Dolly Mama Returns!

Is anybody still coming around these here parts? After such a long and abrupt absence I wondered about that.

So, where have I been? Ah, well, let's see....

My kids had spring break last week. We had discussed going on a trip, but ended up deciding that at $2.15 a gallon in a vehicle that gets about 14 miles to a gallon, that we would be better off staying at home. So, we gleefully planned an At-Home Vacation which would feature going to the children's museum, a movie, eating out at restaurants, going to an indoor adventure playground, and much, much more.

And what did we get?

Sick parents. Sick kids. (Thanks for all the candy, Easter Bunny!) Then, my grandfather died the night before Easter. He was 85 years old, was a strong Christian man, and died in his sleep. So, if you've got to go, that's the way to do it, eh? He had been in basically good health although it was declining in the last several months. He'll be missed, though.

So, I was then trying to figure out how I could make a trip from Kentucky to New York for the funeral. And lucky daddy Firecrapper had taken 2 days off from work to enjoy our big at-home vacation, was now looking at being at home for 2 days with 6 kids and a bad cold.

I had the good fortune (not) of finding an affordable flight, but it was departing at 6am. And of course they want you at the airport an hour early. And, uh, I live almost an hour from the airport. Uh huh.

So, Monday night I was scrambling around trying to pack and organize and get things set up as well as I could for my husband and the kids while I was gone. Then I enjoyed 4 hours of sleep before I got to get up and get on my way through thick fog to the airport. Yeah.

I had a long, boring layover in Chicago. Unfortunately, it was one of those layovers that is too long to be happy sitting in the airport, but not really long enough to be able to leave the airport and go do anything. So, my first visit to Chicago (and my second, the following day) was spent learning that there is no smoking allowed anywhere in the airport (I don't smoke, I just heard that announcement dozens of times), there is a Children's Museum there, and I found myself thinking about Oprah and wondering what she was up to, since Oprah is almost the only thing I know about Chicago. Very pathetic, I know. (Me sitting in the airport trying to use some mental telepathy: Oprah? Are you out there? Taping a show today? Coming through the airport? Come find me and I'll tell you about my No-lice Hair Spray! Give me a makeover! Or a car. Whatever you're in the mood for.....)

One thing that I learned during my time in airplanes and airports was that there is a desperate need for native English speaking people for the jobs that require speaking over loudspeakers. Talking into loudspeakers is notoriously difficult to understand, but when the person has a thick accent that sounds like English must certainly be a new language for them, it's just not a good situation. So, if you're out of work and can speak English better than the average computer tech support person, get on over to the airport. I bet they'll have something for you.

I had a very tense few minutes in Chicago when it was time for my plane to start loading. There was one of those barely-English announcements which seemed to amount to something like, "There are not enough passengers for this plane so sit tight because we are not taking you people anywhere." I asked the person sitting across from me for clarification, since he looked like he understood what was going on. After he explained to me the gist of the thing, my heart kind of sank because I had a very small window of time to get to NY and be at the funeral. He said to me, "Geez, I have an appointment at 2 o'clock." and I blurted out "I'm trying to get to my grandfather's funeral..." and then promptly burst into tears. I'm not usually the cry-in-the-airport kind of girl, but that hearty 4 hour sleep, 3am wake up, grandpa dying, and not feeling well had me fairly well strung out by that point. The poor guy looked like the felt pretty awkward. I thought about apologizing, but then I figured that was stupid too since of course somebody would cry if they thought they might miss their chance to be at their grandfather's funeral because of some stupid cheap airline. The man was very kind and said, "Oh, bless you."

Fortunately, a few minutes later the barely-English announcement came that we could board our plane. So, I wiped my tears and looked up to see some encouraging smiles from a few people who probably wanted me to stop crying before we got on the plane and they were stuck sitting next to me, and got my act together.

On my flight into New York my ears really took a beating from the descent. I think that I don't do well when the flights cruise at 33,000 feet. The ones that only go to 22,000 don't seem to bother me. Anyhow, despite me having gum to chew and knowing to swallow and all of that, my ears got intensely painful and stayed that way for about 20 minutes. Once we landed I had one ear stopped up to near-deaf, which lasted almost until the funeral.

One of the biggest things about going to the funeral was that I saw my father for the first time in 13 years. Strange but true.

I was very glad to be at the service and calling hours. I got a different picture of my grandfather's life than I knew. My grandparents had always gone to very traditional churches with hymns and everybody wearing suits and ties and pantyhose and dresses. After my grandmother died 7 years ago, my grandfather went to live with my aunt and uncle and their 2 children in a home in the same town. My aunt and uncle were in the process of starting a new church in their area that was geared toward people who had never been to church before. So, no hymns or pantyhose or ties around there too much. More like jeans and t shirts and guitars and drums. That was the kind of stuff that my grandmother never would have gone for in her lifetime. Yet, my grandfather decided to be open minded, check into it, and then got involved and made it his church home. I don't think he started wearing jeans or anything, but he just found a way to fit in as himself. He became the greeter, standing at the door welcoming people to church, meeting new people, helping them find their way to the nursery and classes and such.

So, at the calling hours there were tons of people from their church. My grandfather had meant so much to them. He was the friendly face each week when they showed up at church. More than one couple told me things like, "We weren't sure how we would like it, but decided to come give it a try. Your grandfather was right there to meet us and help us. The next week when we decided to visit again, he remembered every member of our family by name. That's the reason we kept coming. We knew somebody cared about us." Teenagers stood and shared about the impact my grandfather had made on them by befriending them, accepting them, teaching them things, and spending time with them in various ways. It was really neat to see all the ages of people who loved him. My grandparent's best friends for 43 years were also there and that was pretty sad since they had all been through so much together amd I'm sure it had to feel like a huge loss to them.

So, the moral of the story is that you can teach an old dog new tricks, it's never too late to grow and change, and you can just be yourself and still make a difference. I'm really glad I got to be there and hear all the great things that people shared about him.

The next day I had to get up at 5:15 am and do all the fun travel and layover and ear popping and Oprah-channeling, in reverse. Finally got home in the afternoon. ugh. Nap time!

Now, if you're very, very good, sometime in the next day or two I may check in and tell you about the wretched trip we took on Friday and Saturday to the Junior Bible Quiz state tournament! It's a story filled with frustration, folly, extreme boredom, and a little girl named Marie. You'll be sure to love it.

Ta ta til then!