The Cousins Project: Young Deb

Deb: McGrath Family Picnics And Weddings! Featuring a 20-something Deb.

Dancing with my adored Uncle Alex-Kind of looks like I am doing the Elaine!

The Cousins Project Continued

Deb: Some highlights from my summer project which I am enthralled with: The Cousin's Project.

Deb and Cousin Linda, farmer's fence, Bel Air beach circa 56

Wee Deb Walking

Mom and Deb, Quebec City, 1955

Deb, Linda, Pam and Scott, circa 1959

Mom, Dad and a gang of friends, 40's

Highchair Deb circa 1955

Dad and Deb in Quebec City circa 1955

Mom and her best friend Ruth, late forties. Mom on right with dark tan!

Wee Deb in the bouncy chair-circa 1954

Dad and I in Newfoundland in the 50's

Dad, Canadian Army reserves

The Cousins Project

Deb: Nostalgia has been burning bright in my heart these last weeks and so I decided to start something called The Cousins Project where I go through all of my Mum and Dad’s photo albums, scan old photos, and share them on Facebook. We are a very large family on both sides and I wanted to reach out to as many family and friends as I could. It is a very therapeutic project.

Me, Granny, Grampa, Mike Munro Pro Golfer and Linda.

I cannot tell you what joy I have found in it. I’ve placed the scanner on the table where Colin and I work and have vowed to leave it there until the project is done. Some days I scan forty pictures, some days one. I am putting no pressure on myself and I am putting them out there as the albums present themselves to me in random fashion. The idea came to me because whenever I am at Mum and Dad’s looking for a particular photo, they pour through the albums I have pulled down from the shelves as if seeing them for the first time. Most of the time the albums are up on shelves collecting dust.  So I had the idea to make them each a single manageable album featuring the greatest hits of their lives! That way they can keep the album on hand and pour over it every single day if they wish. It will feature the best of their lives, young and old, right up to present day. It will be filled with everything from old friends to grown grandchildren. And I know it will fill them with loving thoughts, every time they crack open the cover. I will slightly custom it for each of them to include their individual and shared favourite moments and friends.

Pammy's birthday with Pam with her lovely toothy smile, baby Jennifer, Linda, and a little girl I recognize so much but cannot place with a name. Anyone????

When I started pouring through the photos with their dated, labeled, white-serrated edges, I found myself enthralled with the images of loved ones that we have lost and the long ago shots of babies who now have children and grandchildren of their own. I knew I had to share them. The pictures themselves are not always the best quality and some of them are literally fading away, loaded into my computer just in time to save part of the faint image. Some are out of focus and have heads cut off, which has long been a particular talent of my Dad’s. But wow, the emotions they evoked.

Auntie Isabel dancing with Dad. I know it doesn't look like it, but they really liked each other! :-)
Dad's black eye courtesy of my giant baby noggin konking him in eye. 

I knew that others in the family would love to see these treasures and that’s when The Cousins Project was born. I put the photos on Facebook as I could think of no other way to reach all the cousins in a broad and timely manner. The only drawback I could see was that all my FB friends who are not in my family would have to endure the stream of pictures all summer long. But I was so happy to see that many of my FB friends seem to enjoy this glimpse into the past, even though it is not their past. Myself, I love to see old shots on people’s profiles and as it turns out, I am not the only one who loves this. So that happy fact has made me feel less guilty about bombarding FB with my past!  And the very best part is that the cousins are loving it. We are all walking down memory lane together, hand in virtual hand, seeing ourselves as babies, growing up together as friends united by family ties.

Uncle Don doting on newborn Mark. Lovely shot. 

So far I have only reached out to half of my family—the Munro clan. I have no one from the McGrath clan on Facebook, but I have reached out to cousins on that side and I am about to launch Cousins Phase Two.

There have been so many special moments in this project so far. Because the photos have been trapped in albums, I have never in my life seen the backs of them. These special little treasures have included wonderful notes on the backs of many of the photos, written from mother to mother, sister to sister, friend to friend. At the end of the project I will mail hard copies of any special shots to the cousins who want them.

