Tag Archives: memories

Gypsies – Part 2

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Read gypsies part 1 here.

What can I say about these passport photos? They hold so many memories. Yes, even Grandma’s. I never did travel internationally with Grandma, with the exceptions of a trip to Aruba in the early 1990s and a trip to Ontario during my high school years, but she always supported my endeavors. I still have letters that she and Grandpa wrote to me during my first years at Michigan State. When I spent a semester in Quito, Ecuador, I came home one day to my host mother speaking on the phone in English with Grandma. At the time, I didn’t even know that my host mother spoke English that well! It turned out that she had studied abroad in Wisconsin.

One of my favorite stories took place in 2002 just before I was to leave for Austin, Texas to complete a six month co-op with Applied Materials. First, one has to understand that Texas has always loomed large in my imagination. My grandparents lived in Fort Worth during World War II. On Mom’s side, my great-grandfather spent the last years of his life outside of Houston ranching. Well, I think Grandma could tell I was a bit nervous as I said goodbye for several months. She told me, “You know, they are going to call you a damn Yankee!” Of course, I thought that she was joking. She always joked around. That may have been true in the ‘40s, but the early 21st century? Nah. It turns out the joke was on me.

In the days before GPS everywhere, I stopped at a grocery store to ask for directions to my new apartment complex. Unfortunately, I was lost. As soon as I opened my mouth, the man I had approached joked “Damn Yankee, huh?” and proceeded to laugh at my very Michigan accent. Then, he gave me the correct directions, and I was on my way. Literally the first words I heard in Texas were “damn Yankee.” All in good fun, of course. I ended up falling in love with Texas – Austin in particular – and planned to move there after my graduation from Michigan State. Well, I did move to Houston upon graduation, but frankly, I loathed Houston. It just wasn’t the same without my friends from Austin.

Today I am grateful that I moved back to Michigan. I would have never had those last years with my grandparents. As much as I love to travel, family means too much to me. As I am now a vital part of the future of the canoe livery, there are other considerations as well. Deep down, I always planned to come home, even if I didn’t want to admit it in my 20s.

As for those passport pictures, Grandma’s is one of my favorite pictures of her. During my later high school years, she traveled to Poland with family in order to see where her parents were born. She wanted to see where her parents’ grew up. That is why she ended up getting this passport in the first place. Over the years, she traveled extensively in the Caribbean and the United States. She hadn’t needed a passport since a trip to Brazil in the 1970s. As I waited for her in her car one day outside the canoe livery (we were headed somewhere, of course), I noticed her application for a passport. What struck me then was the names of her parents’ birthplaces. She had had to list the various countries those towns became a part of after World Wars I and II – a miniature lesson in the history of Eastern Europe during almost the entire 20th century – or so it seemed to me at the time. Even though I didn’t fully appreciate it until many years later, I think of the sacrifices my great-grandparents made to come to the United States legally. My great-grandmother was only in her teens at the time. I know what it is like to live in another country for a short period of time, but to never see your home country or parents again? I can’t begin to imagine.

My passport picture in another story entirely. When I see that picture, I think of how naive I was at the time. I can’t help but want to warn my 19 year-old self of the worst she’ll experience abroad – as well as tell her how worth it it all was, how much she will experience, most of it wonderful. I would tell her to not worry about all of the guys she’ll meet – none of them are “the one.” None of them are worth the heartache they will cause. Above all, have fun. Oh, and I would tell her that one day, she will want to teach Spanish. Take the necessary tests! It isn’t that easy to get fluency back once it is lost.

Gypsies – Part 1

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Grandma and me – Michigan State University – 2001

I am not sure when I realized that I love to travel, but I am fairly certain that my love of travel is due, at least in part, to Grandma Reid’s influence.  We were always going somewhere, whether it was a shower, wedding, family reunion, or to call on one of her customers.  She used to pick me up from preschool from time to time, and I would go with her to visit her customers.  She sold women’s clothing for over 40 years.  In fact, Grandma’s career outlived several different women’s clothing companies.  She had a loyal customer base mainly consisting of farm wives and housewives who liked having her come to their homes to show samples and catalogs.  On one such trip, one of her customers gave me a kitten.  I couldn’t keep it at home due to the fact that Mom is allergic.  Instead, the kitten became an outdoor cat at Grandma and Grandpa’s house.  It was during these early childhood years that I became one of her favorite travel companions.


As I became a teenager, I spent my summers working directly with Grandma on a near daily basis at my parents’ canoe livery and campground. Even though Grandma sold the canoe livery to my parents back in 1977, she and Grandpa spent their summers at the canoe livery with us. She is the one who taught me customer service and what it means to run a business. We also had fun. After she passed away, Dad stated in his tribute to her that she was a “big kid at heart.” This could not be more true. I think of all the times we would go for ice cream (she adored ice cream), all the trips to Lutz’s Funland (a local small amusement park long since closed), the putt-putt golfing adventures, the latest movies, and more. She was a big influence in our lives because she wanted to be – and my parents allowed her to be.

