Queen B

Archive for the ‘They're… family?’ Category

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Button

In Big time stuff, The little roomies, They're... family? on May 18, 2012 at 5:28 pm

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There’s a new addition to the family today! My girl CC went and got herself a parrotlet and named it Button.

Right now she is settling into her new surroundings, but I see her being a great pet. When we tried to put her in her cage, she flew right back out to be with CC (even though her wings were clipped just this afternoon…??). It’s a good sign, and of course the girl isn’t complaining, considering we were supposed to let the bird settle in for a few days before trying to handle it.

Should be a wild ride!

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Rock out

In Badass Ideas, Serious Fun, They're... family? on February 26, 2011 at 9:31 pm

My darling husband made an appearance at the open mic night at our local Borders this Friday.  I love his original stuff, but sometimes a girl’s gotta make a request.

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Ditka and mini Ditka

In The little roomies, They're... family?, Who comes up with this stuff? on January 17, 2011 at 12:27 pm

In case you didn’t know, the Bears won their playoff game against the Seattle Seahawks on Sunday.  In a big way.

Prior to that, there were a number of outlets giving away playoff tickets to willing fan participants.  You know what I mean… radio stations, stores, television programs find people who are willing to do funny/crazy/humiliating things for a chance to attend a game in 12 degree weather in Chicago.  Ever wonder where they find those people?

Well……… apparently they find them at my house.  Because we’re THOSE kind of people.

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Again

In Photography, They're... family? on January 12, 2011 at 4:06 pm

I don’t mean to bring everybody down, but I cried at work today, again.

My cousin had posted pictures on Facebook from my aunt Joan’s post service “gathering” at the bar.  Theme, here?  Yea, that’s what we do.

Anyhow, when I saw the pictures, I realized that it was the last time I saw my Uncle Hooks in person before he died, it was the last time we spoke in person, and the last time we spoke at all without any yelling.   I knew where he had sat when we were there, and I looked through all of her pictures to see if he was in any of them.  I found one.  A cute smiley photograph of myself, my cousin (Hooks’ daughter), my husband, my Godmother (and old friend of the family), and another friend of the family and long-time friend to Hooks, all sitting together.  Hooks is there, barely visible.  In the background, behind a pane of glass, talking to someone I don’t know and smoking a cigarette.

In a split second, all the same old feelings came rushing back to weigh heavily upon me.  Anger, guilt, sadness, loss, despair.  I wished that I had been the one sitting there talking to him instead of smiling at the camera across the room.  I couldn’t stop the tears from coming.  Dammit.  It did nothing to help turn around my reputation at work as “the crier,” and I’ve been working on that for two years now.

Then I pulled my shit together, and decided that I shouldn’t be looking at Facebook at work, anyhow.

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Doing the bump

In Random nonsense, They're... family? on December 28, 2010 at 10:16 pm

I hesitated to post anything lately, because with every post, my uncle Hooks got closer to being bumped from the home page.  I had deleted his last message from my phone a couple of weeks before he died, and it was a tiny bit comforting to see his face on my blog as I remember him in happy times.  I very much miss the Hooks of happy times, but I guess I’ve been missing that for many years.

Anyhow… so I’m posting and he’s officially bumped, apparently.  Time to stop dwelling, I guess.

My Christmas was much better than expected.  The family sort of cancelled our regular tradition of spending Christmas Eve together, and we branched off and spent the holiday with our immediate families in smaller clusters.  From what I’ve heard, everyone was pleasantly surprised that they still had a nice holiday.  Maybe in the future we can all come back together, but I’m learning that you never know what the future will hold for you, especially when it involves family!

Tomorrow is the final day of Family Week for me.  We are having a Thanksgiving do-over at my mom’s house before my brother leaves with his family to go back home to Rhode Island on Thursday morning.  It will be a bittersweet day.  I can’t remember if I’ve stopped crying every time he leaves again or not, since it’s been so many years he’s lived out of state now.  Judging by how I feel at the moment thinking about it, I’m gonna guess no.  I’ll sure give it the old college try to keep a dry eye.

Hmmm.  I think I’m a poet!

Tonight we purchased a family Mega Millions ticket, hoping it will make the next visit come sooner when we win.  My husband has also declared that he will be buying a Bentley.

He will not.

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For Hooks

In They're... family? on December 11, 2010 at 11:38 am

Hooks

I wasn’t fortunate enough to know the Hooks that my grandmother knew, sweet, charming, perfect and adorable, with a little bit of the devil in him.  The Hooks that my mother and my aunts and uncle knew, funny, protective, and adventurous.  My kids will never know the Hooks that I knew.  He was a force.

He was really present when I was growing up. He was my mom’s best friend, and could be her worst enemy, the older brother who was both protective and demanding.  But he was always there with us, for us. To me he was half parent-half friend, and he would give me more shit than anyone, but most times I knew it came from a good place and I would never admit that he was usually right.  He was like that with everything – he always gave a whole lot of good with a little bit of bad, just to keep you on your toes.

