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Mi Familia Es Tu Familia
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Mi Familia Es Tu Familia |
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Richy Member Elite
since 2003-05-03
Posts 3050
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Well this story is about my father‘s family. Not my birth father who passed away in 1964, when I was six, but my stepfather who my mother married, five years after my dad had died. They moved to Oregon state in 1980. Just in time for the Mt. St. Helens eruption. Nice welcome huh? My mother and all of us six kids had lived in California, where I still do, but now every one of my brothers and my one sister live up in Oregon, close to my parents. One day, I got some real bad news, and well, this story is the result of that... It’s called: Mi Familia es tu Famila My Step Father was brought up in Massachusetts. Pronounced: Mass-a-choo-sets (gesundheit). He often referred to it as, “Old Mass.” But when he got out of the service he ended up in California. Lucky for us. He had some kin in these parts. I recall my Uncle Bill and my Aunt Mary and all their cute daughters and cousin Kenny who was the only boy. We’d go over to their house for barbeques and other family gatherings. I remember one time we spent the day at the beach together. They were very pleasant and I always enjoyed going over there and visiting with them. I also remember my Uncle Art and Aunt Dolores. They lived a few houses down the street from Uncle Butch and Aunt Mary. They to, were also very warm and generous. Not thinking about it much until now, since I haven’t seen them in over 25 years, these people opened up their hearts to us. To my Dad’s new family. I never once felt anything but warmth and kindness from them. It’s funny how you notice these kinds of things when you get older. I hope they are all well, and that life has brought them good luck and great health. I miss them, and I hope my Dad catches me up someday, on these warm and gracious folks from a time very long ago. And of course I could not fail to mention what a sweet and loving Mother my father had. Our dear Grandma Rudolph. She was so good natured and filled with life. It was always such a treat when she would visit us in California, from her home in Massachusetts. I remember playing cards with her, with this real little deck of cards she had. They were so funny to play with. Her eyes had a way of smiling when she talked to you, and she had a persona that always kept you captivated. I remember her telling me about her beloved New England. She’d say, “If you can live in any one of the 13 original States year round, that you could live anywhere.” Something about their blood being thicker, or something. Well if she says so, I believe her! She came across to me like a real survivor. You also always knew where you stood with Grandma to. She wasn’t the type to hold anything back. She wore her heart proudly on her sleeve. Gutsy and charming all at the same time, a real genuine lady. When I had heard of my Dear Grandma’s passing it saddened me very much. And although I hadn’t seen her in such a long time. I know deep down in my heart that when it’s my turn to cross. That waiting to greet me on the other side with the biggest smile and the biggest hug will be my Loving Grandma Rudolph. I bet she will welcome me in to sit, in a nice New England style type of log cabin. With wooden plank floors. And a loft overhead that could only be reached by a ladder made of Birch tree branches. It’s used for storage but doubles as a comfy retreat for visiting guests. It would be cold and blistery outside. A Nor'easter blowing out of the So’wester undoubtedly. But the fireplace would be crackling with the sound of a roaring fire, keeping the inside warm and toasty. The smell of homemade bread baking in a wood burning oven would fill the air, as would the smell of roast turkey and pumpkin pie. A large rustic pine table lined with a country style tablecloth would display tasty offerings of fresh creamery butter, a big canning jar full of homemade huckleberry preserves, some strawberry rhubarb Pies, and a tall ceramic decanter full of hot steaming cider. And perhaps a small jug with a couple X’s on it would adorn the sideboard to keep Jack Frost from nipping at your nose. And of course a big pot of strong black coffee, to mix it with. A big ironclad pot hanging on a rod near the fire would be simmering. Full of heavy cream, cherrystone clams, new potatoes or maybe some turnips, some celery, onion, carrots, maybe some corn, a hint of parsley and salt and pepper to taste. With the biggest wooden spoon you ever seen, with burn marks all over it hanging on a nail nearby. We would hug for what seemed like a lifetime but all would be quiet. The gaze in our eyes would say it all. My Dear Grandma would take my snow covered over coat and tell me to place my boots by the black pot bellied stove. She would then welcome me to her table and serve me a big hearty serving of chowder stew in one of those really cool wide and low soup bowls that Dad had, with the saucer underneath. Along with a handful of those little oyster crackers I was so fond of. And a big frothy mug of hot chocolate, the melted marshmallows spilling over the top. I would take one bite and think... No... I would know, that I am now in Heaven. After that we’d clear the table and while away the hours playing Rummy. Reacquainting ourselves with one another, catching up on a lifetime’s worth of stories and dreams, and genuinely enjoying each others company. I sure hope she still has that tiny miniature deck of cards, they were so nice, and familiar... Just like, my Grandma... I can’t wait until the New England Fall... I hear the change of season is... Out of this world.... |
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| © Copyright 2003 Richy - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Marilyn Member Elite
since 1999-09-26
Posts 2621Ontario, Canada |
Beautifully told rememberances. This is a lovely little story that leaves the reader warm and comfortable. Thank you for the read. Marilyn |
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miscellanea Member Elite
since 2004-06-24
Posts 4060OH |
Richy, I found this when searching for a poem for which to respond. A mesmerizing write! In it, I see a little of my mother, my grandmother, and all the homespun women before me. You tell it perfectly, stimulating the senses to actually see, feel and taste. Thank you for sharing. ~miscellanea~ |
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