Another Auspicious Date: July 5, 2009

Had my father not passed away in 1995, today would have been my parents' 50^th wedding anniversary. Of course, I so wish our family and friends had spent the day (or the weekend) celebrating such a wonderful occasion. I'm not sure what the weather in Boca Raton is in July though! My mother, not the "Boca type," was a tiny bit relieved that Dad died before he got around to moving them to Florida but I know that she'd rather be living in Florida with him now than here without him. I miss him and I miss them together too. That's life though, isn't it?

I can still vividly remember the 50^th anniversary weekend celebration for my mother's parents (I think I was 7). Distant relatives I had not seen before and have not seen since descended upon Nashville from all over the place. The weekend was joyous. It was part family reunion and an occasion to eat, drink, laugh and celebrate a wonderful couple reaching a wonderful milestone. My young mind remembers most strongly the feeling of love and family that permeated the weekend.

The Family in January 2007, at my Uncle Murray's 80th Birthday Party.

Click the link below and to the left to continue reading this post - the parts about the hitchhiking hippie cousin and the red-leisure suit cousin are worth it.  

That same young mind also still remembers some weird bits and pieces from that weekend in detail. For instance, there was her hippie cousin Toby from Berkeley who hitchhiked his way to Nashville. He had Fotomat develop some pictures he took on his way across the county. Suffice it to say; when I got older, I realized what was going on in those pictures and why some adult had snagged them so quickly from my hands! I cannot recall the name of that adult but he was another "distant cousin" and I remember two other things about him – his red, denim-looking, double-knit leisure suit that I think he wore all weekend and his major Jew-fro. He wasn't quite on the hippie end of the spectrum though. My memory of him makes me think of what I imagine the start of the disco era was like. I remember male relatives of all ages heads turning every single time my mom's first cousin's Swedish (I think) blonde, beautiful nanny wearing the skintight black one-piece bodysuit thing with a v-neck down to about the bottom of her rib cage the night of the party at our house.

One mental image from that weekend may actually have scarred me for life! It still disturbs my mind's eye to remember yet another distant relative who was nursing a child old enough to walk over to her and ask for her boob! This same relative also published a book about childbirth and gave my mother a copy. I've no idea how old I was when I finally picked that book off the shelf and started to read it. Luckily, my Mom walked in the room just in time to snatch it from my hands and tell me that I really did NOT want to read that book! It disappeared from the house after that but has always fueled my "ignorance is bliss" attitude about pregnancy and childbirth. I shudder to this day.

All of this 50^th milestone business got me thinking. Unlike our parents and their parents, Tim and I married in middle age and the likelihood of celebrating 50 years of wedded bliss is conceivable but improbable. I can just imagine Tim at 99 and me at 92. That is stuff of comedy, ooohhh and animation ala UP. Does anyone have Pixar's phone number?

I hope this reads well – my editing was sparse. I blame the "MS is good days and bad days" situation. I hope those who read these words realize that I aim for way more good days than mad (typo worth leaving!) bad. No matter how hard I try to think they will all be good, a few of the bad ones will sneak up and stab me somewhere! Most of the time when something hurts, it feels like being poked or stabbed from the inside. We called them "the stabbies." They come, they go, and I am lucky that they usually either don't hurt that bad or don't stay around long.

This time, the stabbies chose the left, upper and forward quadrant of my head. So, July 5, 2009 is not one of the good days. What I thought last week was just a side effect of the interferon (aka the "interferon hangover") is apparently something else. I wrote this post long hand and simply transcribed it and ran it through spell check since the monitor hurts my head. I am apologizing now for any grammatical errors, bad spelling or "word salad" you just muddled through. I sincerely thank you for sticking with it though. I hope you had a lovely weekend (lovely, two posts in a row about love, pun, bad but I can't help it!)

SMILE even if your head hurts too, even if it is just a short, fake smile. Sometimes when I do that, it helps me.

PS:  BTW - the hitchhiking hippie cousin is one I've stayed slightly in touch with and he, his documentary filmmaking wife and their smart as a whip son still live in Berkely and are lovely people!