My whole purpose in life this summer has been to be at my Mother's beck and call. Since she no longer drives, I have shared the chauffeur responsibilities with several other family members. She has always been a very socially involved lady about town. Now as she approaches her 86th birthday she remains as active as she physically can.
Yesterday I took her to Mass and then to an 80th birthday party of a family friend. We had to drive to another county, a small farming community that can only be reached by driving a curvy hilly road that descents to the Kentucky River, which is traversed by an equally curved concrete bridge...
....as you can see.
I am not the good dutiful daughter. OK I act like one most the time, but in my heart I am whining about why me! I don't want to go. It's going to be a boring time and I can not steal away and hide outside and read a book!
As the case ususally is, I had a most excellent time.
A little bit of back story. The Birthday girl had eight children. I went to school with most of them. Son Number Two was in my class...grammar school. You could say I have known them all my life. Of the eight children,, there are 42 grand kids. Of the 42 grand kids there are about 100,000 great grand kids.
I exaggerate. But, they were all there. Most of them.
I met the new priest of the parish who was installed the beginning of July. We stuck up a lively conversation, as St. Theresa (my Mom) had him sit at our table. Somehow we realized that we had both attended the Catholic High School for central Kentucky. He had graduated the year I started.
We had a lively talk about Father "S", "Father Beach Boy. The man all the girls loved and all the boys wanted to be." he said. I thought that was so cool and so absolutely true!
We chatted and chatted and I forgot he was a priest and even said "hell".....Father forgive me.
On the way home I realized what a great time I had and why. It was mind blowing.
Guess what? We have moved again. This time will be the last time for a long long time. Perhaps when taken out feet first or out the window. Which I swear is a tradition I heard at the Dublin Irish Festival. My mother could not confirm it, but they do open a window for two hours to allow the spirit to leave. Then you have to close it so that the spirit does not return!
So we are back in the Louisville area since last week. I am thrilled to be back here even if it is sort of melancholy. I am not certain why, but I feel sad and misplaced. I have called Clarksville home. I have called Memphis home. I have called Ft. Wayne home. I have called Lexington home and today I find I am once again calling Louisville my home base.
And we are trying to lose all the weight we have packed on by heading to the Big Four Bridge and walking back and forth several times. It's a wondrous view of Louisville and Jeffersonville on the Indiana side as well as providing all Ohio River traffic entertainment.
This morning Joe pointed out what looked like a log floating in the current. Except it was working against the current. It was a massive beaver! A second one followed 30 feet or so behind the first and did a nose dive under the industrial waters of the Ohio. Sharing the small channel was a lone kayaker who choose just that moment to stop and traverse around and the lead beaver headed straight towards him.
I observed in muted fascination as I anticipated the beaver to head butt the small river vehicle. The beaver went under and I held my breath! The kayak went on about his business and I reluctantly headed up towards the morning exercise thinking about that cartoon of years ago The Angry Beavers.
They are alive in well off the shore of Louisville, living life large on a small channel island just North of the Big Four Bridge.
Hanging out with the cool kids.
It's unbelievable but it has been 40 years since I graduated from High school. I ask myself daily how is this possible? How did time go by quickly? Was 1971 that long ago? Apparently the answer is a resounding YES.
Recently I have been working with a lot of high school kids at G-land. Kids that are entering their senior years at High School or attending the universities for the first time. Sitting in our Break Room in the trailor out back of G-land I was having a conversation with one of the kids, "A long long time ago in the 1960's......" he began and I started laughing inside my head in an hysterical kind of way. Quickly doing the math, if that had been me at that age taking about a certain era I would have been speaking about the 1920's. If I had had a mouthful of liquid I would have spewed it.
It's all relative, isn't it?
Are the hippies and kids of the 1970's like the Flappers of the 1920's to this generation? The answer is yes.
So I went to my High School reunion on the Fly. I sent in my money. I made my hotel reservations. I made an Airline reservation. I posted pictures on the Face Book page. I grew excited. Then I decided at the last moment not to go and cancelled everything.
Then I jumped in my car and drove the seven hours to be there because I am a wish washy can't make up my mind kind of spacy that way sort of person. I realized I could not miss it.
At the reunion I began throwing back watered down vodka smashes (my concoctions and directions given to the bartender to mix up in the thimble sized glasses).
I ended up downtown with a gang of the Popular Kids dancing at Johnny Angels with the class Egg Head. It was so much fun! It was like we were hanging out with the Cool Kids!
Well, we were.
