Ninety for 90

My Aunt Addie is turning 90 in April. To celebrate this milestone, her kids arranged for each of the 90 days preceding her birthday to be marked with a unique gesture of love from one of her kin. I am one of the privileged members of my extended family to be invited to do so – and I say privileged because 1) I adore her and 2) there are waaayyy more than 90 people in my family to choose from. We are a proper and prolific Irish clan.

Aunt Addie has always been on short my list of people who I want to be when I grow up. My earliest memories of her involve big family gatherings in Madison, Nebraska, and how she and my Aunt Helen were in the center of it all, coordinating the feeding, caring and oversight and sleeping arrangements of a ton of hungry cousins.

In addition to raising large families, they were both nurses. I remember how competently and efficiently they managed the day when their mother (my Grandma McGill) had a stroke. I was in my early teens and pretty honked about not being able to play the cool organ Aunt Addie had in her house because they were trying to keep things quiet for Grandma. (Sorry, Grandma.) Once, my younger brother Steve was with her in a restaurant and they ordered coffee. When the waitress poured and Aunt Addie took a sip, the war-horse nurse in her came out when she said, “Oh, I could VOID coffee warmer than this.” I think Steve spit his out when she said that, but it was such typical stuff from her. Aunt Addie kicks ass. A few years ago she went to see my Dad in the hospital. He was whining about wanting to go home. Once approved, she put him in her car and took him back to his assisted living facility, got out her walker and made the long trip to his room with him, got him settled and adjusted his catheter, grabbed her walker and made the long trek back to her car. (She later told one of my siblings that she wished his room was closer to the entrance.)

Aunt Addie was widowed early, but she pushed right on and maintained. She was the first one in the car for a trip to the casino, and still is – she loves to gamble. She makes it to family events, keeps track of who was who and does it all with astonishing humor and good grace. One of the best parts of going home to see my family is a trip to Madison to see her. I could sit at her kitchen table and listen to her for hours. She radiates wisdom, humor and good times.

My most precious memory of her is when Mom was in the hospital /hospice with pancreatic cancer. They cousins brought her out to Lexington so she could see her sister one more time and I was sitting in Mom’s room when Addie arrived. Mom was pretty narc’d up at that point, but when Addie came in she raised her arms and thickly murmured, “Oh AAahhhdiiiee.” Addie sat on the bed and held her little sister and talked to her, touched her face and the love was so unabashed and naked I had to look away. I’ve never witnessed such strength in my life. I weep now as I am writing this, remembering her grace, how she didn’t lose it, she didn’t cry, she just poured out such love and kindness and goodness. I’m sure she cried a river of tears later, but those last moments they had together were spectacularly beautiful. We should all be so lucky.

Back to the matter at hand – what am I going to do for my “Ninety for 90″? I thought about doing several different things, but many have already been done. She’s had cakes, pies, flowers, phone calls. Chicago White Sox memorabilia, gift cards, lunches and dinner out – all kinds of great stuff. Since the economy is sour, one person minted her a trillion-dollar bill . She took it to the Senior Citizens lunch and presented it to pay for her meal. (They didn’t have enough change.) Oh, and did I mention she is hand writing proper thank you notes to each of us for her gifts? She is grace personified. Wish her a happy birthday!

 

To Tree or Not to Tree – Update

This past January I reflected on not having put up a Christmas tree for the past 10 years,  ( To Tree or Not to Tree ) so I thought I should begin the holiday season with a happy update.

We have a tree!

It’s a small one, but it’s lovely and full and vintage and smells sooooo good!  It takes up gallons of water and sheds needles and tinsel every time I come near it so it’s perfect. Wait – TINSEL?  Oh yes, I did the tinsel thing. I bought it as a joke – the packages were $1 – but when I finished trimming the tree in those lovely vintage 40′s and 50′s ornaments I thought, “What the hell – try a little!”  Well, a little became a little more and while it does not look like the tinsel fairy threw up on the tree, it is tinseled and it looks wonderful.   Normally I loathe the stuff but for some unknown reason this year it just seemed… right.

When I come downstairs in the morning and saunter into the family room with my coffee and my iPad,  I smell the tree’s fragrance and I smile. I sip coffee and unlock the Angry Birds Seasons episode of the day and look at my tree and feel peaceful. Evenings are good, too, with the teeny blue tree lights that make the silver tinsel look blueish. It soothes me to see that icy blue in winter because it brings back a favorite childhood memory.