I found that I really needed a project of the heart right now in my life. Something wonderful and out of the ordinary. I worried that it might be a melancholy venture, but as it turned out it was anything but. Scanning all the faces of those we lost too soon and those we lost in old age was not sad at all. The sadness has given way to a warm wash of memories. Sweet sweet memories that are growing and building with every photo remembered. And as each cousin adds a comment and a memory to the project, I am reminded of our oh so many shared experiences. And although we don’t see each other often, The Cousins Project is bringing us together in the present, as we remember fondly our past.

And beautiful baby Deb!!!
(adjective and exclamation marks courtesy of Barbara :) )

Barbara: As one of your friends who is also a FB friend, I can add my voice to the chorus of approval for having this access to your sweet old photos! I just LOVE seeing these. I can’t say why, given that they aren’t my family, but I just gravitate to these images, wanting to delve into that moment in a photo and then that one in another, maybe seeing a little deeper into your life by glimpsing your past.

I love old photos, but haven’t found this kind of commitment myself. Photos are still kind of willy-nilly throughout here. But this makes me really want to scan to keep them. And also to get my hands on old photos from my parents to add to my collection. I think it is a lovely idea for our kids and their kids too!

Newfangled Traditions And Easy Baking

Barbara: I’m not super-sentimental. I don’t keep old birthday cards (although Deb has a genius use for old Christmas cards), and I try to keep nostalgic trophies from amassing. This is probably one of those split-camp things where some of you are firmly in one camp (nostalgic) or the other (not so much).

I enjoyed wonderful traditions when I was growing up … and didn’t hesitate for a second to change them up when I had a family of my own. Of course, it turned out that my parents had also tweaked and improvised those "old traditions”. Turns out I come from a long line of tradition-tweakers. (Makes me wonder which of our own heartfelt traditions my children will change for their own families.)

As it’s the holiday season—here’s a peek inside my family’s adopted “traditions”:

We celebrate Christmas in the European tradition on Christmas Eve (both our families come from European families). The kids have never complained about getting their presents a full 12 hours early. And we get to sleep in the next morning!

My mother and stepfather often visit us for the holidays, and as my stepfather is Jewish and if Hanukah overlaps (as it does this year), we also enjoy some Jewish festivities (beef brisket and potato pancakes this December 23^rd, mmmmm). I should mention here that my stepfather knows the Christmas carols and hymns better than we do!

Neither my husband nor I grew up with stockings, but we liked the concept, so we invented our own stockings tradition when the kids were about 4 and 7-years-old. We hang stockings and then for each of the twelve days before Christmas, we add one small item to each one. By the time Christmas Eve arrives, the stockings are bulging with the “12 Days of Christmas” goodies. Both girls still tease that when they were little they always cheated and fondled the stockings when no one was looking—and had no trouble identifying the “secret” roll of Scotch tape. The next day on Christmas morning, we lie in bed, all four of us and, one-by-one, reveal a stocking present. All this is followed by Christmas brunch and Christmas dinner. Mmmm.

We celebrate the four advents before Christmas. Not (I hope I don’t offend) as a religious ceremony, but as an excuse to gather various people around us and eat Christmas cookies and roasted chestnuts and popcorn and spiced pecans and sing carols. I did take this from my own family, just tweaking it a bit to include our other favourite foods (like cheese and salad and crusty French bread). This is a treasured tradition for each of us. Fond memories include when the kids were young and, fueled by a sugar high, would perform the carols for us replete with dances, plays, and puppet shows. To this day, they still adore Advent and many of our weekly celebrations include their friends—who always begin the celebration shy and tentative, but who end (probably also fueled by that sugar high) by singing and happily reveling alongside us. 

