The Last Grandparent

My eleven grandchildren range in age from five to thirty (nearly).  The great majority of them are well over twenty but the three youngest, the Tyler trio, have lost all but one grandparent.  Actually they never knew Lane's father who died when Lane was still in his teens.  They were close to Kathy's father, Papa, or Paul Williams, and he has only been gone for three years.  But last night Lane's lovely young mother, Merridonna Thompson, passed away in Mother Francis Hospital at only sixty four.  Her health had been on the decline but this was still a stunning turn of events.

And so, I am their last grandparent standing.  Its a daunting position to be in.  It would be more expected for the older grandchildren but except for Tom, they all have active grandparents in their lives, around their activities.

Now Kagan, Kallie and Kyndall have only me.  Its a really good thing that I decided to head up here last summer so we could become better acquainted.  I enjoy spending part of almost every day with some or all of them.

Yesterday Kagan and I made baklava together, the easier Turkish kind.  We made it last year for a school history project and pretended it was the Greek style.  He liked it, we all do, and so it was yesterday's project and it turned out quite well.

A few nights ago Kyndall and I were having a quiet, getting ready to fall asleep conversation when she said, "Gramma, I hope you will always be my babysitter."  I said, "Kyndall, I don't think you're going to want a babysitter when you're thirteen years old."  She said, after consulting fingers on both hands, "lets see, I'm five now so that is eight more years. Okay."  "Then I'll be eighty."  Wow, she said, that's when people die isn't it?

I hope I get to see her turn thirteen and not need me anymore.  There are no guarantees, of course, but I'd like to think these three sweet kids will have at least one grandparent for a few more years.

Houston, the first part

I graduated from high school in Wauwatosa, Wisconsin, on Friday, June 13th, 1958.  On Sunday I boarded a train for Texas, to spend the summer working at a radio station and living with radio friends I had made during the years I worked at WRIT in Milwaukee.

On Monday, June 16th, I arrived at Union Station and was whisked out Allen Parkway to begin my life in Houston.  I would live with the Program Director and his wife and two children, for whom I had babysat regularly back home.  They offered me room and board in exchange for help with the kids and a day job at the new radio station McLendon had put on the air in Houston, KILT.  The General Manager had been the same at WRIT.  I would put money away for college and head home in the fall.

It would be a fun challenge to map all the places I have lived and worked in Houston in the ensuing fifty plus years.  KILT began life in the OLD Milby Hotel on Texas Avenue downtown, directly across the street from the Rice (Fancy Schmancy) Hotel.  On the first day the first person I met was the lovely receptionist, Beverly.  I've always made friends where I work and I'm proud to say that she is widowed now (from the aforementioned GM) and lives in Cibolo, TX, just a few miles from my daughter Laura.  We stay in touch and see each other occasionally.  A beauty queen and beautiful person, she graduated from Spring Branch High School and lived at home with her folks who were gracious and welcoming to me.

Somehow I discovered that the University of Houston offered a Radio/TV degree and since I'd been working in radio for three years, I thought I should have one.  I contrived to receive a small scholarship and instead of heading North for college, moved to the only "girls" dorm on the UH campus in September.

In the Spring KILT moved to elegant, modern facilities at 500 Lovett Boulevard, quite a departure from the Milby!  No more elevator rides with Bull Curry and other local wrestlers.  No more walks to the 1010 parking garage in the afternoon downpours.  There is still a photograph of Beverly and me, wearing kilts, welcoming people to the courtyard for the grand opening.

I was engaged to Lindsey English, who was soon to graduate from UH.  He'd worked at Channel 13, on Cullen Boulevard, all through his years, both as a cameraman and weekend booth announcer.  We married and I got a job with a small ad agency, Tel-Ad Productions.  Their office was in the Park Towers.  Charlie Whitaker and Jim Page were hilarious.  It was a fun job but not long lived.  I became the Production Coordinator at A.S. Black Advertising on West Gray.  And I became pregnant ... much to Mr. Black's dismay.  I worked much later that he would have liked, because we were busy.  I even took part in a Grand Prize Beer commercial, pushing a shopping cart, when I had to back away to keep said child out of the shot!

Lindsey went off to serve his two years of Naval Reserve duty and I moved in with his folks in Willowbend.

Just remembering that first year or so of life in Houston brings up so many names, faces and places, that I could not get to sleep last night remembering them, connecting them and missing so many who are no longer around.