While driving home from a visit to Grandpa and Grandma Major, the sub-zero cold of a Nebraska night made for a spectacular, star filled sky. The clear, dark sky made the white snowy fields turn a kind of blueish tint.  It was like a fairyland, and to a young girl at Christmas it was magical. Everyone else would fall asleep, Dad would be driving at breakneck speed (it was legal then) and I would ask him to keep making the headlights change from dim to bright – and he could do it with no hands!  I though he was a genius – little did I know the button to toggle  the bright headlights was on the floor by the brake. I thought he was magic. The night landscape was enchanting. Such a simple thing, but I have remembered it – vividly – my entire life.

Many, many years later I was driving around Gloucester looking at Christmas lights, feeling homesick and miserable. Then I saw it – a big house with a massive front lawn lit entirely by….blue lights.  The snowy front lawn had that same blueish tint. I pulled over, got out of my car and snuck around the hedge and just stared at the whole scene. (It was very late, no one was up.)  I got a little weepy.  Happy weepy. I felt better.  I got back in my car and went home. *

I’m one of the fortunate few who aren’t driven to distraction by the holiday shopping  and the stress of holiday cooking.  I love to cook – so does my husband – and we really have limited resources so gift buying is at a bare minimum.  It’s very liberating to take such control over the holiday madness. It is a gift unto itself. Light those Advent candles and enjoy every ritual of the season.  I truly am, for the first time in many years.

*Happy Update #2 – I later met the owner of that house and he has since become one of my dearest friends. He still puts up the blue lights but now I enjoy them with a cocktail in my hand beside a roaring fire – he is also a kindred, pyromaniac soul.  Every year, every time – it’s magical.

The Quest for Unscented Anything

A few weeks ago we celebrated Joe’s milestone birthday with an outdoor party.  I really enjoy using my nice linens and vintage pitchers and containers for vases and candles.  I think it makes the party more personal when you celebrate it with things that are special to you. The problem came when I went in search of candles for the centerpieces. I love me some fire on the table and usually have a formidable stash of candles but alas, I had apparently (and literally)  burned through my supply. No probs, I thought, I’ll just pick up some more.

NOT.

Do you have any idea how hard it is to find unscented candles?  I’m talking about pillar candles here, not a wimpy tea light or formal tapers (I always have those) – I wanted a nice, sturdy candle that would burn for hours. (Hey, my friends are 1) thirsty and 2) big talkers.) We have long, luxurious “dinner in Italy” style meals.  It’s the BEST.  Anyway, I burned a lot of time and gasoline in my quest and came up with butkus.  I was more than annoyed – I was ticked off.  Really folks, do you want to smell “woodsy pine” or “cinnamon apple” when you are eating dinner?  No.  Why is everything SCENTED?  Why do people buy home deodorizers that run continuously and make their houses smell like a powder room?  Why not save the money and spend a little time finding the source of what is making your house smell so bad that you need to install a 24/7 deodorizer?  Jimmy Hoffa’s body has to be somewhere, right?

Admittedly, my pale Irish skin is oversensitive to scented lotions and products. So is my pale Irish nose. I am on a quest to locate a lifetime supply of Dove unscented deodorant. I loved it and can no longer find it among the 24 varieties they now offer.  Really, Dove?  I used to love your unscented body wash and you had to mess with that, too.  You used to be the industry standard for not-crapping-up-products-with-cloying-fragrance.  If I try a new a shampoo or hairspray and I love the results  it still goes right into the trash if the scent is cloying and overpowering.  I smell it ALL DAY LONG. 

Back to the candles.  I solved my dilemma at the grocery store.  No, they did not carry unscented candles.  They did carry Yahrzeit candles and I could not believe I didn’t think of it sooner. ( I spent 4 years as a nanny for a Jewish family where I learned about the tradition of burning that candle on the anniversary of the death of a loved one.  Always loved the idea.) I bought six of them and took them home to put in the arrangements.

The finished product was lovely – I grouped them on the smaller table the next morning and we had a lovely, private brunch. (We were house sitting.) Of course we honored the intent of the Yahrzeit candle.  We lit six candles – three for Joe’s mother, father, and his only brother who have gone before us.  We lit two for my parents, also gone before us. We lit the final one for the pregnancy we had that didn’t make it all the way to the finish line.  While we wanted all of those souls to be present it was simply not possible. We  took comfort in the fact that we were able to remember them with such deep love and light – and so privately,  just between the two of us.

It was a wonderful evening and the candles burned blissfully unscented long into the night. We shared memories, gave speeches, talked about the people we love and gave thanks for the people in our lives, living or not-so-living.  Joe had me in tears when he talked about the “luckiest day in his life, July 4, 1987.”  (The day we met.)  How wonderful is that? I love happy endings.