This tradition means that I need to have my Christmas baking done early in the season. And, oh by the way, I hate baking. So I’ve gathered a tried-and-true roster of baked goods that are a) super easy and pretty failsafe, and b) can be frozen for a steady holiday supply. As a new new tradition, through the next couple of weeks, I’m going to share with you my favourites among these recipes in case you’re looking for super-easy goodies that are freezer-friendly for your own traditional gatherings or last-minute shindigs! Enjoy.

Sweet Marie Bars

These are my biggest hit—I think I’ve shared this with just about every one of my buddies. They are delicious even straight from the freezer (although very hard). Soft, they are chewy and sweet and slightly salty. And they’re even vegetarian/vegan friendly. I don’t use my microwave for much, but this is one of my few exceptions.

This recipe is for an 8” glass pan, but to last through the season, I double it and set it in a 9by14” pan.

Bar:

½ cup semisweet chocolate chips (if vegan: make sure your chocolate chips don’t contain whey or lactose; if you’re Canadian, the Loblaw’s brand is good)

½ cup brown sugar

½ cup peanut butter

½ cup corn syrup

1tbsp butter or oil

¾ cups chopped peanuts (salted)

2 cups Rice Krispies (or popped rice type cereal)

Topping:

1cup semisweet chocolate chips

2tbsp peanut butter

In a large microwaveable bowl, combine the bar ingredients (without the nuts or Rice Krispies). Microwave uncovered at full power for 1min30, then stir well, then microwave for another 1min. You know it’s ready when the chocolate and sugar are fully melted (but not burned!). Remove bowl from microwave and stir in nuts and cereal. Press mixture into a buttered or oiled pan.

For the topping, use the same microwaveable bowl, but now add the topping ingredients. Microwave at HALF POWER for 2min, then stir and microwave for another 1-2min. Stir until smooth and spread over the bar base. 

Refrigerate until set (about 2 hours) and cut into very small squares. These are very rich, so be spare in size.

How to ruin these: it is very hard, but can be (and sadly, has been) done. Either by not cooking the bar mixture long enough, which results in a crumbly bar that doesn’t hold, or cooking too much (long or hot) and burning the chocolate. Keep checking the consistency and you’ll be fine.

(PS Deb won’t be able to vouch for these cookies as peanut butter and chocolate is a combo she abhors. Strange girl!!) Stay tuned for more easy goodies!

Deb: Barb, this is so lovely to see. I love getting a peek into the traditions of others. It’s wonderful to see the many ways we can celebrate, each making our own family unique in the midst of a tradition over 1/3 of the planet celebrates. I love your traditions, Barb, and I hear the joy in your voice each year as you recount the many ways the holidays light up for you and yours.

Here is what we do:

The four weeks of Advent we spend at church, lighting the candles and singing the great hymns and carols, and sharing the anticipation of the joy to come.  Each night of the four advents, we light one of the candles at home, on the advent wreath the boy was given by our dear friend, his first minister, Shirley.

We throw a festive party every year, some years we have 90 people and some years 15, but it is always a fun way to kick-start the season, as we always try to have it early in December.

Every December 24th for a good thirty years we have met with several dear friends for martinis and club sandwiches and it is a tradition we adore. It is so exciting to hear of everyone’s plans and I am always at the table stitching the last bell on a Christmas stocking.

Christmas Eve for as long as I can remember, my Mom and Dad have had a drop-in, complete with loving friends and family, hors d’oeuvres and spirits burning bright. As they have lost most of their friends, we now have a cosy gathering with present and absent friends. But we still do it. Only now, Colin and I throw it, aided by my brother and his wife, and our dear friends, Cheryl and Bill. It means the world to Mom and Dad and is a great way to tame the Christmas Day butterflies, which I am thrilled to say I still get.

I love the European tradition of Christmas Eve and had a boyfriend in my past whom I shared that with. Italian Mother and German father. It was glorious. But let’s face it, we all love the traditions we grew up with and, for me, it was going to bed with the tree bursting its branches with gifts as we turned off the lights. I loved as a child putting out the milk and cookies for Santa, confident that he would enjoy mine at just the right time in his journey. I loved waking up at three in the morning, all ten years of me and unwrapping the stocking and putting everything back exactly where it had been, then falling to sleep with visions of sugarplums dancing in my noggin.

