Today is Mom’s 92nd birthday.  Mom was pretty low-key when it came to birthdays; definitely the low maintenance sort. Birthdays were not about gift giving, they were about appreciating the person, about thankfulness, and about sharing time together. In later life, Mom’s idea of a celebrating a birthday was to go out to dinner especially if she got to pay the bill.  Mom was always careful to leave an extravagant tip because she evidently believed that the wait staff was overworked, underpaid, and underappreciated.  Growing up, however, birthdays were always observed in the same way.  A few gifts would be given to the child pending the family’s financial situation at the time and the day’s proximity to Christmas.  I’m sure that Tim and Debbie developed a much different concept of birthdays than did Will.  For Paul and myself, birthdays were decidedly bittersweet as they coincided with the beginning of the school year.  For me, at least, I had a hard time looking forward to Septembers.  No matter whose birthday, Mom would endeavor to prepare whatever meal the birthday child thought was their favorite at the time.  She always baked the type of cake and served whatever type of ice-cream requested.  Once, I requested pound cake (still my favorite) and spumoni (who knows why I chose that?).  With its odd color, pieces of cherry, and taste of almond extract, the ice cream did not taste as good as I had hoped, but there was no way I could make such and admission.

The last two birthdays we got to spend with Mom were here in Upland.  For her 90th, we had dinner atAcapulco with Tim’s family and Colleen’s family.  Mom was still able to get around using a wheel chair.  She thoroughly enjoyed the event, and true to form, took a box home with the half of her dinner that she would not eat because she liked the leftovers.  Last year, Mom was not able to get around, so the party came to her.  Our cousin, and Mom’s niece, Jane and her son Tim, surprised Mom at her bedside.  Tim’s family and Debbie were also with us.  In her last months, Mom spoke often of how happy that little party made her feel. 

Tom

1. When I was seven I asked Mom, “Who do you love the most?”  I don’t remember the situation.  It was probably a self-centered question – I was trying to figure out where I fit into the puzzle amongst four other siblings, aged about two to nine.  However, I do remember her answer:  “I love God first, your father second, and you kids third.”  It wasn’t the answer I’d intended but it was surprisingly satisfying nonetheless.  And I think that wasn’t just her creed, it was her M.O.  She had her gaze fixed on God and wasn’t encumbered with brooding about her own failings or the failings of those around her.  (Hebrews 12:1-2)  A couple results of this focus were:  (1) when she was upset with me about something, she dealt with the issue at hand and didn’t dredge up past transgressions (though there was plenty of material on hand had she been so inclined); and (2) I cannot remember her ever speaking evil of anyone.  Her gaze was elsewhere so she didn’t harbor bitter thoughts about anyone.

2. In the early grades I dreaded going to school.  I envied the dog because she got to stay home.  I missed something like 30 days during third grade.  Then one day I heard someone say, “It’s all in your head.”  He wasn’t talking to me, in fact it may have been someone on TV, but I appropriated that and decided my dread of school was all in my head and I could change my mind.  From fourth grade on I had almost perfect attendance.  Another thing that happened about that time was I started going home for lunch, and that may have been as important.  What a break, to have something to look forward to and then get away in the middle of the day.  And it seems like the menu got better as the week progressed.  On Friday it could be:  tuna sandwich on wheat bread, Campbell’s vegetable beef soup, a pile of Fritos and a glass of chocolate milk.  Oh yeah!  Of course Mom was behind it, and I think this is an example of her kindness.  She wasn’t just generally kind, but customized her kindnesses to particular people and what would really bless them.

3. When we took an interest in something Mom would take our interest in it seriously, even if the thing were somewhat trivial and not likely to lead to remunerative employment.  When I was a teenager I listened to baseball games on the radio and “kept book.”  Hundreds of games in some years, in fact in ’74 I scored every Dodger game including playoffs and World Series.  One summer evening I was scoring a game (what else?) when Mom needed me to fetch one of my younger brothers from a friend’s house, as it was already dark.  When we returned home I found Mom had taken a sheet of paper and wrote a narrative of what she thought had happened – including commercial messages – so I could fill in the at-bats I’d missed.  Her account was almost completely useless for that, but I was impressed that she had tried.  And amused as well; I looked at her, she looked at me and we started laughing.

