Orbiting the Edges

It's sort of strange, not to be the "hub" of my family anymore.  So many years I was and now--just on the fringe.

My Daddy was the center of the family for a very long time.  The man never visited anyone.  If you wanted to see him, you drove out to his house for a visit.  Better not ever miss a Christmas Eve at his house (of course it HAD to be at his house) or he would not be too subtle about how you ruined Christmas Eve because your "absence was certainly noticed."

My parents were raised with quite a bit of guilt and so was I.  I would never disobey my Daddy--even when I was 70 years old!  I made sure, even when I lived 50+ miles away, that I got down to visit him every month.  The couple of days he was in hospital and then the four days he was in Hospice, we traveled up to sit all day in his room--80 mile round trip.  Even though the last three days, he was not aware of anything, we were still there because...well, because we were supposed to be there.

At his visitation and funeral, we were there all day, dressed in our best dresses, the men with shirt and tie, because...well that is just the way it is done.  It would have been a disgrace to him and all our ancestor's if we had not.

Now here I am.  The eldest one in the family.  The Grand Dame (yeah, right) the Matriarch (sure).  Not a single one of my children come to visit monthly--rarely call.  They have not made a trip (12 miles) to come see Mom's Christmas tree or decorations.  Pam came yesterday only because I told her that  while she was in this area, checking on Jen's house and feeding the pets, would she please stop over so I could give her the food.

How come my kids don't feel one teeny, tiny bit of guilt?  Because I raised them not to be.  Because I raised them to be independent and....apparently I did too good a job!!

So on Christmas Eve, there I will sit.  Will there be grandchildren gathered on the floor around my knee to hear my sage advice?  HAH!  The event will last four hours, if we are lucky, than some will run off to Mass and I will have to leave because I can't drive after dark.

I am no longer the hub--I usually feel more like a "nub" just sticking out a bit on the fringe of all the family activities.  Sort of quietly orbiting out there on the edges.
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I posted this on Face Book this morning for, "Throw Back Thursday."

"Early December 1969, Daddy asked Mother what she wanted for Christmas.  She sang, “A partridge in a pear tree.”  A week later, as Daddy was harvesting the last of the corn, he found a dead, frozen partridge laying in a corn row.  He put it in a box and stored it out in the shed to keep it frozen.  He came down to my house, cut a branch off the pear tree and wired the partridge onto it.  On Christmas Eve, Daddy presented the nicely wrapped box to Mother.  When she opened it, she hooted and laughed and said, “Next year I’m asking for ‘five golden rings’ ”.  That’s the way our parents were.  Always kidding and fooling around.  Gag gifts every year.  Much laughter in our home, all the time."

My Daddy was bald at a very young age.  The result of a dandruff treatment he had used--killed all the hair follicles on the top of his head.  He hated being bald!  The year before this pix of Mother, she cut my hair for me in early December.  

"Gosh your hair grows fast. Look at all that hair on the floor!" she said.  Then, "Hm-mm, I have an idea."

She took an old nylon stocking.  Cut off the thigh part and sewed a seam across the top opening.  Then she took my cut-off hair and glued it onto the "skull cap" stocking.  On Christmas Eve, Daddy opened his present and there was his wig.  So funny--there he sat with a band of black hair around the back of his lower head and a blonde wig, covering his bald spot.

My parents were so goofy.  They were always joking and laughing.  They were so sappy in love--like they were in their own little kissy, huggie world and I was just sort of orbiting around the edge.

She looks so healthy in this photo, but she was dead within three months, at age 53.  The day she died, the laughter went out of our family.
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Today I went to our Class Mates monthly luncheon--or as I like to think of it, the meeting of the Old Broads.  I drove up to Byron and parked my car in the church parking lot and met Bethie and she drove on up to Owosso--at least a 40 mile trip for both of us--and it sure was nice to ride along together and chat.

We ate at a new restaurant.  An Italian place, but they didn't have Antipasto salad.  A couple of the girls got pizza and it looked real good.  Everyone liked the food--mine was terrible.  I got Nachos and there may have been 1/4 cup of beef on them and perhaps as much melted cheese and tasteless.  I thought the lunch prices were pricey, but a friend picked up my tab, so............

Then we always try and figure out where we are going to meet next month and no one can decide, or rather, we all try and let someone make the decision for us.  Today, I mentioned going back to a place sort of the middle of where we all live and where I know, I can get a really great plate of Nachos or a huge tasty Antipasto salad and when I said that--one of the girls said, "Oh No!  They changed their menu and I hate it there."

Okay--except, this woman is NOT even one of our classmates!  She is our friend's sister and is 7 years younger than us and personally?  I don't see how she even gets a say in where we eat!!!  So there.

Well anyway, "they" are going to figure out where to go and let the rest of us know.  Maybe I'll go, or maybe I won't.  Like Beth said, "Maybe we will just figure, I'm bored with you women and we won't go until spring."

I feel the same way.  I would much rather get together every 3 months--even every other month would be okay.  That's why I don't go every month.  Nothing new because none of us have very exciting lives and if perchance, you had something interesting to say, the one who talks too much wouldn't shut up or would change the subject in the middle of your interesting news!

The more I go to these lunches, the more I realize why most of them weren't in the group of friends (6) that I ran around with in high school. 

Anyway, today was nice.  Some of the friends are getting bald.  Some are getting mentally weird.  Some are a tad deaf and some talk way too loud and too much.  Some are just as steady and quiet as they have always been.  All of us are old--those tell-tale signs of droopy eyelids and that deepening crease from nose around mouth to chin.

Most of us hate getting old, but we all seem to be pretty healthy so, we may be getting together until we are in our 90's.  Of course, you never know.  One day you are here and the next day...you aren't.

  The one in the back row, far right is the younger sister.  She isn't even 70 yet--looks as old as us, doesn't she?  

By the Way--I am NOT standing on a stool.