As an adult, I loved a quiet midnight with a rum and eggnog, filling the stockings after boy had fallen asleep. Before I tucked him in, we would watch the news for the report of Santa’s journey across the planet and we would sing sweet carol lullabies till he faded off with his advent chocolate still clinging to his tongue.

Christmas Day in our home brings the opening of stockings, the champagne breakfast, nodding off in front of a Christmas movie, and the family gathering  for Christmas dinner. Grace is said, blessings are counted, and another Christmas winds down its magic.

Here’s to traditions of every faith and secular creature on earth. As Tiny Tim observed, “God bless us, everyone.”

We would love to hear all about your Christmas traditions. Tell one, or tell all!

London Diary, Day Seven: This Time It's Personal

Deb: I have a dear friend whom I have known since 1990 when I started with the Second City in Toronto. She was the producer of the theatre and therefore my boss, but we have over the years developed a wonderful friendship of love and trust. It was a road fraught with construction signs and detours given the status issues we needed to overcome, but we came to it, as humans often do, through adversity and the bond of something more.

The “more” was our struggle to become mothers. We wanted it so badly and we were united in the fact that we knew that neither of us could be truly happy until that happened. And it did. For her twice, and for me, once. We celebrated the birth of our babies knowing all too well that it could easily not have happened for either of us.

Today in London I was lucky enough to spend a full day with her eldest, the lovely Kaitlyn. Just a few years older than the boy, she works here doing a fabulous job that will help make her resume sing! The best part is, she loves both the job and London. We certainly share that view and we yakked about our London Love all the way in the cab like we were mooning over the latest boy band.

Our time together today was as the English say––brilliant. She came to a taping of Colin’s show  “Our Life In Your Hands” and said what any dutiful young woman would say, “Colin is the best.” Bless her wise little heart. I will not question Kaitlyn’s taste as she has clearly developed into a sage young woman!!!!

After the taping, she and I were off to a wonderful Indian restaurant for dinner. Colin had a second show to do but we blew it off in the name of hunger and thirst. We arrived at the restaurant. Let’s just say we talked. And talked. And laughed. And talked.

I remember her as a tot, toddler, young girl and lady, but tonight I had dinner with the woman. She is poised, charming, warm and is  perched on the brink of her very exciting life. Living it and dreaming it, all at the same time. I am happy and proud for her and I am so proud of my friend for what she and her husband have wrought.

I did not know what to expect. I wondered if we would be awkward given our history. I worried that it would be all question and answer by rote given the difference in our ages. But it was fun and I learned about her and from her. I hope she felt the same. I did not dare think it would be this lovely.

In the end it reminded me that each generation is exactly the same. We are thankful to our parents and the gifts that they give, and then we move on to make our own mark, our own mistakes. Afterwards we must stand alone to cheer our own triumphs. She and I talked about the fact that, although we all know we will turn into our parents, as we get older we lament it less and less. In fact sometimes we want it!  Wise words from a twenty-something. She has the world at her feet, this girl. And it reminded me that we all do. No matter our age or station or stage in life, we all do.

Kaitlyn and I wanted a photo before saying goodnight. We stopped a passerby who not only offered to take it, but moved us to a better light to try and make it nice for us. As he walked away, Kaitlyn said, "That's London!" Yep, it is!

This was a special night for me. Kaitlyn said to me as we hugged goodbye, “I needed to be Mothered tonight”. I am glad I could give her an eye-drop of mothering on behalf of my dear friend Sally who loves and misses her girl from across the pond. I will never forget this sweet little night. I hope Kaitlyn doesn’t either. 

Sunshine Sketches Of A Changed World

Deb: My husband and I are working on a film right now called Sunshine Sketches of a Small Town written by the great and iconic Canadian writer, Stephen Leacock (short bio and great quotes). The film is set in the year 1912.

