![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Productive Insomnia
Aug. 7th, 2002 02:21 amAs you can probably tell (if you know my schedule at all) I'm having a bit of insomnia tonight. This is very bad. Fatigue plus insomnia means misery tomorrow. Hopefully I'll manage a nap before tomorrow night's social obligation.
It's silent. Quiet. Oddly so...even the normally noisy upstairs neighbors are quiet...the only sounds are the computer sounds....and crickets. I'm not used to that, living here anymore. I kind of miss crickets and cicadas at night.
Insomnia has produced some results...as I was putting together clothes for the rest of the week, I found a necklace [1]I'd forgotten about, and another one that I thought I'd lost, and would have been devastated had I actually lost it. I found a pretty sort of irridescent black string of small beads, which I thought I'd lost, and a string of amber beads with a carved wooden bead, which my grandmother had given me years ago. It's the one piece of jewlrey I have from her that I wear regularly-even the ring from my Bat Mitzvah doesn't get worn much. It came with a pair of earings, which I'm sure are at my mother's somewhere, but I don't change my earings, so I don't actually have them down here with me.
It's sort of strikes me though-I'm sure this wasn't a particularly meaningful piece of jewlrey, this necklace and earing set. It came from my grandparents while they were on a cruise, when I was in high school. And yet, it's the one thing that I seem to wear...a lot. I remember the last time I wore it was just before my birthday, when I went to schul with my girlfriend and then to a play party. We of course didn't go to schul in the playparty clothes, and I'd been wearing that necklace with my schul-clothes. I found it in my make up bag; I suppose I haven't put on my "going out" face since then. (it's about two months-not THAT long for me to have not pulled out the stuff in that particular make up bag.)
I wonder now, as I sit here in the dark...when my mother is gone, what will my hypothetical children remember about her? Will they remember her like I remember my grandmother? I remember how my grandmother smelled (Fendi was the perfume she wore) and how she never went out without her lipstick. I remember as a child how she would put her bright reds on my sister and I, and how garish they must have looked. (Perhaps this is the root of my aversion to truly bright red lipsticks.) I remember my grandmother's cooking, and what a fantastic and gracious hostess she was. It's funny...I roast chicken using the same recipie as my mother, and as my grandmother, and it never tastes quite as good. I still call it "grandma's chicken" though. I recall as a child in my grandparents house, how the women (my grandmother and her friends) would sit around the kitchen table and play Scrabble. I remember when I started to understand the Yiddish she and my grandfather spoke when "die kinder" weren't supposed to know what was going on. The story she always told about her sister, Sadie and the handkerchiefs. I remember the smell of scotch in the late afternoons/evenings. I remember being five years old, staying with my grandparents, sitting in the kitchen and watching the MGM Grand Hotel in Las Vegas up in flames, knowing my parents were in Las Vegas and being scared because I didn't know where they were. That was the day of the peaches-when she made my sister sit at the kitchen table until she tasted some canned peaches. My sister never did taste the peaches. I remember her "dark glasses"-never sunglasses, and I often think of her when I'm switching my regular glasses and sunglasses. I hear her voice in my head, telling me my hair should be out of my face because I have such a pretty face. I remember that she always wore the same earings-my whole life, I always remember them. She hated the hat that I wore when we visited them, so she bought me this hideous plastic visor to wear instead. She insisted that when I was a senior in high school, I have a nice watch to wear instead of the Swatch that I'd been wearing since I was 13. I remember the way she would admonish my grandfather not to feed the dog from the table, and yet, she loved the dogs...perhaps because of how my grandfather felt about them. Every spring, we'd celebrate my birthday by going out to dinner, at some place that I chose. I'll never forget the year she sat on my birthday cake in the car. That was the year I got a stuffed Wicket the Ewok, who still lives on my bed at my mother's house. And yet, even more special than that, was the year that instead of going out, we had a big lobster fest at my grandparents house. It was of course, family, but it was the "adopted" family as well...the "aunts" and "uncles" who are such an essential part of my childhood memories. I remember how my grandmother would lean on me, when she went down the steps. I remember polished nails. They never called each other "Ina" and "John" but always "Mom" and "Dad". Grandma taught me how to play gin rummy. She also taught me how to shake hands with grown ups. At Grandma's house I learned that you use your forks from the outside in. I remember her not being angry with me when I broke my favorite glass at her house-the one with Donald Duck on it, because I tried to pick it up when my arm was still in a cast after I'd broken in.
I feel my grandmother's presence in my life, mostly because of the lessons she taught my mother who passed them on to me...the importance of a thank you note, how to be gracious even in unpleasant situations, how to be a good hostess, and other tasks and roles that are traditionally women's roles.
My mother and grandmother were such incredibly different people,[2] and yet I know how much each valued the relationship they had with the other. Will I grow up to have that with my mother? Will her grandchildren value her in the way that I cherished my grandparents? Will they recognize the lessons that were passed on because of their grandmother? Already, I hear my mother's voice sometimes when I say things, or do things. What have I taken from my grandmother that I will pass on? What gifts to I have to offer back?
