Christmas Time 2017

I used to live in the Southwest (El Paso, TX, Tucson, AZ, and Alamogordo, NM). I feel like the Southwest is most like "home" to me, even though I've lived all across the country.

But, since I no longer live there, I enjoy having little touches of the Southwest where we now live (eastern Iowa).

I have some chile* pepper lights, some Southwestern ornaments on the tree, and a Southwestern style ladder I'd gotten in Santa Fe way back in 2006.

*(Note, I didn't say "chili" pepper: "chili" is that stew-like meal with meat, sometimes beans, and chili powder spices, along with other ingredients. "Chile" is what you call the actual "chile peppers," such as jalapeño, Serrano, Hatch, habanero, etc.)

Anyway, I always like the glow of the chile pepper lights that I wrapped around my Santa Fe ladder.

I'm sitting in the kitchen with Jock and a cup of coffee, enjoying the Christmas lights and the Christmas tree, before the rest of the family gets up.

Dreaming of my Grandparents' Home

This morning, I think I was dreaming about being at my grandparents' home in El Paso, TX (their Mountain Walk Drive home, not the Blue Ridge Circle one) just before I woke up.

In that nebulous no-man's-land between dreaming and waking, I vaguely recall waking up in the spare bedroom at my grandparents' at breakfast time (never mind that I was usually awake well before breakfast). The scents of percolating coffee and frying bacon, the clink of utensils, the sunlight peeking through the edges of the window shade and curtains - I was certain that I was registering these stimuli as though they were actually filtering into my brain via my senses.

When I opened my eyes, I was genuinely surprised at finding myself in my own bedroom hundreds of miles away from El Paso, so sure was I that I'd awakened at my grandparents' home.

Needless to say, I've had a bit of "homesickness" lingering around me today, noticeable when I have time to sit down and take a moment to relax. I think the cloudy weather is partly to blame; overcast skies always spark a bit of blues and homesickness for the Southwest, where we usually have about 300 (or more!) days of sunshine.

Anyway, a week ago, I'd visited my parents. While I was there, my mom had given me an album of photos she'd organized after going through my grandmother's belongings and finding her many photos.

I was looking at these newly acquired pics this morning, and decided to share a few of particular interest to me after this morning's dream of waking up at my grandparents' place.

This first pic is of my grandmother. There's nothing written on the back. I'm going to assume she's not much more than one year old, if that? Circa 1925-1926.

This next pic is of me, at my grandparents' Blue Ridge Circle home. The back of the pic says "Aug. 1974 3 yrs. 9 mos." in Oma's handwriting. 

It looks like I've found one of Oma's perfumes. Or maybe it was my mom's, since it looks like Chanel No. 5, which is one of "her" perfumes.

So, I had to include this next one, simply because it looks like I was instructed to dab a little perfume behind my ear. Because that's how you wear it, right? I can see that the lid is on the coffee table next to me. (The same thing is written on the back of this pic.) I'm assuming my grandfather took both this pic and the previous one. 

A pic of my Uncle Ralph is on the table behind me. 

I definitely remember the glass-cube window in the foyer behind me.

This last pic, I'm sure, was taken by my grandfather, using my camera. This is in the backyard at the Mountain Walk Drive home - the same home I dreamed I'd woken up in this morning. 

I'm going to say this was taken in the early 2000s. There's nothing written on the back. I'm assuming I'd had this pic printed when I'd gotten home after visiting them, and then I sent it for them to keep. 

It's been fun looking through these "old" pics, some older than others, and finding ones I haven't seen before, or finding ones, I'd forgotten about.

On HAT's Birthday

I decided I needed to post something today, which would've been my Uncle Hector's 61st birthday.

His initials were HAT, but he would often "sign off" on emails, texts, messages to me as "UH" (for "Uncle Hector").

This past weekend, I was given a photo album of old photos. These pics had been my grandparents' but had been in my mom's possession after my grandparents passed away; my mom organized them and stuck many of them in an album for me.

In the album that she'd given me, I found a photo of my uncle that I don't remember having seen before.

On the back of this photo in my grandmother's handwriting, it says Nov 1974. "UH" would've been 19 years old in this pic.


I'm posting one more (this is one of my own photos that I'd taken myself); this one is of "UH" and Liv as they read a book together. This was in my grandparents' den, when we all happened to be visiting my grandparents in El Paso, TX.

He was in what I called his "Johnny Cash" period of dressing all in black (hence the "Man in Black"/Johnny Cash reference, LOL).  My grandmother once asked my uncle why he always dressed all in black. His response? With a chuckle, a shoulder shrug, and a smile, he said, "It's easy to always match."

Just Remembering

Today is my grandmother's birthday. She would've been 90 years old today.

So, in her honor, I'm posting a few of my favorite pics of her and the Southwest.

In no particular order:

The street where she and my grandfather used to live. I took this pic when we were there for her funeral.

 

Near her house - these are the Franklin Mountains, which she saw daily.

Liv, near a yucca plant at White Sands National Monument.

A dune at White Sands National Monument. My first visit to White Sands was with my grandparents, when I was very little.

Oma's birthday, 2011.