We are shooting in a gorgeous setting by a lake in Gravenhurst, Ontario. As we shot yesterday in our beautiful lace gowns and tailored wool suits, I felt transported. We looked like we were right out of a Renoir painting. I glanced around at the various activities the actors and background artists were partaking of. Knitting and crocheting, Blind Man’s buff, swimming, tag, or just meditating on the beautiful surroundings.

My mind instantly went to a scenario from the other night at TIFF (Toronto International Film Festival). My husband and I went to a screening of Adrian Grenier’s film Teenage Paparazzo and we sat through the film surrounded by people texting, taking photos, talking full voice throughout, while snapping their heads around every five seconds to see “who else is here?” It became even more frustrating when Mr. Grenier got up to take part in a question and answer period. He took it very seriously and answered every question with respect and a good deal of thought. We marveled at the din around us as people declared loudly their love and adoration for him. Some of them were live chats and others were on the phone stating in booming voice things like, “he is so gorgeous ... yeah, he’s right here in front of me ... yeah he’s talking ... answering questions ... no, I haven’t seen the other guys yet, but Mark Walberg is here too ... oh hang on, people are applauding something he just said, I can’t hear you ... yeah, it is soooooooooo cool ... I’m going to try and meet him at the party after this.” My first thought was, “yeah, good luck with that, ladies!” and my second thought was, “Really? You love him, do you? Because you clearly do not RESPECT him. You have not shut your great gaping pie holes the entire time he has been talking.”

I looked around and only one out of five people was even trying to listen. The serious people had moved up to the front. When the talk was done and Adrian shouted out, “Let’s party!” I said to my husband, “Let’s go for a bite and go home.” He happily and gratefully agreed, which is saying something since my husband loves nothing more than good free food. But we had had enough of the rudeness and did not want to further subject ourselves to the shoving and the texting and the pushing and the ruding. I know this makes me sound like an old fogey and I know that I am saying nothing new with this, but I will say it once more. We have become a society of boors. Rude boors. No class.

At the time of the event I thought about blogging about it, then stopped myself because I felt there was nothing new I could add. But when I stepped onto the set of Sunshine Sketches, my mind instantly travelled back to the real place in time that we are depicting, and the contrast between these two events was staggering to me. I spent the day looking around and thinking how sweet, how innocent, how intoxicating it all was. This time in my mind’s eye, I could hear the ghosts of a hundred years ago,  “Glorious day today, Mrs. Dinton.” “Your flowers are exquisite, Mrs. Landry.” “I trust I am finding you today in good health, Mr. Aubrey?”

Despite my daydream back in time, I know there are inherent problems with every era, and I know it can be argued that they lived as simply as they did because they did not have any other option. And believe me, I am a big fan of technology. Love it. Find it miraculous. But I couldn’t help but pine for what they had. The lack of technology offered them the opportunity to sing and socialize and indulge in focused conversation. It’s why the children played in the sun, climbed trees, made swords out of sticks and tied love notes up with hair ribbons. I know the whys of it. But still.

I love the time I live in, but as I sat on that set, oh how I yearned taking just a moment’s rest in that world. I imagined myself popping into this picnic, on this day in time.  The film is as close as I will come to that. But it is good enough for a few days to erase the memory of the boors. This month I am a gentlewoman and it is sweet.

Barbara: Oh, Deb, you paint a divine picture. I can smell the grass, feel the sun, hear the quiet thrum of time slowing down and gentling, people communing with one another without cell phones in their hands and twenty social/work obligations queuing up in cyberspace behind them.

I have to tell you about the bistro lunch I had the other day with Phil. We’re sitting beside a table of three young women in their mid-twenties. One of the women is describing her recent experience working in London, England with underprivileged kids; she’s talking about how amazing it was, how amazing the kids were, how much she learned, how cool it was to live in London for six months, how it was hard leaving her new and potentially serious boyfriend…. Okay, you get the gist: interesting enough to prompt me to ignore my charming husband and blatantly eavesdrop.