I remember one time when he took me camping as a child, but only brought baked beans and potatoes to eat, knowing that I hated both.  It was classic Hooks, but having that time with him was worth going to sleep hungry.

He was honest to the point of being brutal.  He would ALWAYS tell it like it is, no matter how anyone felt about it.  Even if no one was asking. But his intentions were always good.

I was proud to call him my uncle, and I loved it when people would say, “You’re related to Hooks?  Wow, I love Uncle Hooks!”  I’ve heard stories about people being lifted off their feet against a wall for speaking ill of my mom or I, not realizing the company they were in.  It always made me laugh, as wrong as that sounds, but I knew that he was on my side and that was a good feeling.

He had really high expectations.  So did I.  We never quite saw eye to eye on that one.

We put his canoe in Busse Lake on one of the windiest days of the summer when I was probably 10 or 11 years old, and he made me paddle that canoe around for what seemed like hours, while it looked like he was getting a leisurely ride, steering from the back.  When we finally made it back to shore, I was rewarded by having to help him hoist that 150 lb canoe over my head on to the top of the rig on his Jeep.  I was probably 4 feet tall and 70 pounds soaking wet, but with Hooks there was no questioning whether or not I had it in me.  He always had enough faith in me for the both of us.  And in all of us.

He was really smart.  I don’t know that he got enough credit, but the man was a real intellect. He was an avid reader, and remembered everything. He was just a wealth of information.  He could have an interesting and LONG conversation about anything, and he usually knew more about any subject than I did. Even with my fancy college degree and everything.

He was loving, and he had a heart of gold, even when you were on the outs, and lot of us were on the outs a lot of the time, including me.  When he saw you, he would still give you a kiss and a hug, and tell you that he loved you.  His hugs are something I will never forget.  His love for his family always took precedence over hard feelings.  Always.  He never forgot to say, “I love you” when he left a message on your phone.  Even if he called you three times and left three messages, all within a few minutes of each other.

He was generous.  If you needed something, he would find it and lend it to you.  If he didn’t have it, he would get it.  It didn’t matter if he had to call in a favor or inconvenience himself.  And if what you needed was help, he was the first one to lend a hand, no matter if it was babysitting, painting your house, giving you a lift, doing your laundry, or driving the bobcat, so long as you repaid him with a hot meal or a cherry pie.

When I had my son, Hooks came to my house with my mom just to help me out.  He ended up sorting socks and folding laundry for hours, just so that I could get some rest.  He could be so kind and selfless.

He was happy.  Even with all of his problems, he would greet you with a smile, offer you a seat, and tell you a story or two if you had a minute. Being surrounded by people was his favorite way to be.

There were a lot of fun times with Hooks, whether it was a big birthday party for the kids, a pig roast in the backyard, driving aimlessly on the country roads in his Jeep, camping, or sitting in the swing watching the ducks, everyone was welcome and he was glad to have us all.  A friend of my mom always says “You have to be fun to have fun.” and Hooks had A LOT of fun, and it was almost always contagious.

I can still hear him calling me to join in on the family volleyball game at our summer parties.  “Beck!  Come ON!!  We need one more player.  No, really, come on!”  It didn’t matter that I said no, it didn’t matter that I hated volleyball.  When I finally came to play, which I always did, he would give me a slap on the back and say “ Alright, let’s go!”

I loved my uncle deeply.

I saw an email the other day and it had a line in it that said “You cannot create in another’s life against their will” and it made me think about Hooks, and his life, and our relationship.  Hooks wasn’t perfect.  Everyone knows that he wasn’t, but that email made me wish I hadn’t wasted so much energy trying to create in his life, and more energy appreciating it for what it was and being a better part of it.  I’ll have to make peace with that eventually.

Hooks was a good man, he loved us all without question, and I will miss him.

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The Other One

In Healthy shmealthy, The little roomies, They're... family? on November 14, 2010 at 6:45 pm

When I blog about running, it’s usually about running with my daughter.  In reality, I run with BOTH of my children on most days.  The reason my daughter gets more press than my son?

  1. My son was already a runner, and so the running we’ve done to date has been below his skill level.
  2. He can run faster than us.
  3. He can run farther than us.
  4. He usually runs farther and faster than us.
  5. Occasionally he skips while we’re running, and he’s still faster than us.
  6. Sometimes he laps us.
  7. He could lap us while skipping.
  8. When he alternates between skipping and running backwards, I think maybe he’s mocking me.  If I could catch him I would tickle him within an inch of his life and see how fast he could run then.
  9. The running that CC and I do isn’t exactly a challenge for him, unless you count running too slowly for your fitness level a challenge.
  10. He’s older.
  11. I didn’t really think about what I was doing, as usual.

The reality is that my son is a natural athlete.  He has a really nice gait, an easy effortless looking stride, great coordination, and stamina to spare.  Sometimes, I have a moment of clarity and realize that just because it seems to come naturally to him doesn’t mean that it is actually easy for him.  He works hard just like we do, and he deserves a little recognition as well.  He is just as committed as my daughter and myself.  Maybe more so.