Me, my mom, and Oma, right around my college graduation, May 1993.

For HAT on 8 Mar 2014

For the man of many words, I'll leave it brief and let the photos speak for themselves; so here you go, Uncle. 

We miss you, too.

And because you and I both thoroughly enjoyed this movie, here's the trailer for Sherlock Holmes:

I DO Love Those Southwestern Mountains

Okay, I've been meaning to share a couple more photos of the Southwest, namely a few more mountain shots. These pics were taken while we were in El Paso and Alamogordo in November 2013.

Now, keep in mind, I took the pics while we were driving, so they aren't high quality shots. But they are still visual memories for me . . . until the next time I make it back "home," whenever that may be.

 My grandparents used to live not too far from the base of this mountain (the one with the noticeable "ridges" at the top). Needless to say, I saw these mountains (the Franklin Mountains) every day when I visited my grandparents in El Paso. Not knowing when I may be back in El Paso, and knowing that I probably wouldn't have a better chance at snapping a pic, I went ahead and took a shot while we were driving on US 54 in El Paso. Probably on our way back to Ft. Bliss.

I don't remember which day I took this pic (using my camera, not the iPhone), but it seems like it was midday. Probably, it was either the day of the visitation (Veterans' Day) or the next day (my birthday/Oma's funeral).

 

Now this next pic (also from the camera) was from Sunday, November 10, 2013, the day Andrew, Liv, and I had gone to White Sands National Monument. We'd spent pretty much the whole day in Alamogordo, NM, either visiting White Sands, or hitting some other "major attractions" while we were there, so Livie could see where we used to live. (The last time she was there, she was about 1.5 years old, and thus, doesn't really remember it.) 

 These are the Franklin Mountains, again, as we're heading southward on US 54 from Alamogordo, back to El Paso. As you can see, the mountain peak with the "ridges" on the top is the one near where my grandparents used to live. This was taken late in the afternoon, probably around 4:00-5:00 PM Mountain Standard Time. There was something about that time of day that made it feel like I was "going home" to my grandparents' house, even though we weren't. It was as though I was where I was supposed to be.

 Okay, so I've shared this pic of the Organ Mountains in a previous post about White Sands, but I really do love these mountains, so I'm sharing it again. 

We're obviously at White Sands National Monument. I had to stop and just stare at the Organ Mountains, trying to somehow lock in the moment: the sounds of the wind, the voices of Liv and Andrew as they explored, occasionally hearing other visitors' voices (or the faraway sound of traffic from miles and miles away) carried on the wind, the sound of local fauna (mostly birds), the scents - there's nothing quite as beautiful as the scent of the desert Southwest, the feel of the breeze on my skin, and the sun shining on me. I was trying my hardest to make this a visceral memory, not just the one I saved on my camera.

If you click on the pic, you'll be able to see a somewhat larger version of it. In the middle of the photo, you can see some jagged peaks. Those are the Organ Mountains, just bordering Las Cruces, NM. Once, long ago, a friend of my grandmother's told me that they were called the "Organ" Mountains because the jagged peaks looked like the pipes of an (instrumental) organ. Interesting, isn't it? I always love hearing "the rest of the story," to quote Paul Harvey.

A Toast to Oma on my Birthday

I've been meaning to sit down and write this post for the past couple days now, and something (laundry, dog training, violin lessons, or whatever) has always taken precedence. But I'm here now, so here it goes; let's see if I can put this into words. I'm sure there'll be a lot of words . . .

On November 4th, my grandmother passed away. So after quickly making plans and travel/lodging/rental car reservations, we arrived in El Paso, TX for the visitation and the funeral. (You can read my tribute to Oma here, the day of the funeral here, or some travel memories here.)

Well, the funeral ended up being on my birthday. What timing, right? It was such a sad, tearful way to spend a birthday, but as my youngest brother and I had discussed that day, it seemed like it was meant to be. It was like . . . well, it was like Oma was ensuring I had one more birthday "with" her in El Paso.

Because it was the day of my grandmother's funeral, I woke up, unsure if I wanted to be wished "Happy Birthday!" or sentiments such as "Hope you're doing something fun to celebrate today!" from family and friends (those friends who were unaware that the funeral was the same day). I was on edge from the start, knowing I would be participating in the funeral mass (I'd be reading the second reading) - I just wanted to get through the reading without crying or having a wavering voice (though that would've been understandable). I wanted a nice, strong, oratorical voice to celebrate Oma. 

While Livie, Andrew, and I were getting ready that morning, I'd mentioned something to the effect of, "Who knew this would be how I'd celebrate my birthday this year?" Andrew responded with, "Well, I want to tell you 'Happy Birthday!' but I'm not sure when would be a good time to say that."

I decided that it was an appropriate time (looking back, I think I really needed it then, so I'm glad he mentioned it), and thought that I would probably appreciate it even more later in the day once the funeral mass was over and we could have time to breathe. We were having a reception at a local hotel after the interment, and I knew that would probably be as good a time as any for birthday wishes.

All that morning, I was flip-flopping back and forth between being glad that friends (many of whom were oblivious to the day's events) were wishing me "Happy Birthday!" on Facebook, as the messages were a momentary pick-me-up under the circumstances, and irritated that not everyone had noticed my status update saying something about the funeral. 