Thing is, it was like she was doing one of those one-women shows where the actress sits centre stage and looks into the middle distance while she gives an extended monologue. And why? Because her two lunch mates, her (apparent) friends who haven’t seen her lo these six months, spend the ENTIRE LUNCH TEXTING while inserting the requisite pseudo-rapt, “Uh-huh.” “Wow.” “So cool.” “Awesome.” I was this close to pushing my own lunch aside and leaning over so I could be the seriously engaged audience she so obviously deserved.

The only opinion I will add is the one you already mention: I do believe this boorish rudeness has always existed in big filthy cities throughout history; we’ve just changed costume and props. But the idyll you describe has to be kept sacred. We desperately need somewhere to escape to from time to time so we can remember––and re-engage with––our humanity. 

“Like No Time Has Passed”

Barbara: Is that a midlife thing? Running into old acquaintances or meeting up with old friends and standing back and marveling that “it’s as if no time has passed at all”? Or do we all find ourselves doing that?

Well, I can say this for myself: I hear these words coming out of my mouth a lot more now than when I was in my twenties!

But it also really feels like it could be part of the whole space/time continuum thing, you know? That no time has passed. That we’re living everything simultaneously.

Just this weekend, dear college friends who we haven’t seen in at least a decade decided to heed the call of friendship and drive 4 hours so we four could catch up. It was long overdue. No one felt guilty about it, but we all knew it was time to turn back some time.

 We hadn’t been together for more than five minutes before each of us broke into huge grins and announced that, you guessed it, “no time had passed”. We were chatting and laughing and reminiscing and cracking jokes (well, the guys were … as you know, I’m no quipster). And even though of course we looked different, we didn’t look at all different, you know what I mean? Like it was the same gang as 25 years ago, with the same attitudes, wearing the same clothes (I mean, that was the 80s, but I don’t remember any of us rocking shoulder pads or Flock of Seagulls hairdos back then), even looking the same age. It was as if those rose-coloured glasses you always hear about had just popped on and all we could see was our mutual––youthful––love and affection.

Okay, Dave probably had more hair back then. And Phil too. Come to think of it, I probably did too...

Of course, after so much actual time having passed (after all, there are grown children to prove it), there was a lotta catching up to do. Some of it was the “laundry list” of “we lived there then there then here”, and some of it was the major brush strokes, “I did this then that and a little of the other”, and there was definitely some “this was a dark time” and “that was life-changing”. But there was just so much just … hanging out, being silly and laughing like we always did, like it was a Saturday night during the college years, us mawing down at the local Chinese restaurant and scrounging our pennies together to see if we could afford a beer to wash it down.

Thanks, my dear friends Dave and Nancy, for taking the time to visit and for reminding me that as fast as time seems to fly, it can also stand still and marvel.

Deb: This is splendid, Barb, really. What a great and rewarding experience that must have been for you guys. I have a dear friend. Let’s just call her Carol Ann, for that is her name. She and I were friends as little girls and then remained friends through high school and then lost touch. There was never a falling out or even a lack of interest. We just fell away from each other. Over these last ten years, through a series of circumstances and mutual friends, we came together again. And the time I spend with her online and face to face is so special, so connected, that I shake my head with wonder that it wasn’t always thus.

A Record Of My Past

Deb: My husband and I just came home from a big show selling old vinyl records. Cash only, bartering welcome. We went down just to see what we would see and to make a few purchases.

Nothing gives me more joy than popping a disc on the record player. Slipping the vinyl out of its sleeve, blowing the dust off, and gingerly placing the needle on the thick groove at the edge.

What comes next is the lovely scratch of anticipation, then––BOOM––instant time machine.

When I was a kid, records were my pride and joy. I would actually carry around a fave album at school with my schoolbooks like it was a baby. I remember Led Zeppelin 2 actually having the welt of my handprint on it.

Today, at the record show, that history was for sale. Boxes and boxes of albums, some carefully labelled alphabetically and others tossed randomly in a crate. People were pouring through them searching for their own musical treasures of the record player age.

