Memorial Day – film starring James Cromwell and Jonathan Bennett

Recently, I had the opportunity to attend an advanced screening of a movie.  The film is called Memorial Day.  Pre-screening events have been held in various locations around Minnesota.  Military personnel, current or retired, were invited to attend and recognized before the viewing.

The film was officially shown at the Minneapolis/St. Paul International Film Festival on Saturday, April 21, 2012 and over the next four weeks, will make its way to four other film festivals.

Click the movie link to read the synopsis and see a trailer.

James Cromwell’s son, John, also stars in the film.  John plays his father’s character at an earlier age and they are the spitting image of each other, so the mind makes the transition to the past comfortably.

The film, shot in Minnesota, will be released on Blue-ray, DVD, and digital download next month, during the week of Memorial Day.

If you have the opportunity to view it, I recommend it.  I won’t spoil the story, but it was poignant for me, because I have my father’s foot locker.~ 

Take This Tune

I think I’ve only participated in this meme once before, quite some time ago.  I found out about Take This Tune from Trav’s blog, but he refers everyone to Jamie, who started it.  If you want to participate, head to Jamie’s link for the scoop.

The theme is “Feels Like Home,” a song by Randy Newman.  The goal of the meme is to take Jamie’s musical prompt and tell a story in whatever way suits your storytelling.  The title reminded me of something, so I thought I would try to share . . .

My granddaughter moved in with me when she was five and a half years old.  It was one month before her mother passed away.  For that month, the move was gradual, just her bed, some clothing, and her favorite stuffed buddy.  Everything else stayed with her mother because we would go there everyday to help with my daughter’s medical routines.

When my daughter passed away, the rest of my granddaughter’s things were moved into my house.  My husband and I had a spare bedroom that we had turned into his den, but the recliner and TV were moved out and the room turned into my granddaughter’s bedroom.  Her toys, her curtains, the area rug from her mother’s apartment were all set up in her new place.

Transition under the best of circumstances can be a challenge, but under such tragic conditions, it proved to be a lot more work.

GN cried and cried.  Not only was her mother gone, but she was uprooted, albeit only one long block, to live in a new home.  She was so little and could only relate to loss and change.  She had to go to her first day of Kindergarten without her mom.

One image burned into my heart is of my wee little granddaughter standing inside my house facing the front door with her arms outstretched and sobbing.  When I asked her what was wrong, her response came without eye contact.  “I JUST WANT TO GO HOME!”

From that moment forward, I tried to make it my goal to help her finally accept my home as hers.  It took over four years.  It didn’t come without hurdles.  My granddaughter didn’t actually want to be there.  I couldn’t blame her.  All her memories were tied up in a different place.

So . . . we set about making new memories tied to her new place and then I just had to wait.  She needed those memories to be repeated often enough to establish some traditions.  She needed something reliable again.  I guess everything eventually became reliable enough.

Without her telling me, I knew when her heart had softened to her transition.  One day, she looked at the calendar and announced:  “It’s our House Birthday, Gram!”

I was puzzled.

GN: It’s our House Birthday, Grammy.  The date is the same as our address!

I seized the opportunity. 

Gram: What do you think we should do, Honey?

GN: We should have a party to celebrate the date matching our address.

Gram:  Why should we do that, Sweetie?

GN:  Because it’s our home!

Gram:  Your’s too?

GN:  Yes, Grammy.  It feels like home.

So each year since then, we’ve celebrated our House Birthday.  All the better that is was her idea and not something else forced on her.  We still buy a house gift and then have a house party . . . but in my heart, I know that it finally ‘feels like home’ to her.

This summer, we need to make a change to that home.  The little girl who lost her mother just before she started Kindergarten, will be heading to high school in the fall.  Her bedroom is going to get a makeover.  GN has been collecting paint swatches and magazine photos for a while.  It’s a good sign that it still feels like home to her.

Not that it’s boring . . .

. . . it’s just repetitive.

Wash GN’s hair, towel dry, comb it out, braid it. 

Follow schedule for her pain relief, write her homework for her.

School bus driver still accompanied by observer for third straight week.

Busy at work.

Thank goodness for the pot of soup I made last weekend.  I know it’s a cop-out, but we had some nearly every night for dinner and you know what?  It tasted great each time!  I plan to make another pot of soup this weekend, as well.  This time, split pea with ham.

GN is keeping her spirits up while she’s on the mend.  We’ve been raiding the fruit bowl for some evening fun.  The Pairs in Pears game is our most recent acquisition.  That one is a race against opponents, so I’ve even been playing with one hand to keep it fair.