Decades later I visited her in Leisure World and spied an official baseball scorebook sitting close to her sofa.  I opened it and saw she had been scoring Angel games!  Another thing Mom exemplified:  you’re never too old to learn something new.

If we could keep book on Mom’s character, I think an apt notation would be what Jerry Coleman used to exclaim upon witnessing a rare gem in the field:  “You can hang a star on that one‼”  Mom, until we meet again, shine forth.  (Matthew 13:43)

When I graduated from high school in 2011, Grandma sent me a hand-written note and a small plastic pouch holding a tiny, carefully preserved yellow leaf. I've kept the note and leaf, both of which are very special to me. I'd like to share the note. It reminds me of how thoughtful, loving, creative, whimsical, and wise Grandma was. She saw beauty in simple things, put others before herself, and always had a poem, joke, or story to share.

"Dear Christina, 

A few summers ago it was my very great pleasure to be included on your family tour of places on the East Coast. 

On the day you and your mom and dad took a brief walk around one of our great universities, I waited in the car and contemplated the day you would finish high school and set out on a college adventure. As I mused a warm wind blew a little yellow leaf against the windshield, half under one of the wipers. I retrieved it, and saved it, thinking my own fanciful thoughts about how blessed we are with beautiful and wondrous things God has provided for us.

I am sending you the leaf.

If I were a tree (like the one 'who lifts her leafy arms to pray') I would like to imagine that one of my leaves left me one day and found its way to the hand of a young lady on her way to college; that she would hear the whisper that she is God's creation as all living things are; that it comes with prayers and much love.

Grandma J."

(I still can't believe she saved that little leaf for almost five years!)

I am so grateful for my memories of Grandma and for the times we spent together. 

 

I have fond memories of visiting Grandma and Grandpa (and Tim, when he still lived with them) at their house in El Toro, CA. Things usually went like this: We'd walk up to the door and Grandpa would greet me, "Hi Sugar," or "Hello Precious," with his Georgia accent. I'd go immediately to the couch, behind which was hidden an orange bucket (the size you might use to wash a car) filled with trinkets (little toys, coloring books, candy, etc.) that Grandma had collected for me. I always looked forward to finding the bucket and discovering the treasures it held. (That tradition ended when I was about six years old when Tim brought the toy-filled bucket--which included a Donald Duck toothbrush--to our house during one of his visits.) Usually Grandma was still at work when we arrived, so Tim would take me with him to the market to buy snacks. He established a tradition of buying me a grape soda, which was a real treat. (In those days, you could remove a single can from the six pack). Sometimes we'd drive over to the railroad tracks to see the dang-dangs, which as I understand are now virtually extinct. We'd drive back to Grandma's house and play hockey in the garage (Tim made me my own right-sized hockey stick) and I'd inevitably commit a penalty and be placed in the penalty box. We'd read books together, or play with Lady (the dog), who was amazingly intelligent (at least I thought so). Grandma would arrive home and dinner would be prepped and served. I remember eating with the family at the dinner table, while Grandma and Grandpa ate in the living room (probably because there as no room for two more chairs in the dining room). Then we'd have dessert on her square china plates...usually something involving cake and ice cream if I remember right.

Those were certainly good times. But the times I was fortunate enough to spend with Grandma over the past decade or so, as an adult, were even more special. I feel like I really got to know her and appreciate her for the thoughtful, kind-hearted, beautiful, creative, sharp-minded, and insightful person she was. Grandma was someone who saw the good in everyone, and always assumed the best of intentions. Even when she was suffering, she saw the silver lining in the cloud-- always a smile on her face. I am inspired by her devotion to her family, to always learning (no matter how old), and to truly experiencing and savoring the salient moments of life. I feel so fortunate to have been blessed with as much time as I had to know her and love her.