Sunny Day Musings

How cool is it that in 1958, my mother (who was the middle child) gave birth to me when her brother was 12 years old?

How cool is it that in 2012, my daughter (who is the middle child) will give birth to a son when her brother is 12 years old?

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Speaking of babies, the earthquake hit right after I had learned that my daughter is carrying a boy. She, her husband, and I were in the library of our house after having just watched a few sonogram videos (technology is amazing) showing most definitely the baby has boy parts! We were celebrating and laughing when the rumbling started; a moment of disorientation and confusion and then Anthony said we'd better get outside. We ran like the dickens, ran up the driveway all the way to the street, just to look back at the house and watch the windows continue to shake and shake. Scared the bejesus out of us, but in hind sight, man, that was exhilarating!

I think Mother Nature was so excited for little "Boomer" (as I'm calling him now) that she just wanted to join in the party!!!

And poo on those who say that was nothing or that we should trying living in California! Well, we don't live in California and a trembler of this kind is a big deal here on the East Coast. The magnitude of power and widespread reach was quite amazing.

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Also in relation to the earthquake; how is it that Gary, Elliott, and I could have spent most of the last month or so together 24-7 and the first day home that we are all in separate places, an earthquake hits? Eh? Crazy stuff. Mother Nature must like family closeness.

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My oldest son turned 30 on Monday. When I was pregnant with him, I had huge cravings for watermelon. Couldn't get enough of it.

Today, he wears a watermelon tattoo on his right arm to commemorate me in his life. Even though I'd like to get a tattoo one day, I won't need one to commemorate his birth. That day, that experience, changed me so much and made an indelible impression on my heart. I love you, Kelley, and seeing you so happy in your life brings more joy than I could have ever desired.

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Post-Travel Musings

Besides posting bjillions of pictures, I keep thinking about our trip to Germany. I found myself in the international foods aisle at Wegman's the other day just staring at the German groceries and whining ever so slightly.

How to describe a 37-years-later reunion? I was last in Germany in 1974 for a month; my mother wanted to donate a kidney to her ailing sister and needed to go for that length of time for the testing needed. Sadly, she could not be a donor; I know this broke her heart.

The only thing that comes to mind when we settled in is that it felt like home; I cried when I saw my uncle and I cried again when we had to say goodbye. As the last-living member of my mother's generation, his presence is hugely important in the family structure.

Why did it take so long to get back there? I don't know. I've mentioned fear as a reason, maybe lack of money a long while back, wondering whether it was the right thing to do. I have no doubts now; I should have done it years ago, but like anything that you should do, you have to be ready to do it and with your heart and mind in the right place. I offer that I am a slow learner, but we did finally make it happen and it was the best trip of my life.

Now I've had some awesome trips before, so that is saying a lot, but this one not only covered going to another country, but was also my work in processing who I was, who I am, and who I am going to be. Losing my mother 30 years ago was something I still had to work on in my mind; meeting the reality of that loss in seeing my uncle surprisingly healed a big part of my heart.

I feel sad for myself, but think of his losses, too; his two beloved sisters, a great brother-in-law, both parents, a grandmother he grew up with. And yet he's still chugging along, inadvertently showing me that that is just what you do.

I loved being with my uncle. Seriously organized, he made a travel plan that squeezed more into two weeks than most folks can do in a month. He knew what I wanted and he made it happen. Organization and planning like that is a skill--I might have a little of that and it was so cool to see where it might have come from. His and my aunt's apartment and house are that way, too; not too much stuff and everything has its place. Love it. Kind of a shock coming home to my place, which, even though not stuffed to the gills, could surely take a good tip to the side and seeing what falls out.

One day we visited the graves of those who have gone on and it was a somber moment in our travels. But graveyards in Europe are different and while you can feel sad, the flowers and plantings and sculptures lift you up in a spiritual way that cannot be ignored. We put in flowers for my grandmother, grandfather and great-grandmother and then planted more at the Meier plot where my aunt and uncle have been laid to rest. I worked the dirt with bare hands, placing a living memorial to those we've lost.

We met new cousins and new friends (I've adopted one as an honorary Uncle), strangers helped us find my birthplace (literally, the ROOM in which I was born--so cool), and Gary also had a family reunion with cousins he had known in Israel on the kibbutz and cousins he had never met before. We both have grown so much with this trip.

We went to Dachau and mourned those who were murdered there; we visited castles and laughed at the brilliant kings who, with a bit of power and money, were considered mad (reminds me a bit of Michael Jackson, except that King Ludwig never had a child that he could dangle over a royal balcony); we visited a small village bakery where we were treated like royalty (I can still taste that fresh plum cake!); we sailed below the Zugspitze and marveled in its grandeur.

We saw and tasted and immersed ourselves for two lovely, wondrous weeks into a society that was new, but felt so right.

So thankful my partner in life felt the same need that I did to make this connection; it is those threads of relationship that keep this family quilt strong and tight.