I didn’t mean to go on and on about the young ‘un and neglect to mention the efforts of my eldest.  He was our inspiration.

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Big Bad Birthday

In Big time stuff, The little roomies, They're... family? on October 22, 2010 at 7:58 am

I feel like so much happened at once over the summer that I forgot to blog about half of it.  I guess it’ll have to get me through the winter.  Yes, I spoke it.  Winter.  It’s coming, people.  Get a grip.

One thing I forgot to mention was my awesome day in the Big City for my 40th birthday celebration with my parents.  We had a great day at Navy Pier.  We had a wonderful all-shrimp lunch at Bubba Gump’s restaurant (my favorite movie themed restaurant of all time), I took boatloads of pictures, we sat in the Atrium while the kids played with their helicopter toys from the Children’s Museum store, we watched the planes doing their trial run for the Air and Water Show, and we went on a tall ship.  I picked the ship.  My kids would’ve had me on the giant speedboat racing around at 95 mph land speed.  Not today my friends.

This ended up being one of my absolute favorite pictures of the day.  I can’t say exactly why.  I do love it so.  For the record, the tall ship sailboat ride is entirely too short.  Just when you get the sails up, it’s time to take them back down.  For some reason I thought we would actually, you know, sail.  Duh.  It’s probably best anyhow, we ate the giant shrimp lunch BEFORE the boat ride.

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Broken

In They're... family? on September 26, 2010 at 11:31 am

My mom’s sweet little dog, Haley, was attacked by an american bulldog recently.  Not just any american bulldog, but the pet of a family member.  I had mistaken it for a pit bull.  Because, aside from the extra skin, it looks just like a pit bull.  Even wikipedia says so.

Everyone is sick over it, but Haley is OK.  Luckily, the other dog caught Haley by the lower jaw and there were people around to pry her off.  It broke her lower jaw (right down the middle at the front) and she had to have surgery, but it could have been much, much worse.  We’re all thankful that it happened right under everyone’s feet, so the response to the situation was IMMEDIATE.  Anyhow, Haley has some pins in her lower jaw, and the bone was wired together.  Aside from the fact that she has a really sharp wire coming out of her skin under her “chin” that really catches you sometimes and hurts like hell, you’d never know that anything happened.

The photographs are deceptive, they make it look as if she’s calmed down a bit.  Do not be fooled.  She hasn’t.  And she will cut you.

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I am not touched

In Photography, They're... family? on July 3, 2010 at 10:20 am

Maybe I mentioned there’s been some loss in my family lately.  Really, you must have noticed.  No?  Well, good.  It’s probably best.

I like to photograph things.  Maybe even things that other people might not want to photograph?  Funerals.  Hospital rooms.  Yeah, I do.  I took some photographs at my husband’s great uncle’s burial because I always love the pomp of a serviceman’s burial.  I tried to be respectful.

He was in the Air Force during WWII.  The service man and woman who came to the service had taps on the insides of their shoes so that when they came to attention there was a loud sound as their heels snapped together.  I liked that.  She played the bugle horn while he presented the American Flag to the widow.  Yes,I have my limits.

The cemetary was AH. MAZ. ING.  Holy Sepulchre Cemetary in Alsip, IL.

Old, green, well maintained, lush, and HUGE.  I could spend the day there.  I wish we had brought paper and my husband’s etching charcoals.  It seems like it would be depressing to spend the day in a cemetary, but it was peaceful and pretty and quiet (even though I had my daughter with me…. shocking).

I visited an interesting grave or two.  The late Mayor Richard J. Daley is buried there along with other members of the Daley family.  Also, the grave of Mary Alice Quinn, considered to be Chicago’s ‘Miracle Child,’ where I prayed for healing for myself and others.

I brought her a rose to the grave, as had a couple of other people.  Mine is the shortest one.  Yes, her grave smelled strongly of flowers.  As far as we could see, there was no source of the smell.  The roses already at the grave were old and not strongly scented.  There were no live flowers nearby on any of the other graves, and we could find no flowering trees or shrubs within eyeshot.  Either you believe in that sort of thing, or you don’t.  I’m not touched, we all smelled it.  Strangely, a friend phoned me out of the blue as I was walking up to the grave, which reminded me to pray to Mary on her behalf.  A friend who could use a miracle healer of the spirited variety if one is available, and who hadn’t phoned me in a very, very, very long time.  As my woes are minor in comparison, I hope that Mary is watching over her instead if it comes down to an either/or situation.  I visited her grave with an open but skeptical mind, and when I smelled flowers, I truly imagined that someone sprayed something on the grave to perpetuate the urban myth surrounding her spirit.  When I strongly smelled roses in my home and vehicle on four different occasions later in the day, maybe I became less a skeptic and more a believer.  No, I have not experienced miracle healing.  Maybe I didn’t need it.

No matter what you believe, it was a beautiful place that I look forward to visiting again.  I’m sure that I can find plenty of noteworthy grave sites to visit in addition to the family plots of my husband’s family.  And Mary’s, of course.

Yes, I will bring a rose every single time.  Maybe I’ll pray for you, too.

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