There were a few, though, who knew just where I was and what I was doing, and offered words of support.

When we got to the church for the funeral, my great-aunt, María (the family calls her Naná) - Oma's sister - came up to me upon her arrival, and hugged me, telling me, "Happy Birthday, mija. I hope you celebrate later today. Go do something fun for yourself. Your grandmother would have wanted that." 

(Mija, by the way, is Spanish - it's actually a contraction of two words, mi hija, which literally translate to "my daughter" but are used as a term of endearment for a younger person in the family. Mija is pronounced kind of like "MEE-ha." My grandmother would say it to me, or my aunts who are of my grandmother's generation, and so forth. Mijo is the same, being a contraction of mi hijo, or "my son," and obviously used for males.)

When Naná told me that, I knew exactly what I wanted to do. I wanted to go out to dinner with Livie and Andrew later that evening, and I knew just the place. I just had to get through the morning's events. 

When we walked into the church, I suddenly thought, though, that I didn't know how I was going to make it through the morning. Luckily, my cousin Bonnie was right next to me. I had seen her crying silently out of the corner of my eye. I knew then, that I couldn't bear to keep from crying much longer, so I grabbed her hand and held it tighter than I'd ever held anyone's hand before. At some point, I was sure that I was hurting her, and quietly apologized for the vise-like grip. She shook her head and said, "You're not hurting my hand. I need that support." 

She was doing the first reading, and told me later that she needed that hand squeeze just as much as I needed to squeeze her hand. I was so grateful for her calming presence. 

By the way, I did a great job of doing the second reading during the funeral mass. Livie mentioned something later about how calm I sounded, and that it seemed like I spoke in public like I was used to it, and was quite practiced at it - a clear voice ringing out so that everyone could hear.  It was probably the best compliment I'd received in some time. 

However, there was one point during the service - after my reading - when I glanced at my Mom and my Uncle Ralph. The "dam suddenly broke" and I couldn't help it - I started crying - you know that jagged, can't-catch-your-breath type. While Oma was my beloved grandmother, she was their mother. And that thought while looking at the two siblings triggered "the flood." My uncle's wife, my Aunt Gloria was hugging me, and it was such a warm, comforting hug, that I just had to keep crying, like I was meant to keep crying. I remember hearing her ask me, "Are you okay, mija?" and I all could do was whisper a faint, "Yes," and we let go of each other.

After  a couple minutes, I had to ask Livie to reach into her Abuelita's purse (my mom's purse), which was right next to us, wide open, showing a big packet of tissues. "Liv, get me some tissues from Abuelita's purse." 

"Can I just take them? Or should I ask her?" 

"Just take them. She understands."

And the next thing I knew, the service was over. It was both the longest service I'd had to be a part of, but also the quickest - suddenly it was over - though I think it was just about average, as far as a church service goes. 

The interment was quick, once we reached Ft. Bliss National Cemetery. And then off to the hotel for the reception. It was dawning on various family members that it was, in fact, my birthday, and were offering birthday wishes, and sympathy at the same time. It was definitely an odd meshing of "What are the chances?!" sentiments.  

Anyway, we spent a good amount of time at the reception, eating some hors d'oeuvres and visiting with family. And many were asking me what I was planning on doing for my birthday. I told them I wanted to take Andrew and Livie to the steakhouse near where my grandparents lived, the same place I'd eaten with them numerous times. 

One time, a number of years ago, right around my birthday, Andrew, Livie, and I were at my grandparents' for a long weekend (probably Veterans' Day, as that's the day before my birthday). My grandmother had given me birthday money so Andrew and I could eat a meal there. She specifically told me, "And make sure to get dessert, too!" My Uncle Hector was visiting that weekend, too, so he was the Official Livie Babysitter for those couple hours Andrew and I were at the restaurant.

So this steakhouse, The Great American Land & Cattle Company, was the place I wanted to eat that evening of my birthday, that one birthday that shared itself with my grandmother's funeral. 

This steakhouse is on Alabama Street, just past the intersection where we'd turn west onto my grandparents' (former) street. It is SO CLOSE to their former house, we could get there from my grandparents' within just a couple minutes.

 I took this pic Monday morning, the morning of the visitation, the day before the funeral.

I'd been to this restaurant a number of times with my grandparents when they were both still living. We often had the most delicious meals there. They had these Texas-style baked beans, that they call "Texas caviar." They are so delish. I can't think of a time where the meal wasn't prepared just right. 

I had even taken Andrew there once or twice when we visited my grandparents, but Livie had been too young when we were still living in the area. But now I had the chance to take her there, too. 

Here's the exterior of the restaurant. I couldn't get a shot of the whole exterior without getting that parked car, obviously. But I wanted to show that the whole side of the building has that cool mural painted on it. Definitely a West Texas theme, right? (You can click on the pic to get a somewhat bigger view of the pic.)

Well, the place was just like I'd remembered it. And we were fortunate enough to get a table with a spectacular view. 

This picture doesn't do it justice (I'd used my smart phone), but the view is beautiful, especially when the sun goes down. You see all these glittering lights of El Paso (not downtown, though) in the valley (the Franklin Mountains are behind us.)

