“Unique Perspective”
I remember my mother, whose body had been ravaged by various medical procedures before she even turned fifty-six, saying, “As long as I have my mind, I can do this.” (“This” being “life.”)
As I rapidly approach a birthday celebration two decades longer than her life, I can concur. My body, like so many others born in the mid-twentieth century, reminds me daily of physical limitations unthought of back in the day when I was working at a frantic pace and enjoying nightlife with friends several times a week. Luckily, for the most part, my mind has yet to let me down.
Am I slower recalling Jeopardy! responses? Yes, but I’m at home in a recliner, not competing on the Alex Trebek stage with buzzer in hand. Lunching with a friend can I recall the title or author of the book I loved last week? Well, I’ll remember, eventually, and later that evening I’ll text her the details. But I was reminded this morning of the best part of being, more often than not, the oldest person in the room.
Amelia is five years old and my great nephew’s daughter (ergo my great-great niece). She was performing a dance recital in Pittsburgh at noon on Sunday. I had mentioned, via email a year ago, that I would love to see her perform and her parents remembered my request (from a year ago, right?) and sent me the Zoom link.
Curtain went up at eleven (PST 8 a.m.). I poured my morning cup of tea and turned on my computer. As luck would have it, the screen was blurred and all the little girls looked like an animated cartoon of Casper the Friendly Ghost. I texted her father who was in the audience who quickly filmed her recital and sent me the performance, all of five or six minutes. But that’s all it took for me to remember why it’s important to share the unique perspective only someone who has been in the family for decades can relate.
You see, I remember when Amelia was born, and I remember when her father was born, AND I absolutely remember when her Grandmother Kathy (my niece) was born! I was a senior at Duquesne University and took an all-night Greyhound bus ride from Pittsburgh to Newport Beach, Virginia. My sister Mary (Amelia’s Great Grandmother) had given birth while her husband was at sea, so Mary and I drove home the next day taking turns holding the baby. (Back then, car seats were not required.)
As I watched Amelia dance and sing along with the music, it triggered a memory of Kathy with her cousin Judy, fifty-two years ago, two preschoolers dressed as little lambs more than a little nervous about being on stage. Now, as I watched Amelia in a cute aqua dress, it reminded me of her grandmother; they shared a grace and animated enthusiasm for the music, always engaging the audience.
Life takes unexpected turns. Grandmother Kathy was gone far too soon, long before Carter married Carly and Amelia arrived. Great Grandmother Mary, also gone, loved to sing and dance and her love of performing is clearly passed on.
I guess I’m echoing my mother’s sentiments with a slight addendum: “As long as I have my mind, I can do this.” Not only can I do this, I have an obligation to share history that I have observed with those that have followed. The memories created in the past should live on and be treasured.