Two great things have happened this week. It is official, I got over 75 hits to my blog in one day which means that at least one person reading this is not a blood relative and Jon turned 34 on Sunday. He let me read his journal from when we first started dating just the other day. On his 25th birthday he wrote, “I like apples. I love Delanie.” I love that man. Nobody could make me crazier and no one could give me the giggles more than Jonathan David Fessler. We went out for dinner Saturday night and here he is crying over his donut sandwich and microbrew about how lucky he is and how much he loves his boys. What a softy. We’ve been together going on 10 years. We met through my brother and my cousin who both told him I would never say yes if he asked me out. Guess I have a thing for stinky guys with big beards who live in their cars.
Imagine that you’ve been married to someone for over 65 years. How cool is that?( Provided that you like them and all that good stuff.) My mom’s folks have been married that long. They met in high school, she was wearing a pink sweater at a dance and he liked the way she looked. If you could imagine an archetype for parents-o- babyboomer grandparents mine are pretty darn close. Grandpa looks like Popeye. I used to say I wanted to be tall and bald when I grew up, just like my grandpa. Well, I’ll never be tall and I’m not bald, except for a few unfortunate months sophomore year of high school.
They have four kids, ten grandkids, and (hold on I’m trying to count on my fingers here…) thirteen great-grandchildren. I’m sure someone will let me know if my math is off here. I had lunch with my mom, grandparents and my Great Aunt Teenie last week and my mom was remarking on how much her heart just grew when she had grandkids and my grandpa remarked about how much love he had in his heart for all of his grand kids and great grandkids. What a softy.
When you put Teenie and Grammy in a room together they have a tendency to get silly. They are sisters after all and only a year apart. They were comparing scars on their arms and Teenie said hers darn well should be bigger, why, I’m not sure. They are both super creative and thrifty and all those good things that ladies who grew up in the Depression tend to be. Teenie saves artsy magazine articles for me and when I graduated from high school she gave me a pack of paper dolls with a note that said “it’s too easy to be a grown up all the time…” Grammy has the mind of an architect and a designer. She has drawings and plans for mountain houses they’ll never build. She is a perpetual crafter just like the rest of us and you are sure to take home some yarn, fabric scraps or a pattern or two whenever you visit. Love those ladies. I could write a book on how fab all the ladies I’m related to really are; the quilter and silk artist, the producer, the writer, the teacher, the nurse, all of them, really really great mommas. Even the younger ones are super creative awesome little beings; jokesters, a dancer, a quilter, an industrial designer.
There are more than a few great things about having a giant Irish family. A small Thanksgiving dinner has about 25 people (just don’t let Uncle Bill make the gravy…) Someone is always there to pick you up when you fall down. Someone will always come to your opening , your game, your whatever-it-is special occasion. There will always be someone to say something nice about you and the door to Grammy’s pantry is always open. Oh, and more likely than not, at least five of them are willing to play croquet no matter what the weather is like.
Sniff, tears. I love that crazy bunch. I’m not sure what I’m getting at, except that I can only hope that when I’m 85, we’ll get to hang out in the mountains and drink pots of coffee with my kid’s kids while their kids play.
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