We'd gotten there just as the sun was tucking itself behind the mountains. (You can see there's still some light in the pic of the restaurant's exterior.) Anyway, I had the filet mignon, medium. So good. Mmmm. Livie asked for the kid's cheeseburger. It was huge. She thought it was delish, by the way. And Andrew? Um, I think he had a sirloin?

We all looked out the window, watching the sky go through all those indescribable shades of blue from periwinkle to midnight blue. We reminisced about Oma, even making a toast. But just our being there, having a good time together, was probably enough to make Oma happy. 

I even ordered dessert, "because Oma would've wanted me to." Liv and I shared a massive slice of cheesecake with strawberries. We even clinked our forks together and said, "To Oma!"

On our way out, I had to snap a pic with my smart phone. Check out the view of the "western" chandelier as I head down the stairs: 

Yep, it's made from antlers! Cool, huh?!

Once we got out to the parking lot, it was dark. Liv and Andrew got into the car, while I walked to the edge of the lot, overlooking the twinkling city. 

I turned around and looked at the Franklin Mountains, "Oma's mountain," now only dark shadows of rock. 

I breathed in the cool night air. With each deep breath, I tried my best to retain it's unique "perfume" in my brain: a mixture of the desert landscape, the dry earth, sage, creosote, cottonwood trees. I had a distinct feeling that "this may be my last time in El Paso," but I hoped not. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply. There is something about the Southwest, about El Paso, that smells fragrant like no other place I've ever been. It definitely smells like home. It smells like the desert. I don't know how else to describe it. 

It just smells like home. Stark beauty.

Back to the Southwest Once More

Okay, I've been meaning to share a few more photos and stories about our trip back to the Southwest, but time keeps getting away from me.

Anyway, I had planned on having one full day to ourselves (just me, Liv, and Andrew) - Sunday - before having to tend to family obligations (the visitation at the funeral home was Monday November 11th, Veterans' Day, and my grandmother's funeral was on Tuesday November 12th, my birthday).

On our first full day back in the Southwest, that Sunday the 10th, we had headed to Alamogordo, NM, where Andrew and I had last been stationed while we were in the Air Force. (Check out the posts on our arrival in El Paso here, and our trip to White Sands.)

After we'd spend a considerable amount of time enjoying the beauty of White Sands National Monument, we'd decided to spend a bit of time in Alamogordo, itself.

Since we'd gotten to White Sands mid-morning and stayed for a few hours, we were ready to have lunch somewhere in Alamogordo. Andrew and I had been thinking of this little Mexican restaurant we'd enjoyed when we'd lived there. It's this place called Margo's Mexican Food on 1st Street, just off of White Sands Boulevard. I was really looking forward to an order of the chicken flautas, knowing that none in Iowa would hit the spot as well as the ones I could eat in Alamogordo or El Paso. Maybe it's just the location that makes them taste better? I dunno.

But Livie had other plans. Shs said that since we'd eaten Mexican food the night before, she wanted something different for lunch. So we went to Sonic. Yes, the fast food drive-in. She had never been at a drive-in where the car-hop - on roller skates - skates out with your order.

Sure, she had been with me to that very Sonic once in 2006 when she was a baby and Andrew and I were still in the Air Force. Andrew had been deployed at the time. Livie must've been around 5 months old. It was a Friday afternoon, and I'd had a long day at work. I was exhausted. On my way from my office to the on-base child care center to pick up Livie, I knew that I just wouldn't feel like making myself anything for dinner that night, once we got home. My choices (if I didn't cook myself something to eat) were cold cereal, or going through the drive-thru on my way home.

So the Sonic drive-thru it was, late that afternoon in '06. Livie was in her car seat that afternoon as I went through the drive thru. Technically, yes, she'd been to that exact Sonic before, but she hadn't pulled into a drive-in spot, ordered from the menu board, and had the car-hop roller skate out with our food.

And that's what we did that day after our White Sands visit. She thought it was so cool!

Anyway, after we'd eaten our lunch, we had a couple more quick stops to make before heading back to El Paso to have dinner with family.

First, we had to drive past our old house.

This is the view as we were driving down our old street. Yes, we got to see those mountains every single day. I loved that those mountains filled the view of my kitchen window. And the living room windows, and the master bedroom windows. If we went out to the back yard, those mountains were our whole view. (They're the Sacramento Mountains, by the way.)

 Here's our old house. From the front, it looks the same. Though, there is a new satellite dish (ours was on the back of the house). And a new tree in the front yard, which you can see on the very left of the picture. Oh, and those black sun shades on those windows on the left side of the pic.

After driving down our old street, we had one more stop before heading back to El Paso. 

See, there are a bunch of pistachio farms in the area. And one very, very large pistachio. Since Liv, Andrew, and I enjoy eating pistachios, we had to go.

Here she is with the giant pistachio!

This is at McGinn's Pistachio Tree Ranch. When we first got there, she acted as though she were irritated. She said, "But I thought it was going to be a real giant pistachio . . . one that I could eat!"