I was looking for my own memories. Specifically, for good copies of albums I already had that were scratched beyond recognition. And oh, the treasures I found. First was an album called Nucleus. Mine had been played and played and played until its only use was as a serving tray. And I found it. Nucleus. Perfect condition. Then I found The Eagles Long Run, perfect condition. Then I found a Beach Boys Christmas Album and a very rare Beatles album with a cover I have never seen in my life. Snapped them up! The cold hard cash we were carrying was gone in fifteen minutes. There were no bank machines and we were empty. Spent, literally. As we were strolling out the door I was grinning like a gargoyle clutching my albums, feeling all Grade 11.

Suddenly something caught my eye. Led Zeppelin 2. A beam of light shot from the heavens and pointed me right to it. Original packaging, NEVER BEEN OPENED. Heart pounding, I approached gingerly. And I was playing it so cool. LIES. Not cool at all. Covetous. Approaching maniacal. Picked it up and read the price. $60.00. Fair price for a masterpiece, UNLESS YOU DON’T HAVE THE DOUGH ON YOU. So we left and realized that we forgot to get the seller’s card.

So please, send a prayer to the rock and roll gods to give me a chance at that album again. That pristine perfect platter of my past. I will NOT fail the next time. I will search and I will find it. But till then, I will “ramble on, and now’s the time, the time is now to sing my song.” And I will. It will be a scratchy duet. But when I get a good clean copy, I will dance the dance of the air guitar and it will be sweet! “Leaves are falling all around, time I was on my way-ay!”

Barbara: Mmmmm, real records. Now that triggers a surge of nostalgia in me like almost nothing else. When I was growing up, my dad worked in the record industry and I got most of my LPs for free. Yes, we had the requisite photos hanging on our walls of him posing with industry luminaries: The BeeGees, John Mellencamp, The Village People (shut up!). Music was always playing in our house, whether it was classical, opera, rock, or the soundtrack from the latest hot new movie musical Grease. 

So buying my first album with my very own hard-earned money was definitely a rite of passage that I came to much later than most teens. But I remember it well: The Cars by The Cars. Oh my. Sex in music. I could’ve listened to it all day. And, yes, the scratchy sound, the lack of crisp clarity were all part of the aural charm.

Unlike you, Deb, I don’t have a player hooked up anymore, but Phil and I have talked about setting one up. Your post just makes that urge that much stronger. I love my CDs (and legally paid for downloads), but there is something about that classic, making-out-in-dark-basements vibe of the good ‘ol record that beckons.

Bye Car

Deb: My Dad is just about to turn 84. At Christmastime, after a year of serious consideration, I asked him to give up his car. It is time. He and I went for a drive one day and it was NOT good. He was swerving into other lanes, running stop signs and doing a solid 10 below the speed limit.

It was an awful moment but I have to say, he handled it with grace and resignation. He knew that it was getting to the point where he might hurt himself or, worse for my Dad, someone else. That is a scenario from which he would never recover.

I don’t know if I have mentioned this, but my Dad is the kindest guy. Empathy, tenderness, and kindness just burst out of him.

So, he relented. And today we are donating his car, a 1990 Buick, to my old high school for its Auto Shop program. He loved this idea as it was killing him to think that the car would go right to the scrap-yard. After all, said he, “It’s not the car’s fault. It’s still running great.”  It has a bit of rust, but as Dad pointed out, don’t we all? It still runs like a charm, so we are going to drive it up to the school this morning and drop it off. Dad is coming with us to see it safely inside the shop and to say his goodbyes.

I can totally relate to that, as I have stood weeping over every car I have ever let go. I weep grateful tears over the car that has kept me safe, the car that has witnessed all the little stories the boy has imparted on our drives to school, the car that has accompanied us to parties and funerals and concerts and road trips.

So I know what Dad is feeling today. His car was his business partner for many years so the miles and successes and failures of every venture are wrapped up in those four wheels and a chassis.

But more than that, Dad is giving up his independence. No more shall he jump in the car on a whim and take off for destinations unknown.

