It’s A Wrap!…

July 2, 2017

My lifelong friend has a birthday shortly and yesterday the perfect gifts showed themselves while shopping. Deciding to wrap them I was reminded of how I sang a note of joy when gift bags came to market. I’m famously known for my wrapping skills. I say I wrap like my grandmother. On one occasion I heard my mother comment, ” You can always tell when a gift has been wrapped by Nanny (her mother). It wasn’t said in a disdainful manner, but rather an endearing one. Seems she was a bit off of perfection, unlike my mother, who would wrap a present that still leaves me wondering what happened to THAT gene where I’m concerned…

I’ve decided I’m a freestyle wrapper. It’s my signature just like my grandmother.

Maybe it will bring a smile to family and friends when they think of me should I depart this world before them.

but never had the benefits as his child. I never once ate a meal, received a good night kiss, awoke to him being ‘home’ with me in the morning, or even shared a bathroom under the same roof. I can count the items my father personally bought me on one hand and still have one digit left. One blue bicycle with training wheels, a wooden skateboard with an inlay of red writing, a brown coat and matching pair of shoes. The bike and skateboard were for my birthday, the coat and shoes for school.

I remember standing in line when he purchased the latter items and having this terrible sense of embarrassment. Although not understanding why  I felt this,  I called, ‘Daddy, Daddy’, to tell him he didn’t have to buy them. I did not feel right, his spending money on me. Unable to get his attention with my soft child voice, the items laid on the counter and were soon in the Magic Mart sack.

When he took me to Sears and Roebuck for my bike and skateboard there was no shame or guilt, as I was younger say, six or seven. The purchase of the coat and shoes, I was probably eight or nine.

There were no family pictures, no holidays, no weekend excursions with my father. An occasional drive to the local dairy bar for a chilidog, malt, and dip cone was usually it. I do remember one time me, my brother, mother, and father going to an eat- in hamburger place. It was the only time all four of us were together out in public. I still hold that in my mind to this day. I was so overjoyed I didn’t know  what to do.

He was a distant figure who showed up at various times and would stare down at me through the screen door with a smile and a low voice. The last time I saw my father was when I was in high school. He came by and I showed him the console stereo my youngest aunt had bought me for my high school graduation. I remember we talked a bit, maybe about after high school…I don’t really remember the exact conversation. I do seem to recall him telling me something I had heard him say when I was younger, “Always remember that you are just as good as anybody else.” I didn’t fully realize what impact those words held coming from him at the time. I now do.

My next contact with my father was seeing his name in the obituary section of the local paper. I know he thought about me, because three or four months before he died he was strong on my mind. At age twenty-six I hadn’t thought to look up an out of town telephone number.

Even in death, my name was nowhere mentioned as being his daughter.

My father was gone. I never really knew him, yet I had worn his name. I have a few memories, I carry his blood, and I had none of the benefits of being his child.

again  on this terra firma will I hear my mother’s voice call my name. When I enter a room she will not be there to fix her small blue eyes upon me, waiting for her standard kiss and hug, with “Whatcha’ doin’ Ma?” or “Hi Ma!” …

Tomorrow would be her ninety-fifth birthday.

I have white flowers for her grave. She would like that.

I love you Ma. Happy 95th Birthday.

August 26, 2010

August 26, 2010

I’m older and dumber. My birthday has now passed and I’m on the other side of youth. In reality, I’m on the far side of it. The weather is cooler today, so maybe my previous post was heard as a cry for relief. Lots of sunshine with low humidity sounds wonderful. I do like hot weather, it’s just that for whatever reason, I’ve had a a really hard time with it this year. Perhaps my aging…

Well, I’m starting to sketch daily. Got the idea from an article I read where this young woman is doing a 365 day project with sewing. I thought it was a good idea and will do it with my art. Words and art…two things I enjoy. Oh, my youngest son bought me a sewing machine. I’m going to be getting myself an easy pattern and venturing out into the sewing circle very shortly. I know this one thing for sure. I enjoy working with my hands and I’m a very visual oriented person. I remember as a six year old at school, staring at the art pictures that were on these room dividers in our makeshift gym class. While standing in line for the trampoline I would stare intently into the prints. The one I remember the most was one of the little boy who had on blue clothing and pink cheeks. I would get right up to it and search and search the picture. I also remember looking at our living room walls at home and thinking how much better they would look if they were painted a different color. Six years old and already with decorating ideas.