They did, however, have lots of pistachios and pistachio treats in the gift shop, ones that we could buy and she could actually eat. We ended up with a small bag of roasted, salted pistachios, and some pistachio brittle. (They also had some spicy pistachio brittle made with chiles, which I'd sampled. It was really tasty, but since I'd be the only one eating it, I decided not to buy any - I don't need to eat a whole bag of pistachio brittle all by myself - even if I spread out the eating over a few days, LOL.)

We then went down the road a little ways to another pistachio farm/gift shop called Heart of the Desert. Guess what they have in the picnic area at this place? 

Yep, it's a painted pony. This statue is called "Apple Oosa" for obvious reasons: it's an Appaloosa horse, but it has apples on it, too! Cute, huh?

I was glad for a whole day to ourselves as a family, where we had the chance to do something memorable before having to deal with the sad issue of my grandmother's funeral. 

Stay tuned . . . in a few days, I'll post about how we toasted my grandmother's memory the evening after her funeral.

On Being Back "Home" in the Southwest

I have to admit that while we were back in El Paso, TX for a sad reason (my grandmother's funeral), the trip did have some highlights.

Since I found myself unexpectedly back home in the Southwest, I took advantage of some free time - Saturday afternoon after we'd checked into lodging on Ft. Bliss and most of the day on Sunday - when we'd had nothing planned.

Now, while almost all of Texas' massiveness is within the Central time zone, El Paso, at the westernmost tip, is in the Mountain time zone. So, of course, when we arrived, it was an hour earlier than we're used to in eastern Iowa (Central).

Needless to say, by the time we had arrived in El Paso, gotten our luggage (having been charged $25 per suitcase = $75 total!!), gotten our rental car, and checked into our quarters (on-post lodging, like a hotel, but cheaper than the "good" rates my family had gotten at the hotel near the airport), we were all quite hungry and ready for dinner.

 We'd just gotten off the plane. Liv was happy to be there.

 This is more or less the view we had from the parking lot. I love these mountains.

So, where would we go when in El Paso? Well, we went to a Mexican restaurant that my grandparents used to take me when I was younger. It's a local chain called Leo's. It's actually been a long, long time since I've been there. I think the last time I went, I'd gone with my grandparents ("Oma" and "Sir Rafa"), my uncle Hector, and a few other relatives.

Well, every time I go to this restaurant, I always get the chicken flautas, which are prepared like tacos (beef, chicken, or another filling inside a corn tortilla that's been fried), but instead of the typical "taco" shape, they're rolled up in the shape of flutes (hence the name flautas, which means "flutes" in Spanish). This dish always comes with refried beans and Spanish rice.

However, I was remembering the last time I'd been at this restaurant. My uncle Hector had ordered the chicken with mole sauce (often made with smoked chiles and chocolate). It's a really tasty Mexican dish. I enjoy it (and the last time I was there with my uncle, he'd let me have a bite of his - it was good!). But since we were in El Paso for a somber event, I needed some "comfort" food. What's my comfort food?

This:

Yep, the chicken flautas. I had to get them. I wouldn't have been satisfied if I'd ordered the chicken with mole sauce (however good it may be), because my comfort food in El Paso (if not my grandmother's homemade tacos) has to be flautas. 

And I was not disappointed. They were delicious; they were as good as I'd remembered. I am still thinking about them. (They looked a lot better than they do in this picture.)

Liv had ordered a kid's special with one beef taco and one enchilada with green chile sauce. Her meal also came with the beans and rice. She devoured it.

 Not the greatest pic, but good enough (the sun had set and the lighting in the restaurant was a bit dim for the iPhone camera).

Andrew? I think he ordered a "create your own combo" with a taco, enchilada, and . . . hmm. Something else I just can't remember.

To top off this delicious meal? Always sopaipillas. They're these delicious pillows of fried dough, puffy and hot, served with honey. You tear off a small corner and pour in a bit of honey and coat the inside of the "pillow." So. Good.

This is a not-so-good pic of the delicious pillows known as sopaipillas. Mmmm. 

After we'd eaten, I'd been chatting with our server. I'd said that my grandparents had taken me to Leo's (I think one of the other locations) numerous times when I was younger. And I always loved the flautas and sopaipillas. We'd laughed when she agreed with me that I probably wouldn't have been satisfied if I'd ordered the chicken with mole, as my "go to" meal was always flautas. And I'd found out that the owner of the car dealership where I'd gotten my vehicle (there in El Paso) was a regular at this restaurant and he always ordered the same thing, every time! (Just like me!)

Anyway, after we'd finished eating, we realized we were all exhausted from traveling and having eaten a filling meal, and the thought of the stress of the days ahead. We immediately went back to on-post lodging, got ready for bed, and settled in for the night.

But before going to sleep, Liv had to do one last thing.

She had to read in bed. (She's borrowing my mini-reading light that clips onto a book.) She and I had gone to the bookstore the day before we'd left. I bought the two of us one book each for the trip. She picked Charlotte's Web.

 In the next day or two, I'll share another exciting adventure we had on this trip back to the Southwest.

Saying Goodbye to Oma

After receiving that most unpleasant of calls texts last week informing us of Oma's passing, we quickly began planning on getting back to El Paso, TX for her funeral.