I should be more careful about selecting videos for us to watch together in the evenings.  Now, GN wants to walk the Camino de Santiago de Compostela.  I can’t say that I blame her.  I’ve known of the walk for a while, but I recently found a discounted video starring Martin Sheen and she loved it.  The video was the reason she added the Camino to her Bucket List. 

I hope she waits until her cast is off. 

Until the cast comes off . . .

My granddaughter was hesitant at first.  She is, by nature, very independent.  Of necessity, she learned that trait quickly when Angel was diagnosed with cancer.  I believe independence is a good quality, but we are not alone on this earth and I want her to learn that, as well.  I told her I was going to be washing her hair, combing it smooth, then braiding it every evening until her cast comes off.

She wanted to turn me down and try it herself.  I asked her if she had $100 she could spare for the hospital co-pay for reapplying a cast if she got the first one wet.  She didn’t have to think about her answer.  She let me wash her hair.  Blunt truth saves time sometimes. 

She fussed (politely) a bit as I got set up in the kitchen where I was going to treat her like a customer in a salon.  But when the first bit of warm water hit her head and then her grandmother’s hands lathered her hair with shampoo, she heaved a heavy sigh of relaxation and settled in for the hair-washing treatment.

I towel-dried her hair, then served up some home-made soup and with bread I had baked last weekend.

After dinner, we plugged a movie into the VCR (yes, it was an old film she hadn’t seen before, but more about that another time) and then GN sat on the living room floor in front of me.  I slowly combed out her hair until is was silky smooth and then braided it to one side so she wouldn’t have a bump when she finally rested her head on her pillow.

When the movie was over, we got to work on her algebra.  She’s trying to write with her left hand, but it’s difficult to read, so for the final answers, I told her that I would write for her.  (FYI, this information was to be conveyed to her algebra instructor at the same time she informed him of her mishap.)  Actually she’s still in quite a bit of pain, so I’m sure that affects her energy to practice writing with her left hand.  That can wait until she feels better.

I don’t know if we will repeat the movie-watching ritual every school night until her cast comes off, but the hair-washing and the tag-team homework extravaganza will continue.  Everything else can wait for a while.

She keeps apologizing for some presumed burden.  What else would I be doing?  Knitting can wait.  Reading can wait. Those are individual pleasures that go by the wayside more frequently as the weather turns nicer outside anyway.   Nothing needs mending.  My ‘chore and a drawer a day’ philosophy of keeping house finds me caught up with the regular routines.  The air has been fresh through the open windows the last few days.  The vegetable soup was satisfying.  Not much to feel burdened about . . . except a heavy heart for the pain she’s in and the after-school activity in which her participation has come to a screeching halt.

In the scheme of things, we’ll take this gently and enjoy the break from the fast lane for a while.

A personal note: I don’t want to make myself appear to be perfect.  I am far from that.  I am a stern old woman, set in my ways and opinions.  I get cranky just like the rest of humanity.  Given the choice, I would cook as little as possible, knit as much as possible and be a hermit except to buy yarn or hunt for another Christmas movie to add to my collection.  It’s exhausting to raise a child on one income and at my age.  But . . . this house mate of mine, the grand-offspring who makes me laugh, deserves to learn lessons of love and patience whenever possible.  The world will teach her quickly enough where she needs a thick skin.  It is her grandmother who will nurture her vulnerability for just a little while longer. 

Tonight, I’m going to paint her nails!  Shh, don’t tell her.  She doesn’t know it yet.  It will be fun, but I also have to keep checking her fingers so that the cast doesn’t become too tight from swelling at the injury sight.  She won’t know I’m checking her circulation.  She’ll just know that the nail color will match the new softball team jerseys that arrived the day after her injury.

Saving Face

Goodnight had a fast-pitch softball game yesterday after school.  It began at 4:00.  I arrived just in time to bring her a snack and a beverage and to watch the pre-game warm-up.  It was a beautiful day to be outdoors.  I brought my chair and a book to pass the time.

It was a home game, so the opposing team got to bat first.  Three up.  Three down.

GN’s team got up to bat and they faced some very inexperienced pitching:  the ball went high, the ball went low, the ball went wide.  GN’s team scored on walked batters.  They scored a lot.

At the end of the first inning, the opposing coach pulled the pitcher and put in a second one.

She didn’t throw any wild pitches. She was basically bowling.  GN’s team contined to score on balls that were “Low and outside.”

Admittedly, eighth graders like to score and win, but the game had become one of bowling practice and golfing as GN’s team took turns swinging at the low pitches just to see if they could hit themselves to first base.

