pieces and ponderings

My Aunt Barbara is a huge part of the reason why I enjoy writing.  She is a huge part of why I enjoy many things…funny movies, flying kites, singing silly songs, hot pastrami sandwiches, paintings by Van Gogh, Weimaraners…the list goes on and on.  She has been a huge influence on my life and one of my favorite people.

When I was eight-years-old, I began visiting my grandparents and aunt for two weeks every summer.  It was always a special time.  My aunt was a college English professor and when I visited I would go with my grandfather every day to the college where my aunt taught to pick her up from school…I loved doing that.

My aunt contracted polio when she was a child.  She survived the disease but it left her with no use of her right arm and limited use of her left arm.  The virus had affected her body in other ways too, but none that I would really understand until many years later.  The polio seemed to only slow her down a little from my perspective.  With encouragement from my grandparents, her parents, she learned to do many things.

To me, the fact that my Aunt Barbara’s arms didn’t work was just a part of life.  She let me do things that other grown ups didn’t, like carry her billfold when we went places and take out money to pay for things…that was a big deal to a little girl.

In the early 1970’s my Aunt Barbara received a miracle…a car that she could drive, steering with her feet.  The car had a huge disc in the driver’s side floorboard with a shoe mounted on it.  Aunt Barbara would get into the car, slide her foot into the shoe on the steering disc and off we would go.  I thought it was marvelous…she had to think it was one of the most incredible things ever in the whole wide world!  It gave her a new kind of freedom and she LOVED driving!  My summer visits only got more adventurous now that Aunt Barbara could drive.  We went all kinds of places.

From my earliest memories, my Aunt Barbara has always told the most wonderful stories about the goings-on in her life.  Her stories ALWAYS made me laugh!  Listening to all of her stories made me want to tell stories too…stories to make people laugh.  So she is one of the reasons that I write…to tell stories…to make others laugh…maybe.

My Aunt Barbara reads my blog and that in itself is a blessing…and when she reads what I write she writes her own thoughts back to me.  It’s a circle of writing life that we share…and I am most grateful.

My kids make me laugh…they make me laugh a lot.  Last weekend…during all of the furniture re-arranging (see earlier post)…was one of those times.

This is a cabinet that was moved during the re-arranging.  It belonged to my grandparents…an old-fashioned television cabinet, which housed their first TV.  Later on, when they replaced that first television, my grandmother had shelves made for the cabinet because she liked it so.  I like it too, and have filled the shelves, storing nick-knacks and trays and pictures, etc.

The cabinet was in our dining room, but got moved with the re-arranging.  It’s now in the room where my grandparents’ parlor furniture sits.  I like it there, too.

After children, numbers 1and 3, moved the cabinet; I walked through the room and noticed that child number 1’s kindergarten picture and two of his college debate trophies sat atop the cabinet.  It made me laugh.  His high school senior portrait is also in that room and he calls the room his shrine…so he just added the memorabilia to his shrine, he informed me.

While he was explaining this to me, child number 2 was listening…she cut her eyes at me and I knew what would soon be happening.  When her older brother went back to his room…she headed to get all of her trophies.  The next time I walked through the living room…her awards had replaced her brother’s.

Child number 4 was not to be out-done.  As soon as his older sister’s attention was directed elsewhere, his recently-acquired-math-competition trophy (the biggest trophy in the house) was centered between his sister’s accolades.

When his older siblings realized what had happened there was much laughter and kidding one another.  The trophy shrine has remained the whole week…and has made me smile every time I see it.

“Peace in the land”…that’s what the baby name book listed as the meaning of the name we would give our child number three.  When I looked up name meanings yesterday, I found similar meanings for the name “Jeffrey”:  “gift of peace,” “God’s peace.”

“Peace” is the key word in our son, Jeffrey’s, name meaning…it’s why he bears the name he does.  As I’ve been thinking about him this week with the taking of senior photos and all (see earlier post), I remembered choosing his name.

Child number three is named after his father and his paternal grandfather.  He has three names that come before his last name…two middle names, (which make filling out official documents and forms loads of fun).  But his dad and I felt like this would be a child who could carry all of those names well.  And though he bears reminders of his lineage in family names, we call him by the middle name not handed down from previous generations.

I’ve always liked the name “Jeff.”  I had a childhood friend by that name.  He lived across the street from my grandparents and aunt inVirginia.  He and I spent hours playing outdoors every summer during my two-week stays with my grandparents…pleasant memories.

And when I was all grown up and expecting baby number three, the name “Jeff” was on our list of possible names for our son.  Way back then…when I read the meaning of that name…I knew it was just the right one for our baby.

The time of my pregnancy with child number three, was not a peaceful time in our lives.  After 35 years of marriage, my parents were separated and heading toward divorce.  It was a painful time.  It was like a huge earthquake shook the foundations of my family of origin, ripping it in two.

I longed for peace.  I prayed for peace.  I hoped for peace.  Our son, Jeffrey, would carry with him in his name a promise of peace…a promise that when everything around you is shaking and quaking that God is still there…giving peace…being peace Himself.  “Peace in the land” was the perfect name for our third born.

Many years later, when our family was facing a crisis of another kind, my world being shaken again as my daughter suffered from seizures, “Peace in the land” would step forward again and again with calm steadiness to lend a helping hand wherever might be needed.  It was Jeffrey who called 911 when Amy’s first seizure rocked our world.  And then he called my best friend to ask her to pray.  I was going into shock, but he was calm and steady.

He has grown into his name well, and I am a proud momma.  He continues to be a big reminder to me that God’s peace is always available.  There can be “peace in the land.”

Today was senior picture day…again.  This time it was child number 3’s turn to smile in front of the camera while I looked on.  Of course, child number 3 is perfectly capable of having his pictures made without his mom…but, this mom is NOT capable of child number 3 having his senior portraits made without me.  So just like child number 1 and child number 2 before him, I tagged along.

First was the formal shot…him all dressed up in a tuxedo shirt and jacket, complete with bow tie.  He looked good in the tuxedo top.  He looked very handsome.  He looked grown up.

“He’s a big boy,” commented the photographer as he reached for the bigger sized jacket that hung on the apparel rack.

“Yes,” I nodded in reply.  He is a big fellow.  He’s inching out his 6’ 4” dad in height.  He’s big in more ways than just in physical size.  He has a big heart.  He is big on kindness.  He is big on courteousness. He’s big on thoughtfulness.  He’s big on helping his mom in a myriad of ways.

As child number 3 posed…I reflected.  It’s what I do while my seniors are having their pictures taken.  I think about how the years have flown by.  I think about the ways they resemble their dad or me or a grandparent or a sibling.  I think about the short time ago that I was looking on as child number 1 stood against that wooden fence back-drop.  I remember child number 2’s photo-shoot and the many changes of clothes and the make-up and the hairspray and the four-inch heels that made her look even taller than she is…and the bright eyes that went with her bright smile.

And I thought about this child number 3 that stood before me…the teaser in our family when he was a little boy.  This young man with a wry sense of humor, who teases me incessantly when I do something stupid like spend minutes looking all over the house for the purse that is hanging off my shoulder (that’s the story I reminded him of today to get him to smile for the camera).

That’s why I have to go with my children when it’s time for senior pictures…to make them smile…to watch them all grown up…pose in front of the lights and the camera…to hear the camera’s shutter as it clicks away…catching those whom I’m most proud of, in digital images that will be transformed into portraits that hang on my wall.