On the one hand, it was an escape from the quotidian, which, I'm sure, is why Livie and I felt a little seed of excitement upon getting those e-mails confirming our air travel plans and our lodging confirmation.

We couldn't escape, though, the sad reason we were traveling in the first place: Oma's funeral.

We'd arrived in El Paso late in the afternoon on Saturday the 9th. The viewing was on Monday the 11th, and the funeral was on Tuesday the 12th.

The funeral seemed a bit harder than usual for me as it was on my birthday. What timing, right? (It couldn't have been helped, though.) However, my youngest brother and I had a brief discussion that it was almost like it was meant to be - one last birthday "together" in El Paso, if that makes any sense. There was a definite sense of saudade surrounding this trip, due to the circumstances, as well as having been a number of years since we'd been "home." 

The funeral was on a sunny, somewhat breezy Tuesday morning in El Paso, at St. Pius X church, on the corner of Geronimo and North Clark, where, I believe, I'd gone to services once or twice, long ago with my grandparents. It definitely looked familiar.

We'd intentionally picked out a pretty purple "party" dress for Liv, so she could "celebrate" the life and memory of her great-grandmother. They were so attached to each other, spending hours together talking and playing (meaning Liv played and Oma watched).


After the funeral, we headed to Ft. Bliss National Cemetary, where my grandfather (and Uncle Hector) are buried.

This is the plot which my grandmother now shares with my grandfather. The headstone is not there, temporarily, as the engraving for my grandmother is being added. Instead, the flowers from the funeral mark the location (along with a small informational tag at the head). 

I am so glad that the mountains near their former home are in the background overlooking the cemetery.

And, of course, I had to visit my uncle's spot. I hadn't been here, yet.

On Monday morning/early afternoon, a few hours before the viewing/Vigil (the "wake'), we drove past my grandparents' former house, since we had some time. It didn't feel right not driving past.

Plus, the last time Liv had been there, she had only been about one and a half years old, so she really didn't remember what it looked like, aside from having looked at photos. I wanted to make sure she'd remember it because she saw it in person.

The intersection: we had to turn off of Alabama onto Mountain Walk Drive. It's the only way to get to their house.

Driving west on Mountain Walk Drive, that old, familiar street.

And here's where they used to live. The main difference is that I noticed is that the ivy on the house's exterior has been removed. Oh, and the satellite dish.

It was a difficult reason for heading back "home" to the Southwest, but it also felt "right," if that makes sense. I've had such a longing or saudade for the Southwest, it was definitely a return "home," regardless of the circumstances. It was good (but sad), and necessary.

Losing Oma

I got that dreaded call -  or rather, a text - from my mom in the wee hours this morning (though I suppose at the time I'm writing this post, it's still the wee hours).

My maternal grandmother, Oma, passed away at 1:13 CST today, Monday, November 4, 2013.

She hadn't been well physically for quite some time. She (and the rest of us) had been greatly robbed of her memory by Alzheimer's. It was not an unexpected death. But it is a significant one; there is never anyone quite like one's grandmother.

I was lucky to have my grandmother until the week before my 43rd birthday.

She was the woman who would do anything for me. ANYTHING. She would've fought off a wolverine with her bare hands to protect me (if that situation had presented itself, of course).

There was nothing better than her grandchildren. We were better than all the Olympic gold medals combined. Better than all the riches in the world. Nothing made her happier than her grandchildren. Nothing.


She has always been a constant in my life. I could always count on her for certain things. Riding the Dumbo ride at Disney Land (or the helicopter ride or haunted house at Western Playland) when I was very young. Her homemade beans, tacos, and rice. I've never had any better than hers (and had, as a matter of fact, craved HER tacos and beans when I was pregnant hundreds of miles away from her home in El Paso, TX, when I was  in the Air Force, stationed near Concord, MA). Occasionally having an "ice cream soda" with her (she loved having those - vanilla ice cream with Coke poured over it), or a Klondike Bar. Going to a movie or play. Heading to Mesilla, NM for a day trip (it was only about a 45 minute drive from El Paso). Going out to dinner. A birthday card with a check in it. Her slipping me some money on those days I had to head home after visiting her.

Once, while I was a student at Lake Forest College, I had flown out to her house one spring break. We decided to go to a movie at the Cielo Vista Mall's movie theaters. We saw a Julia Roberts movie, Sleeping with the Enemy. It was one of those psychological thrillers about a woman who escapes from her abusive husband. When the movie was over and we left the theater, she said, "I was so tense throughout that whole movie, I now have a horrible headache." I think she ended up making one of her "ice cream sodas" when we got back home. How's that for treating a headache?

Another time, while I was still in the Air Force and stationed in Tucson, AZ (probably in the summer of 2000), I had a 4-day weekend coming up. It was an easy drive from Tucson to El Paso. I called her and told her I'd be at her house for my long weekend. I think I'd had both Friday and Monday off, so I was planning on leaving early Friday morning, expecting to arrive at her house around mid-morning.