At the end of the second inning, the second pitcher was pulled and the shortstop came in to take a turn on the mound.

The pattern of three up, three down and then GN’s team scoring on walks continued for another inning.  The third pitcher remained in play.

In the bottom of the 4th inning, GN got up to bat, let some wild pitches go and then . . . got beaned in her right hand.  She got hit because the uncontrolled throw came straight at her face.  Luckily, she got her hand up in time to prevent that.

Batters hit by a wild pitch take the base immediately, just as if they were walked on balls, so GN headed to first base.  I was seated near third.  As she rounded the bases on the next few walks, she turned her back to me.  I knew she was hurting, but she was intent on scoring before she cried.

When she crossed home plate, I walked over to the dugout and told her to gather her things because I was going to take her to the ER for an x-ray.  I saw how the ball hit her and didn’t want to take any chances on those growing bones of hers.

In the photo below, GN was waiting for the final word on her x-rays.

Today, she’s sporting a new cast from her thumb to her elbow, a sling to support her arm so her thumb can be elevated and she is still in a lot of pain, but she headed off to school anyway.  I told her to speak with her teachers and ask for a one-day extension on the homework that was due today.  The ER run took so long that we didn’t get home until after 9 p.m. and still hadn’t eaten dinner.  GN needed pain meds and a good night’s sleep.

When GN got to school today, she called me from the office and informed me that her math teacher didn’t believe her.  What is the man thinking?  How many times does one get to the ER, have nothing wrong with them and then have a cast put on?  There were even school personnel in attendance at the game when the injury happened.

As for the outcome of the game: the slaughter rule doesn not go into effect until five innings have been completed.  At the rate they were going, they were going to be there another hour after we left for the ER.

One final note for my own benefit, really:  bring better snacks to the softball field, keep some in  the car so they can serve as dinner in the event we are waiting for the wrist specialist to arrive in the Emergency Room. (I know GN couldn’t really have had anything to eat until they determined whether surgery was necessary or not, but it was a long time from lunch at 11:30 a.m. to dinner at 9:30 p.m.)

Must scoot.  I am on my way to GN’s school for a meeting with that math teacher.  I try not to pick too many battles, but this one is necessary to save face for GN.  She did not lie about her injury, her trip to the ER or her cast.  She physically saved her face from a hit by the ball and I am going to help save her face emotionally from the accusation of lying.

I can’t decide . . .

 

What do you think?

Is it for the grandma or from the grandma?

Goodnight and I went to the Mexican market to find the hot chocolate packages that I like to send in her lunch box from time to time.

Abuelita literally means ‘little grandmother’, but with the diminutive ending it is a term of endearment such as grammy, granny, grandma, nana, etc.  I buy it to remind GN that she is taking Spanish and also to remind her of . . . me!

As for whether it’s for the grandmother or from the grandmother – I say BOTH!  What typically happens is that when I send one to school with GN, I tuck one in my purse and promise to have mine ‘with’ her when she’s at lunch.  Her response is usually, “Thanks, Grammy, but you won’t be mad if I don’t think of you, right?  I get kinda busy at lunch.”

She makes me laugh.~

All the way to halfway!

My granddaughter and I had a fun and relaxing day on our journey to the 45th parallel – halfway between the equator and the north pole.

When we started out yesterday, I had intended to make a day trip to a location that I had learned about a few years ago.  Before we headed out, however, I did some quick research on the internet and found a website that showed the locations of quite a few 45th parallel markers in North America.  One of them happened to be closer to home than our initial destination, so we started with that one.

Goodnight was a great sport about all this.  She enjoyed the drive and then keeping an eye out for the geological marker.  It wasn’t as difficult to spot as I had thought.  Of course, the upright pole with the sign on it helped immensely, as did the directions I got from the park board’s website.

I was encouraged when GN whipped out her iPod to take some photos, too.

Here’s a closeup of the geological marker.

By the time we found the 45th parallel marker closest to home, it was nearly lunchtime!  We turned the car toward our next destination.

After a leisurely 90-mile drive, we arrived in Cadott, Wisconsin.  They have a large sign in the city park informing passersby that they are halfway between the equator and the north pole.  It’s a lot more obvious than the geological marker we found earlier in the day.

GN like this second stop much better because there was a park/playground involved.  Now, as a general rule, it’s been a long time since she’s wanted to spend time at a playground.  I understand.  She’s growing up and I can’t expect her to go down a slide anymore. Or . . . can I?

