Monday, June 18, 2007


Daughter Jeana recently posted about a short conversation we had about when she was a kid. This past weekend I had the opportunity to have conversations with all our kids and grandkids, as the 15 of us spent a weekend together.

Me: A-man, isn't that a lot of gum?
A-man: (as he reels off about a yard of bubble gum, and wads it into his mouth) Nope. I don't think so.

Less than five minutes later I saw him spitting it into the trash can. I asked why.
A-man, grinning: All the flavor was gone.

Playing Monopoly with Lolly and Big D--
Me: Is this a hard game to play?
Lolly: No, only if you have trouble counting money.
Big D: I want to sell this! (waving a title to one of the properties) Who wants to buy it? I need some money!
Me: How much?
Big D: Oh, um, just, only about five hundred eleven and twenty dollars.

Pie (age 15): But why can't I get on the computer? I was only on it about 4 and a half hours yesterday! This is borrrrrrrrrrrrrrring! Why do I have to spend time with family?
Me: Come sit here in my lap in the rocking chair.
Pie is tall, athletic, a premier soccer player, and still Mimi's baby girl. She sat, I rocked, and we talked. Five minutes later, she was talking about the possibility of bringing a friend and spending a few days with us at our lake place. We rocked and talked for fifteen or twenty minutes, as I savored these moments of holding her close again.

Lolly, Sunshine, and Buddy spent considerable time with us at the card table, learning to play Pitch. Pitch is a card game intensely and competitively played by my husband's family, but I have never known anyone else who plays it. Learning to play Pitch was part of growing up for our kids, and being allowed to play with the "grownups" was a rite of passage. Sunshine and Katoushka jumped right in, and show promise. Buddy, who is wonderful at playing with and entertaining the younger ones with endless patience, gave up quickly on the card game, and I think went fishing in the rain. He did teach me to play War, and beat me utterly.

Conversations with our adult children ranged from serious to silly, staying up until 3 a.m. one night just talking, in between cooking, cleaning up, playing cards and board games, listening to the girls play the piano, telling family stories, and celebrating being a family.

In Jeana's post, she asks how I could "stand to listen to me go on and on like that? Didn't you just want to scream?"

No, I never wanted to scream. The sound of my child's voice....the sounds of my grandchildren's voices...knowing that they still want to talk to me....that's music to my ears--and to my heart.