However, I unexpectedly ended up having wrapped up my duty day much earlier than expected on Thursday afternoon. So I quickly headed back to my apartment, changed out of my uniform, grabbed my overnight bag, stopped at the gas station, and headed to El Paso. Since it ended up being kinda late (around 9-10 PM) when I got into El Paso and they weren't expecting me until the next morning, I headed to Ft. Bliss and checking into their lodging facility for the night. I hadn't wanted to worry my grandparents by ringing the doorbell that late at night, as I knew they'd both be in bed.

The next morning, I got up, showered quickly and headed over. It was about breakfast time. I pulled into the driveway, rang the doorbell, and heard Oma asking my grandfather who it could be. When she answered the door (my grandfather rolling up behind her in his wheelchair), she was really surprised, but incredibly happy. She hadn't been expecting me 'til closer to lunchtime. Just the smell of her house at breakfast time was "home"enough for me. But she had pulled me in the doorway and squeezed me as hard as she could before ushering me to the breakfast table.

That was a fun memory of surprising her.

Know what she did to help me one night? I may have told this story here before, but I'll tell it again, briefly. While I was stationed in Alamogordo, NM, when Livie was just a baby and Andrew was deployed to the Middle East, Livie and I spent Labor Day weekend at Oma's house.

Livie ended up coming down with the coxsackie virus - hand/foot/mouth disease, as it's commonly known. She had little blisters inside her mouth and on her feet. She wasn't nursing or taking a bottle because her mouth hurt. Well, I was worried she'd become dehydrated, so in the middle of the night, Oma went with me that rainy night when I took Livie to the hospital at Ft. Bliss.

Livie hadn't quite been herself during the day, and had become increasingly fussy throughout the night, refusing to be nursed and refusing a bottle, which is what prompted the visit to the hospital. However, when the doc came into the exam room, Livie, wide awake at 2 AM, looked at him and smiled. (By the way, there was nothing we could do but wait out the virus. The doc recommended we get those pedia-pops because the cold "popsicle" would soothe her mouth.)

When I walked into the waiting room to get Oma after the doc saw Livie, I told her that Liv had smiled at the doc. Oma couldn't do anything other than smile, shake her head, and say, "Ay, Olivia!"

But the thing Oma gave me that night - since Livie was too uncomfortable to sleep unless being held, Oma took her and sat in the rocking chair in the guest room, rocking her and telling me to get some sleep. She sat with Liv in the rocking chair until dawn!

And then there was the time we were in Chicago in 2009 for my niece's baptism. One evening, we had all decided to go out to dinner. We ended up at Ruth's Chris steakhouse. That was one of the best steaks I'd had in a long while.

Oma ended up footing the bill. And it was a large bill, because there were a lot of us family members at that meal. Andrew, my Uncle Hector, and I walked away nearly speechless at Oma's generosity; we didn't talk about it in voices above whispers, we were so surprised and thankful.

Of course, one of Livie's favorite memories is taking Oma for frozen yogurt. You see, Oma always had a sweet tooth. She once told Livie that she doesn't have a sweet tooth "because all of them are sweet." The last time we'd taken her for frozen yogurt was a few of months ago, probably during the summer while we were visiting her at my parents' house. The local frozen yogurt place had coconut flavored frozen yogurt that day. Oma LOVED coconut. So, since it was a self-serve place (where they weigh your cup and you pay by the ounce), Livie helped me fill a cup with the coconut flavored "fro-yo," topping it with caramel (another of Oma's favorites), then adding plenty of shaved coconut and cashews. Liv and I had called the creation "the Three Cs" for coconut, caramel, and cashews.

Oma couldn't get enough. She lamented that she should've skipped dinner so she could have two servings of that delicious sundae. She had never had anything she'd enjoyed so much. After every bite, she would exclaim, "Boy, that's good!" When she had finished, she'd said that was a big disappointment - it was gone.

She talked about that sundae the rest of the evening, and surprisingly (due to the Alzheimer's which caused her to forget certain things within just minutes) she talked about that sundae the next day!

Oh, Oma. There are so many good stories to tell. Stories I'll have to tell Livie, so that Oma's memory lives on. Stories I'll tell Livie to take a little bit of the sting out of the loss of her great-grandmother.

Oma, it was time for you to go, but it had to be. You are greatly missed.

Remembering Sir Rafa

Today is the anniversary of my maternal grandfather's birth. He was an American hero, a family man, a storyteller. He would've been 99 years old today. His name was Rafael, and everyone called him "Ralph," (the grandchildren calling him "Ompa" - a version of the word Opa, meaning grandfather). But I always called him "Sir Rafa" (from a "fairy tale" I'd written about my family long ago).

I remember him at unexpected times - when I smell or taste spearmint (he always had spearmint gum), when I see a sunrise (he was always the earliest of risers), when I drink coffee (remembering that unlike mine, which I drink with hazelnut cream and a Splenda, he took his black, no sugar, because he said he was "sweet enough already"), when I get sucked into a good book or movie (he told the best stories). He almost always passed along nuggets of wisdom through telling us anecdotes.

He had the most contagious laugh. Today, that's what I miss the most.

 His "official" portrait when he was a Sergeant (E-5) in the US Army. 

 He and my grandmother posed with Andrew and me at our wedding in 2002. 