To think, at this rate I could do about fifty five blogs on my life since moving to Texas two days after graduating from high school at the age of seventeen.  Cheer up.  I won't.

Ironing

Ironing is a great time for introspection.  Today, while ironing shirts, I thought back to my first mother-in-law.  She was a very accomplished housewife.

When her son, probably an adopted son, married me and subsequently went off to serve his two year stint in the Navy, she welcomed me into their home.

After a year on my own, in a college dormitory, it was the sensible thing to do both economically and advisorly.  Here I was, nineteen years old, pregnant, still working but not making much money, with a husband just out of college and now aboard a guided missile cruiser in the Philadelphia Naval Shipyards.

Looking back, they couldn't have been thrilled to have me.  First of all, in their eyes I was a "yankee."  Now, I knew that I was really a Mid-Westerner, but that wasn't a term with which they were familiar.  North of Red River = Yankee.

And I wasn't very good at ironing.  Looking at the five shirts I just finished, I believe I have improved.  I'm still not great at sewing on buttons, but that's next.  My M-I-L, who was known as "Honey", gave me serious lessons in how to iron a dress shirt.

The other lessons came when we brought our darling baby girl home from Hermann Hospital at five days old.  We had to push to get her out that soon because her Daddy needed to return to the ship.  He carried her from the hospital to the car and from the car to her crib and left for the airport.

My M-I-L's favorite saying, when it came to taking care of sweet girl, was "Now everybody has their own way of doing things.  Here's how we are going to do it."  And we did.  I lost most of the pictures of those first few weeks in the drenching from TS Allison, but I remember them well.

At five weeks old, Laura and I boarded an airplane non-stop to Philadelphia to begin Navy life.

Soon Laura will be a grandmother for the first time.  She has been a spectacular mother for almost thirty years.  She loves babies, and she knows how to take care of them.  Her grandchild's parents have nothing to fear.  It will be a very special time for all of them.  Thank goodness.

Luxuries and Necessities

Returning to the job market has me thinking about how I spend my money.

My guess is that everyone has Luxuries and Necessities.  For a sadly situated person in a developing part of the world it may be the difference between sparking fresh water, a luxury, and any old water, a necessity.
I'm sure that the really rich have a far different take on what is luxurious, private planes, regular vacations to exotic places, new clothes, etc, etc, etc.

Since leaving the big city behind to work at more menial tasks to supplement that massive check I get from SS every month; ( Note:  I love that check.  It is the most I've ever gotten in the way of support, that I didn't have to work 40 or 50 hours to receive.) I have reordered the luxuries.  One is really good coffee beans, another is finding great tacos, and another is buying cookware!

I have learned that one of the secrets to managing on less is to have far fewer temptations.  You all must tire of me going on about what a wonderful small town I found Navasota to be, on myriad fronts.  However, it was perfect for few temptations, few restaurants, few stores and few "entertainment outlets."  Since "boutique shopping" has never been my fashion, even the many of them there were not a problem.  Additionally, just twenty minutes up the road was College Station, so if I "needed" it and couldn't find it in Navasota, I knew where to look next.  That worked for stores, restaurants, doctors and churches.  Ideal.

Now I am teaching myself new coping skills.  While I'm in a very small town, it is immediately adjacent to the fanciest, richest, prettiest city of 100,000 in East Texas.  Oh oh, temptations everywhere.  Well almost everywhere, it does not have some of my favorite stores; World Market, Jamba Juice and Pei Wei, to name a few.  See, I had some luxuries right there in College Station.  So far I've gone back to CS for coffee beans, found fabulous tacos here ("street" and "Rusty"), and quit buying cookware.  I do, however, go to a pretty upscale church and did buy a new sweater to wear there.  They are warm and friendly and I don't have to keep up.  I wanted the sweater.  The kids and Kathy are at a really wonderful private school and I have attended many functions there and bought more than a couple t-shirts.

So, in thinking about finding my next employment, my thoughts wander to what luxuries I will be able to add, in addition to bill paying and food.  One note, medical care is much higher priced here, even with Medicare.  I miss my wonderful Dr. Selva in Navasota.  I want to go to Fairhope in March for Arts & Crafts, stopping in Louisiana to visit and EAT!!!  I guess my main luxury is traveling.

I'm not complaining, this is not a whine.  I'm just trying to see if I want the "luxuries" enough to get myself out there and find a job.

Off to find a taco.