After I could drive, and Grandma is the one who taught me how to drive, I would spend long evenings working with Grandma at the canoe livery.  Occasionally, I would spend the night at her home, especially if we had something planned the next day.  In earlier years, I loved spending the night at Grandma and Grandpa’s house due to the fact that Grandma always liked to stay up late.  I have fond childhood memories of watching Johnny Carson with her.  That would never fly at home for several reasons, but I cherish those memories.  Grandpa, like my parents, would go to bed much earlier.  In fact, when I was older and we wouldn’t come home until later in the evening, Grandpa would leave notes for us – his gypsies.  He always addressed us as his gypsies.  I have never forgotten that.  Grandpa Reid, Dad’s step-dad, did not like to travel.  In fact, he was content to stay home and cut wood during the winter or maintain his garden during the summer.  I think that he got a kick out of Grandma and I always being on the go.  I miss them both and think about them daily.

Creative Non-Fiction: Real Life, Only Better

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CNF

This past semester, I spent the last three weeks of my creative writing class studying creative non-fiction.  I looked forward to this part of the course from the beginning.  Even though I didn’t necessarily know the term per se prior to my class, the idea and technique long fascinated me.  It is one of many reasons why I am so intrigued with Laura Ingalls Wilder’s work.  As an adult, I learned that many scenes and even characters in the Little House on the Prairie series were compiled from various people and events from Wilder’s childhood.  For example, Nellie Oleson is actually a compilation of three of Laura Ingalls Wilder’s classmates.  Combining traits to create a more threatening character and condensing the chronology of events just makes for a better story.  This is largely what we do with the stories we tell ourselves anyway.

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I view creative non-fiction as simply getting those stories, the stories we tell ourselves about our past and our world, in writing.  Both of my parents are wonderful storytellers and have this process down, but they rarely commit their stories to writing.  Without adding fictional elements, a straight non-fiction approach to family and personal stories would not have the same impact.  It is an art to get it just right.  The true story cannot be lost in the fiction; at the same time, there are people, places, and events that may need to be stressed or rearranged to make a compelling story.

One of the most surprising ideas that came out of three weeks of studying creative non-fiction is the sheer variety of writing that can fall under the creative non-fiction umbrella.  It can include works addressing personal memories; essays on people, places, and ideas that inspire or fascinate the writer; or exploration of a real event through creative writing.  That is just the beginning.  A writer can take a real event from his or her personal history and explore it through the eyes of someone else.  I’ve also taken a piece of fiction I wrote earlier and expanded on it, explaining what really happened and what inspired the story in the first place.

I now have a home – a label as a writer.  I could never fully say that I write fiction or non-fiction.  Neither label fit.  I now have a name for what I’ve long known:  In order to write about real life well, writing must contain all or most of the elements of fiction.  It is as simple and as complicated as that.  I am ready to explore it all.

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Christmas Memories: Santa is Real

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Several years ago now I decided to write about one of my favorite Christmas memories that also happens to be a favorite birthday memory.  I thought it would share it again this evening.

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The real Santa once came to my birthday party.  About 7 PM he rang the doorbell.  I couldn’t imagine who it could be.  Lee and Elizabeth, Emily and Abby, Danielle and Jennifer, Lois, Lori, Mark, and even my little sister were all there.  In fact, we’d been running around fueled up on pop, pizza, and German chocolate cake, not to mention candy, for the last half hour at least.  As the birthday girl, I wanted to answer the door personally.  I slowly opened the front door only to see Santa in all of red and white glory, big black belt and all.  I couldn’t believe it!  Somehow I must have been a very good girl to receive a personal visit from Santa on my birthday, his busiest time of year, the week before Christmas.

As he settled down to hold court in our formal living room, I looked out the window into our back yard.  Dozens of beautiful whitetail deer!  Deer in my big back yard were not an uncommon sight.  My Dad left the deer a big pile of sugar beets just outside the kitchen window.  We often found little impressions of their nose prints on the French doors in the living room.  But something was different that night.  I had never seen so many deer in my back yard!  They were beautiful playing in the mid-December starlight, their breath hanging in the air.  Magic.

Where were the reindeer?  And Rudolph?  They had to be there.  Why else would all the whitetails come out to play?  It didn’t matter.  I didn’t need any more convincing.  The real Santa somehow knew exactly where Lindsey Jenelle Russell, newly age 7, lived.  At the moment he had her little sister Erica, almost 4, seated on his lap in their very living room.  It was time to get down to business.

It was finally my turn to sit on Santa’s lap.  As Mom and Dad looked on, I whispered in Santa’s ear what I wanted most that Christmas.  I couldn’t help myself.  That year I wanted another Cabbage Patch Kid doll.  I couldn’t get enough of them.  They were cute, they were the perfect size for a dolly, and they even came with their own adoption papers, not to mention great names like Marlena, Isabella, and Crispin.  How could I resist?