The park was lovely.  There was some activity there: baseball games going on, people having picnics, and children enjoying the playground.  We lingered a while.  GN found a post in the parking lot that stirred a movie memory for her – the Karate Kid pose.

A sign in the park points to various locations in North America and notes their respective distances from Cadott.  Hmm, not too far from Indianapolis.  A Super Bowl XLVI memory made me smile . . .

GN and I stayed in the park a while and then turned toward home.  We stopped along the way to have dinner together and celebrate the Earth Day  in our own way.  (I recommend the spaghetti!) Our journey had basically followed the 45th parallel with minor deviations due to topography.  The latitude of our home location is 44.9531° N, so we were not very far from halfway to the north pole to begin with.

The purpose of Earth Day has always been to increase awareness and appreciation for the Earth’s natural environment.  There’s a time for action, attention, and regulations, but awareness can come from seeing what we have and what we would like to maintain (or improve).  That’s what our Earth Day road trip was all about for this time.

Fun fact: Did you know there is a town in Oregon called Halfway?  The population is listed as 310.  You know what the latitude of Halfway is?  You can probably guess that it’s darn near 45 degrees.  You’d be right!  It’s 44.8783° N.

Maybe I have to plan another road trip and go all the way to Halfway!

This was our part of the planet for yesterday.  Earth.  Take care of it . . . but enjoy it too.

Happy Earth Day!

Goodnight and I are taking a Sunday drive to find some geological markers that mark the 45th parallel – halfway between the Equater and the North Pole . . . on this good old Earth of ours.

While we are away for the day, have a look at where we are headed.  I marked the spot by placing a red star on an image of the world cake I made for Dona Nobis Pacen 2011.

Will be back later with photos – I hope.

Peace

A Promise Kept – to myself and to a blog buddy.

Hey Phil!!!!  Hellooooooooo!  I finally baked some bread! 

When Angel was growing up, I baked two loaves of bread every week.  No matter what other chores I had to do, I started the bread first.  It was just part of the routine . . . because that’s what my mother did.  Only in her case, it was eight loaves every Saturday morning.

I got away from that when I married Officer Friendly, and frankly didn’t have the time.  That was particularly true when Goodnight moved in with us.

A while back I was reading on of my regular blogs, and was highly influenced to try my hand at the bread-baking again.  It took some time to get to an unbusy (relatively speaking) Saturday morning on my calendar, but I promised myself I would try my hand for old time’s sake.

I’ve been swamped at work for weeks and GN’s schedule has been keeping me busy in the evenings.  But . . . this morning, I just woke up and decided I had the time and the energy to bake bread.  It’s all so worth the effort when the aroma gives away the secrets that the knife has yet to reveal.  Besides, the oohs and ahhs from the sippin’ sobber were worth it.

The bread wan’t done in time for breakfast, but it came out of the oven in time for our – lunch dessert.  There’s a good bit of the loaf left.  Bring your favorite spread and join us.  We had lingonberry jam.

“We grabbed my grandma and threw her in first.”

My granddaughter has been working on a project at school.  It is an interdisciplinary project, so the students work on it during any of their classes through the day (except gym).

The idea is that Earth has been destroyed and surviving inhabitants have to relocate to another planet.  The students must establish a civilization using science, language, math, logic, government, etc. to help them flourish after the devastation of their previous existence.

I think the project has been enlisting some interesting technology, nothing to thumb one’s nose at these days.  They have to build virtual structures and then write blog entries about their progress and participation in the civilization.

Goodnight asked me if she could read her initial blog post to me.  The students’ first entry related to the destruction of Earth, what they were doing at the time, what they grabbed to take with them, and how they escaped.

I sat back to listen to what GN had written.

GN: My friend and I were throwing a softball back and forth when we heard a massive explosion.  I looked at my friend, expecting her to laugh, but she looked scared instead.  She looked at a point above my head a screamed.  I twirled around and looked in the same direction.  There was a massive black hole about to suck us up!  We grabbed my grandma and threw her in first just to see what would happen  . . .

When I heard the last few words I burst into laughter at my expendability as Earth was destroyed.  Goodnight was the true scientist.  I suppose one doesn’t get close to a black hole often enough to be able to investigate what happens when something or someone gets sucked in.  I laughed out loud some more at her creativity.

Gram: You threw me in?  That was nice of you.  Did I at least get to take any knitting with me?

GN: Gosh, Gram!  I didn’t write that.  I was just pulling your leg.

More laughter from me.  Her spontaneous wit was worth getting tossed into a virtual black hole.

That granddaughter of mine is such a pixie.