It is a huge shift in our lives too, as they are now dependent on us for everything: food, meds, dry cleaning, appointments, and the like.

We have made our peace with that. I knew on the day I told him it was time to stop driving, that our lives would go into a tailspin of constant chore activity. We are still adjusting to it. We are into the everyday of it right now, remembering to ask Mum and Dad every time we go out what is wanted and what is needed. We are settling into it quite well, I have to say.

But his is the greater task. He and my Mom are trying to overcome their biggest trial. They are trying to push past the guilt of us doing every single thing for them.  When I went over yesterday to deliver the new version of the wrong pens I had bought for them, they were both crying about the situation. I try to remind them that it is our honour and pleasure to help them out. I remind them of the years that they schlepped me around and did for me, came for me and went for me. I remind them of how they took us in when we came back from L.A. and turned their lives upside down to make room for us. And they know. But still. I know what they are going through. They are trying to maintain their status as the parents as we struggle in this role-reversal tug of war. I get it. And there by the grace of God...

Quick, Channel Two!

Deb: My Mum called me the other day to say that the original The Day the Earth Stood Still was on TV. She told me what channel it was on and I said, “Thanks Mum, that’s great, but you know that you own it, right? We gave it to you three Christmases ago.” She said, “Oh I know, but ... it’s on TV!”

This is a scenario that has repeated itself over the years much to my amusement, but I have to say, I get it now. As crazy as it sounds, and even if it is pure nostalgia, I get it. We all know how wonderful, how convenient it is to be able to rent, buy, or PVR a movie (TiVo to our friends south of the 49th parallel) and watch it at our convenience. But I have to say, I finally know what my Mum meant. Because I remember like it was yesterday gathering around the TV waiting with great anticipation to see our favourite shows. It was an event. Friday afternoon was talent round-up on the Mickey Mouse Club. Christmas brought The Wizard of Oz and Mary Martin’s Peter Pan, which happened only once a year!!! Can you imagine? Wouldn’t have missed it for the world. I have warm glowing memories of my Dad and I hunkering down to watch Rat Patrol and The Avengers. I can still remember like it was yesterday that my bedtime on Wednesday night was right after My Favourite Martian. I would sit on my parents’ bed all scrunched up in my PJ’s waiting till the clock struck 8:30. Then Uncle Martin’s antenna would retract and that was my cue to hit the sack.

TV was a regularly scheduled event in our world, and our lives were conducted by the beat of Mitch Miller’s baton. When the shows you loved were on, all activities would stop and you could hear the hum of the rabbit ears all over your street! I guess I was so caught up in trying to drag my Mum and Dad into the 21st century that I forgot what I was missing.

But when Mom called me the other day it hit me like an anvil hitting the Coyote on the head. And I remembered. I remembered when I was in my twenties and living on my own. I was barely out of the house and I treasured my newfound independence. Then my Mum would phone and tell me that Andy Hardy or Shirley Temple was on. I would scurry to the TV to turn it on, to watch it with her, and it filled me with the warmth of being at home with them. There we were the two of us, making tea together during the commercials even though we were miles apart. And I guess that’s all she wants now, and I love it.

Mum and I sharing the TV experience, same Bat Time, same Bat Channel.

Barbara: This is so sweet. I love the shared experience. Especially with a loved one. Phil and I were on a plane together a few months ago and each had our own screen for our own entertainment. But we picked the same film and watched it (virtually) simultaneously side by side. It made the whole experience better. The same reason I love watching movies in a movie theatre. So many of you sharing the same ride at the same time.

When I was growing up, the significant show was The Wonderful World of Disney on Sunday nights. My mom would roast chicken and bake French fries and we would all gather in the family room, perch our plates on our laps, and eat dinner as we watched the Disney movie of the week.

Funny how for us this is a cherished nostalgic memory, but for child-raising experts it’s one of the big no-no’s! I can say this, we don’t watch nearly as much TV together as we did “back in the good ol’ days”. I miss it ☺