 He and my mom smile for the camera at the wedding reception. 

He's met baby Livie for the first time in June 2006; this was the day we arrived in El Paso.

This song's for you, Sir Rafa: 

Just Remembering a Few Things

Hi everyone. I know, I know . . .  I've obviously been away from blog-land for a while.

First, I had to take this semester off - it was an unplanned break. (It's a complicated story . . . but in a nutshell, I was not informed my advisor had retired. I couldn't sign up for classes without my advisor's approval. For a couple weeks prior to the semester's start, I was unable to track her down, and no one thought to mention that she had retired/had a replacement until after classes had started. And of course, by this time, the ones I wanted/needed were full.)

Secondly, after a rough fall semester last year, I was completely unmotivated to write anything, either academic, or for fun (such as for this blog).

As a matter of fact, I've hardly had the motivation to read anything for fun, either.

Basically, I've had little inspiration to create anything recently.

I guess I just needed a break.

But today, I realized something: yesterday was the third anniversary of my uncle Hector's untimely death. I hadn't even realized yesterday was the anniversary until I was getting Livie ready for school this morning, and I'd glanced at the school lunch calender to tell her what her hot-lunch options were for the day.

So I guess that was inspiration enough to share a few memories.

#1

This is the house in El Paso, TX where my maternal grandparents lived for many, MANY years, as did my mom and my uncles. This first story takes place here. I wasn't there, but I've been told the story numerous times, mainly by my grandmother, Oma, (but once or twice by my uncle, and a couple times by my mom). So this is going to be my Oma's version of the story.

Some background info: before I came into existence, my mom was in nursing school. She lived at home with her parents while going to nursing school.

The story: one night, she was coming home after her shift at the hospital. On this particular evening, my uncle (7 years younger than my mom) had my grandmother's permission to spend the night at his friend's house. So he was supposedly at his friend's house.

As you may have guessed, he was NOT at his friend's house. He and his friend were at my grandparents' house. Not inside the house, but  hiding in the bushes. See where this is going?

Well, since it was night, and it was dark, my mom had pulled into the carport and was quickly walking to the door. I'm sure you can guess what happened next. My uncle and his friend were planning on jumping out to try and scare her, thinking her reaction would be hilarious. However, she had gotten SO SCARED, that she let out a blood-curdling scream.

My grandparents, who'd been in bed, but awake as they waited for my mom's safe return, had heard her terrified scream, jumped out of bed, and scurried to the door. Who do they see? My scared mom, of course. But also my scared uncle.

They were all scared at the time (except for my grandfather who was understandably very angry). But in retelling this story, my grandmother is in tears from laughing so hard. She says that my uncle had intended to scare his sister, my mom, but ended up having the tables turned, being the one who'd been frightened by her! My grandmother laughs SO HARD at the memory of his face, pale in the light of a full moon, eyes huge.

At this point in the story, my Oma is laughing so hard, she needs to stop to catch her breath. She says she was so angry at the time, that she made my uncle stay home for the rest of the night, even though she'd earlier given him permission to spend the night at his friend's. She says the funniest thing fueling her laughter is the memory of the moonlight on his face, making him look unusually pale, when he was probably already pale from having been frightened.

#2

This photo was taken at my grandparents' home (not the home pictured earlier, but the home they lived in for their remaining years together). It's obviously my uncle and baby Livie. She was about 9 months old here. We'd all been at my grandparents' for the Veterans' Day long weekend (which was also my birthday weekend). My uncle was very good at taking care of babies,and enjoyed helping out with his great-niece, Livie. So if we were all at my grandparents' at the same time, he would willingly babysit her while Andrew and I went out for a couple hours (for dinner, or Christmas shopping, or a movie or whatever).

There was a weekend we were all at my grandparents' in December; it had just so happened to be the anniversary of when Andrew and I had gotten married in the church. "UH" (as he used to sign his e-mails to me) agreed to babysit Livie while Andrew and I went out to dinner. We went to the Olive Garden at Cielo Vista Mall in El Paso. I don't remember now what I'd eaten. What I do remember is that it tasted SO GOOD, but I think it was because we had a couple hours to ourselves, knowing Livie was in good hands.

#3

This next photo is obviously a number of months later, when Livie was over a year old.With a great love of books, language, and learning, he enjoyed reading to Livie. (By the way, he was a professor in the Department of English at the University of New Mexico - I guess, once a teacher, always a teacher.) 

As you can see, he's dressed all in black, which earned him my nickname for him - "Johnny Cash." My grandmother asked him once why he always dressed in black, head to toe. He smiled, chuckled, and said, "Well, I guess it's because this way, it's just so easy to match."

#4

 

This photo is at my parents' house in Iowa. This was over Thanksgiving. Livie is being a chatterbox here, and my uncle is getting a kick out of all the funny things she was talking about (she talked a LOT then, and she talks a LOT now!). She was about 2.5 years old at this time.

This was about the time he was consistently calling her "Kitty Cat" as a nickname. She gets a kick out of this every time I remind her he used to call her that.

So there you have it. I'm gone for a few weeks and come back with a long, chatty post! Once my fingers get going over the keyboard, they get going!