I remember telling him our meet was in E-town. The meet came and went. I was SO upset because I never spotted his face in the crowd AND he was my ride home. As I exited the building he appeared.
“Where have you BEEN???” I asked, surely with my classic annoyed tone.
“Stephanie,” he asked “WHERE are we?”
My face dropped and my heart raced.
“EKU” I replied.
“And is that E-town?” he asked.
“No. . .” I said, dropping my head.
"Well, howd'ya do tonight?" he asked.
He had driven 85 miles to Elizabethtown (E-town – like I’d told him) only to find out there was NO swim meet there, driven 117 miles back to Eastern Kentucky University (in Richmond, KY) to pick me up, then 27 miles home. It was a LONG 27 miles.
I don’t recall him seeming very upset with me although I think now, I know better.
This is just one story. One story out of hundreds I could tell you. No matter what they are or how they began, they all end the same; with a hug, a kiss and an “I love you.”
Why did I choose THESE things to tell you about my dad?
Because to me, they are examples of his love and devotion to his family, his determination to make his life better so our lives could be better, his patience in raising a daughter, and the honorable way in which he accomplished them all.
He is one of only two people I trust with my world, my life and my unconditional love.
He is unfailing.
He is my hero.
He is so much more than a father; he is all the stuff that comes after.
He is my daddy and I am so proud to be his daughter.
Happy Birthday!
I love you so very much.
Your chick a dee,
Dork-ette.
Today is the 35th anniversary of his 27th birthday. You see, this time 35 years ago, my mother was pregnant with yours truly and 9 days after this day, my arrival would make Charles Clark, a father.
A father, to me at least, is a man who has physically created a child; nothing more.
To me, it is all that comes after, that makes a father a daddy.
First, let me give you some stats on this man. (I love rattling off his resume! It overwhelms me with pride!)
He is retired US Air Force- 11 years; retired US Army reserve Master Sergeant -10 years; retired Ashland Oil (Inc. for you newbies)- 31 years and is in his 23rd year teaching Computer Information Systems at Bluegrass Community & Technical College.
He met my mother in 1970 and asked her to marry him 6 months later. He ate hotdogs for 6 months to purchase her engagement ring, shipped it over to the states from England, where he was stationed. My brother (whose permission to marry his mother, was asked) placed it on her finger.
I love the look on his face when he talks about marrying her. He says there was no woman more beautiful than her. (He is right – she looked like Grace Kelly)
They have been married 38 years. I don't know of many kids who can say that these days.
He began his college days at Marshall University. This would seem normal except I think he was 30, went to class full time during the day and worked full time evening shift at Ashland Oil. I was 3, my brother was 15 and my mother had to deal with ALL of us - full time. He says he would & could have never done it if it weren't for her. I like to think of them, young, as a team; them vs the world. I like to think they won.
I remember him sleeping (when he could) in this little room that was attached to our garage. I’m sure I woke him numerous times hitting tennis balls against the building. I'm sure I didn't say I was sorry. I am.
He graduated Cum Laude four years later.
As an eight year old, I had no idea what it took for him to do that.
Today, it moves me to tears.
We moved to Lexington in 1982 with the Ashland Oil transfer.
The house my parents purchased is where I grew up and will always call “home”.
When I was 8 I joined the swim team at the neighborhood club. When I was 10 (I think) I joined a soccer team. I remember the look on his face when, during soccer practice, I asked if we were playing offense or defense. He looked at me and said “both” and when I looked COMPLETELY confused, he patiently explained it all.
I don't recall winning or losing ever being an issue. Instead I was always asked if I did the best I could do and he was proud regardless.
I don’t recall my dad ever missing a single meet or game.
Well . . . maybe once.
I was on the high school diving team. I remember telling him our meet was in E-town. The meet came and went. I was SO upset because I never spotted his face in the crowd AND he was my ride home. As I exited the building he appeared.
“Where have you BEEN???” I asked, surely with my classic annoyed tone.
“Stephanie,” he asked “WHERE are we?”
My face dropped and my heart raced.
“EKU” I replied.
“And is that E-town?” he asked.
“No. . .” I said, dropping my head.
"Well, howd'ya do tonight?" he asked.
He had driven 85 miles to Elizabethtown (E-town – like I’d told him) only to find out there was NO swim meet there, driven 117 miles back to Eastern Kentucky University (in Richmond, KY) to pick me up, then 27 miles home. It was a LONG 27 miles.
I don’t recall him seeming very upset with me although I think now, I know better.
This is just one story. One story out of hundreds I could tell you. No matter what they are or how they began, they all end the same; with a hug, a kiss and an “I love you.”
Why did I choose THESE things to tell you about my dad?
Because to me, they are examples of his love and devotion to his family, his determination to make his life better so our lives could be better, his patience in raising a daughter, and the honorable way in which he accomplished them all.
He is one of only two people I trust with my world, my life and my unconditional love.
He is unfailing.
He is my hero.
He is so much more than a father; he is all the stuff that comes after.