After whispering my Christmas wish to Santa I gave him a big hug, a simple way to thank him for coming to my birthday party.  I’m not sure if I remembered my manners and actually said “thank you.”  I hope Santa considered a hug good manners.  How do you say thank you when someone makes your birthday party so special you remember it decades later?  No, “thank you” wasn’t enough.

That Christmas I did get a Cabbage Patch doll.  Maybe Santa is real after all.  Before Santa held court at my birthday party, I’d had my doubts.  Of course, I couldn’t let Erica know.  She was still a Little Kid.  The same Little Kid, of course, who spotted the Tooth Fairy right outside our bedroom window.  My Mom, Dad, and I, much to our amusement, spent a leisurely weekend breakfast listening to Erica describe in detail her beautiful dress, crown, and wand.  I was happy to know that my little sister could dream too.  Big Kids knew that you could never ever catch a glimpse of the Tooth Fairy.  Ever.

Years later I learned Santa’s true identity.  He goes by the name Edwards, and believe it or not, his actual birthday is Christmas day.  He still “plays” Santa from time to time.  As an adult I’ve come to suspect that Mr. Edwards is one of those rare people who truly get the real meaning of Christmas.  He knows it isn’t about toys, gadgets, and money.  It can’t be purchased at the mall.  It is simply creating wonderful memories for children of all ages and spending time with family and friends.  Knowing the truth makes my memories that much sweeter.

Lindsey and Erica

Lindsey and Erica

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Starting Over

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German Chocolate Cake!

German Chocolate Cake!

Today is my 35th birthday.  Over the past several weeks I’ve worked on creating a new blog in the hopes of restarting it today:  December 18th.  Birthdays and holidays have a way of making me reflect on how my life has changed.  When I first moved back to my hometown at the beginning of November 2012, I simply knew that my life needed to change.  I didn’t yet realize how profoundly it would change so quickly.

Over the last few years, blogging took a backseat to dealing with the reality of creating a new life for myself.  After we almost lost my grandma during the winter of 2013, she ended up in a skilled nursing facility nearby.  Unfortunately, she needed much more care than I could give her at that point.  For the first time since 2004, I found myself once again living on my own.

In retrospect, my relationship with Brian should have ended when I moved from Bay City to Omer – or even several years earlier.  Yet, I don’t think either of us were quite ready then.  To this day, we are both too stubborn to admit defeat easily.  In May 2014, we finally faced the inevitable.  While I won’t go into details, it ended in such a way that it was impossible for me to remain friends with him.  I am still working on forgiveness.  The worst part of it all is that I continue to miss his family.  I love his family.  In May it will be two years, and I have yet to date again.  As much as I wish it would at times, a relationship spanning ten years doesn’t just disappear.  You don’t just get that time back.

In 2014, just prior to breaking up with Brian, I lost my Grandma B.  As much as I miss her and love her, I know that she is in a much better place and hopefully with the love of her life, Grandpa.  Out of all of my wonderful grandparents, just my Grandma R. is left.  I still visit her several times a week at the skilled nursing facility where she lives.  It is never easy when in the back of your mind, you still carry around the vision of how things used to be and you are faced with the reality of eventually losing one of the most important people in your life.

One of the biggest changes in my life has to do with my career.  At the end of 2013, at age 33, I made the decision to go back to school to earn my teaching certificate.  Once I complete the program in December 2016, I will be certified to teach middle school and/or high school Spanish and social studies.  The opportunity to go back to school continues to mean the world to me.  In addition to earning my teaching certificate, I decided to earn my writing certificate at a local community college as well.  I just completed my last writing class, and I’ve never enjoyed classes more.

At the end of 2012, my parents decided that they were open to the possibility of my brother and me purchasing their seasonal business, Russell Canoe Livery.  I am happy to say that I’ve spent the last three summers working at the canoe livery and reacquainting myself with a business I’ve loved for as long as I can remember.  It has now reclaimed its rightful place in my life.  I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Looking ahead, 2016 holds so much promise.  In May, my brother and his girlfriend are expecting their second child, a boy who will be name after my grandfathers.  My Dad is finally going to retire and make things official.  After all of these years, I will become a business owner.  Fall 2016 will bring student teaching and an end to my second college career.  I can finally see the end in sight!  It is time that I start to focus on creating the family that I’ve wanted since I was a child.  If that means that I have to adopt as a single woman, so be it.  There is so much that needs to be done before I become a mom.  I’m just glad that nothing is standing in my way after all of these years.

So, what can you expect here?  I’m not quite sure yet, although I doubt most of my new posts will be as personal as this one.  I also plan to focus more on actual writing instead of discussing other websites and blogs, although I may highlight them from time to time.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

Me and Grandma