A few weeks ago my grandmother died - she was my last grandparent alive. Strangely enough, it was around this time last year when my other grandmother passed. Even though the time of year was similar - the situation was almost exactly its inverse. You see I had a relationship with my other grandma, but this grandma was a different story altogether. I didn't cry. I didn't even feel all that sad. I felt bad for my mentally disabled aunt who has never been without her. Other than that, that was it.
My main memories of of grandma growing up was her watching TV - soap operas, country music videos - you know, the CLASSICS. I don't remember really engaging with her all that much at all. She lived about two hours away but I can count the times she came to visit us (twice, I think). The last few years when we would visit, there she was in her apartment, watching TV, ALL DAY LONG. It felt like she wasn't even living.
Sometime last year I asked her about how she met my grandfather (who died when I was 5) and asked her about how she liked living in D.C. at the time. She quickly told me she didn't like it at all. As she was born and bred in the country I asked her if it was because the city was too big and busy, etc. No, she told me, she didn't like it because there were too many black people. At that point, I reminded her that she was about to have a black grandchild. She said she did. She also did not like the home healthcare worker who came by they said she talked too much but when pressed, both my aunt and grandmother said it was because she was black. They also thought she was stealing their toilet paper (this coming from the tandem that clogged their toilet numerous times).
We would suggest taking a walk on a beautiful day - but she only let us take her once. She stayed in-doors like some kind of troll. I should clarify, she didn't look like a troll (at least not anymore than old people generally do) it was as if she didn't want to see the sunlight or be removed from her 'cave'. Maybe it hurt too much to see what she was missing. It's hard to understand how some people chose to see the world and others. I hope if I am lucky enough to be "old" one day, I want to embrace the journey with openness, love and with a healthy dash of carpe deim.
In other news....
I am in the beginning stages of planning a study abroad next summer to Peru. We already have 5 students who are really excited about it (we have to have 10 signed up for the class). So, it's pretty amazing. Do I feel guilty that I will be away from the fam for weeks? Yes, almost crushingly so....BUT when I think of it like this it makes me feel better:
It's a childhood dream to visit Machu Picchu.
I am getting paid to go to Peru for FREE (that's like + $6,000 when it's all said and done)
It will be an amazing learning experience for myself and the students
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| Well, there it is. One of the few places in the world that inspired me as a child (the other magical place was the pyramids at Giza). I remember opening my sixth-grade social studies book and seeing this classic picture. I sat staring that the picture, looking at the ruins, imagining myself walking through the rooms, among the clouds. I thought it was one of the coolest things I had ever seen. Funny how your memories work because when I remember this picture I remember exactly where I sat in the class and where the girl I had a crush on sat in relation to me. |
Anyway, it will be instant guilt after the first two days (first 2 days I think I will be too overwhelmed to feel bad about what's happening back home).
Thinking about writing a post about Weezer's red album. It's such a strange album. It's equally amazing and frustrating. Some songs are downright stupid and some moments are actually quite beautiful. It's the most ambitious recording session since the 90's and yet it's completely lacking in thoughtfulness in it's track selection. In summary, it's the perfect "post-pinkerton" Weezer album.
Obligatory comment about how the semester is almost over. Hooray.
Because my wife works one day a week, that means I pretty much need to be full-time in the summer. Sometimes I wonder what amazing things I could do with a whole summer off (thinking about writing that children's series again) but we just can't have me NOT work for a vanity project that will likely end in failure. Besides, summer school is great. Better students, it's quiet around the campus and office, less committee work and meetings, etc. and we have Fridays off. Just like most things in life a little bit of sweet with sour. Which also remind me of a post that's been kicking around in my head about Buddhism, Suffering, Vicktor Frankel, Jesus and Vanilla Sky (with a cameo appearance by William Shakespeare himself ladies and gents).
Lastly, almost two months ago I was raking the leaves in the back yard as the sun was setting. The sun's rays hit me, coming through the branches of our old Oak trees and it hit me. A moment of mindfulness and clarity. I was alive. I cursed in my wonderment of my very existence, the size and wonder of the sun and the smallness of my own life, concerns and existence. And then it passed. It's moments like those that make me sure I am actually alive and not dreaming.
See ya next time, kids!