He is my daddy and I am so proud to be his daughter.
Happy Birthday!
I love you so very much.
Your chick a dee,
Dork-ette.
Monday, November 3, 2008
Dinner Part 2 - and "you say Good-bye and I say Hello"
It had been the better part of a year since I had people over to my home for a dinner. Several new coworkers and others have asked the question, "why do you do all that? Special occasion?"
I know my immediate response was "no, but why not? It's what I like to do."
But I've thought about it.
I know - ME thinking about something comes as a surprise!
I resolve to this answer.
Friends, they are the people you get to choose to surround yourself with. Each of them bring something to your life, each of them have a part of MY life. I love having them near, hearing them laugh, feeling their hugs, listening to their stories and making memories with them.
When these things happen, it makes my soul settle into this amazing happiness - brought on purely by their company.
So the fact that I like to cook and tend to do it well, that Real Simple and Pier One have taught me to create an inviting, warm atmosphere, it just all boils down to being a gift perhaps.
Something I can give to them for ALL they give to me.
My friends
Are Gifts.
This past weekend was ridiculous and is causing me to head to the barn, dust off the wagon, climb aboard and sit there until a horse comes and pulls me away. I should detail out the night but all you need to know was the send-off was done and done well! Now, where is that wagon. . . or right, I need to finish this story. Short term brain cells. . . Heeeeeere short term brain cells. . .
Thursday night. . . man o man Thursday night. Thursday night was my dear friend Jacob's going away party. My liver has fallen at the hands of this man more times than I can't count.
Jacob and I met in 1998 (I think, maybe it was 1999. It IS possible he caused me to lose an entire year!) He was a bartender at a la lucie's and when he moved down the road to Le Deauville, I of course followed. Over the past 10 years he has become one of my dearest friends. TEN years. That's a long time, longer than some marriages.
He's moving to a new town, new people, new job, new everything. I am so excited for him - but the selfish side of me is going to miss walking into that bar, sitting in my seat and having a talk with NOT a bartender, but my friend. Eight hours is a long way to drive for a drink; but a drink with a good friend makes it not seem that bad.
Good friends are hard to come by. When you find them - you never want them to go. No matter how much fun they're going to have.
Fittingly enough, that same evening, I said "hello" to two friends I hadn't seen in almost 1/2 a year.
It made me realize that some things just need to be forgiven and moved past; that hugs can heal better than any spoken words and that if all else fails. . . add wine! (and maybe some tequila!)
Indeed, good friends are hard to come by.
But they are worth the wait.
Friday night. . . well hell, Friday night was the Halloween Party, but this blog has turned out way sappier than I had anticipated so as to not ruin it, I'll write about Friday night - later.
But I will leave you with this!
I know my immediate response was "no, but why not? It's what I like to do."
But I've thought about it.
I know - ME thinking about something comes as a surprise!
I resolve to this answer.
Friends, they are the people you get to choose to surround yourself with. Each of them bring something to your life, each of them have a part of MY life. I love having them near, hearing them laugh, feeling their hugs, listening to their stories and making memories with them.
When these things happen, it makes my soul settle into this amazing happiness - brought on purely by their company.
So the fact that I like to cook and tend to do it well, that Real Simple and Pier One have taught me to create an inviting, warm atmosphere, it just all boils down to being a gift perhaps.
Something I can give to them for ALL they give to me.
My friends
Are Gifts.
This past weekend was ridiculous and is causing me to head to the barn, dust off the wagon, climb aboard and sit there until a horse comes and pulls me away. I should detail out the night but all you need to know was the send-off was done and done well! Now, where is that wagon. . . or right, I need to finish this story. Short term brain cells. . . Heeeeeere short term brain cells. . .
Thursday night. . . man o man Thursday night. Thursday night was my dear friend Jacob's going away party. My liver has fallen at the hands of this man more times than I can't count.
Jacob and I met in 1998 (I think, maybe it was 1999. It IS possible he caused me to lose an entire year!) He was a bartender at a la lucie's and when he moved down the road to Le Deauville, I of course followed. Over the past 10 years he has become one of my dearest friends. TEN years. That's a long time, longer than some marriages.
He's moving to a new town, new people, new job, new everything. I am so excited for him - but the selfish side of me is going to miss walking into that bar, sitting in my seat and having a talk with NOT a bartender, but my friend. Eight hours is a long way to drive for a drink; but a drink with a good friend makes it not seem that bad.
Good friends are hard to come by. When you find them - you never want them to go. No matter how much fun they're going to have.
Fittingly enough, that same evening, I said "hello" to two friends I hadn't seen in almost 1/2 a year.
It made me realize that some things just need to be forgiven and moved past; that hugs can heal better than any spoken words and that if all else fails. . . add wine! (and maybe some tequila!)
Indeed, good friends are hard to come by.
But they are worth the wait.
Friday night. . . well hell, Friday night was the Halloween Party, but this blog has turned out way sappier than I had anticipated so as to not ruin it, I'll write about Friday night - later.
But I will leave you with this!
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