I'm thinking of sitting shiva for my grandmother-how stories were shared, and memories related. My mother's twin cousins, Ellie and Ruthie, a few years older were often held up as standards for my mother. They grew up in Connecticut, where my grandmother's family had settled after they came to the US. And I recall one of them talking about how my grandmother was looked up to, because they had "made it" and moved out of Connecticut to New York. (My mom grew up in Westchester County.)
What am I taking with me? What am I leaving behind?
***************************************************************
Wow. This turned out way more intense and serious than I'd planned when I sat down at the computer.
[1]I'm sort of weird about my necklaces; all my other jewlrey generally remains the same day to day-earings, bracelets, rings, watch...my necklaces though I have fun with. When I was in grad school and met my friend Kevin K. one of the first things he said to me was, "Does your necklace always match your shirt?" I'd been wearing a purple shirt and purple beads the day before, and that day was wearing a blue shirt and blue beads.(We had three friends named Kevin in grad school...they were referred to as "big kevin", "Blonde kevin" and "Kevin k")
[2]I'm using the past tense here-my mother is still around, my grandmother is not...she passed away just a bit more than two years ago.
It's silent. Quiet. Oddly so...even the normally noisy upstairs neighbors are quiet...the only sounds are the computer sounds....and crickets. I'm not used to that, living here anymore. I kind of miss crickets and cicadas at night.
Insomnia has produced some results...as I was putting together clothes for the rest of the week, I found a necklace [1]I'd forgotten about, and another one that I thought I'd lost, and would have been devastated had I actually lost it. I found a pretty sort of irridescent black string of small beads, which I thought I'd lost, and a string of amber beads with a carved wooden bead, which my grandmother had given me years ago. It's the one piece of jewlrey I have from her that I wear regularly-even the ring from my Bat Mitzvah doesn't get worn much. It came with a pair of earings, which I'm sure are at my mother's somewhere, but I don't change my earings, so I don't actually have them down here with me.
It's sort of strikes me though-I'm sure this wasn't a particularly meaningful piece of jewlrey, this necklace and earing set. It came from my grandparents while they were on a cruise, when I was in high school. And yet, it's the one thing that I seem to wear...a lot. I remember the last time I wore it was just before my birthday, when I went to schul with my girlfriend and then to a play party. We of course didn't go to schul in the playparty clothes, and I'd been wearing that necklace with my schul-clothes. I found it in my make up bag; I suppose I haven't put on my "going out" face since then. (it's about two months-not THAT long for me to have not pulled out the stuff in that particular make up bag.)
I wonder now, as I sit here in the dark...when my mother is gone, what will my hypothetical children remember about her? Will they remember her like I remember my grandmother? I remember how my grandmother smelled (Fendi was the perfume she wore) and how she never went out without her lipstick. I remember as a child how she would put her bright reds on my sister and I, and how garish they must have looked. (Perhaps this is the root of my aversion to truly bright red lipsticks.) I remember my grandmother's cooking, and what a fantastic and gracious hostess she was. It's funny...I roast chicken using the same recipie as my mother, and as my grandmother, and it never tastes quite as good. I still call it "grandma's chicken" though. I recall as a child in my grandparents house, how the women (my grandmother and her friends) would sit around the kitchen table and play Scrabble. I remember when I started to understand the Yiddish she and my grandfather spoke when "die kinder" weren't supposed to know what was going on. The story she always told about her sister, Sadie and the handkerchiefs. I remember the smell of scotch in the late afternoons/evenings. I remember being five years old, staying with my grandparents, sitting in the kitchen and watching the MGM Grand Hotel in Las Vegas up in flames, knowing my parents were in Las Vegas and being scared because I didn't know where they were. That was the day of the peaches-when she made my sister sit at the kitchen table until she tasted some canned peaches. My sister never did taste the peaches. I remember her "dark glasses"-never sunglasses, and I often think of her when I'm switching my regular glasses and sunglasses. I hear her voice in my head, telling me my hair should be out of my face because I have such a pretty face. I remember that she always wore the same earings-my whole life, I always remember them. She hated the hat that I wore when we visited them, so she bought me this hideous plastic visor to wear instead. She insisted that when I was a senior in high school, I have a nice watch to wear instead of the Swatch that I'd been wearing since I was 13. I remember the way she would admonish my grandfather not to feed the dog from the table, and yet, she loved the dogs...perhaps because of how my grandfather felt about them. Every spring, we'd celebrate my birthday by going out to dinner, at some place that I chose. I'll never forget the year she sat on my birthday cake in the car. That was the year I got a stuffed Wicket the Ewok, who still lives on my bed at my mother's house. And yet, even more special than that, was the year that instead of going out, we had a big lobster fest at my grandparents house. It was of course, family, but it was the "adopted" family as well...the "aunts" and "uncles" who are such an essential part of my childhood memories. I remember how my grandmother would lean on me, when she went down the steps. I remember polished nails. They never called each other "Ina" and "John" but always "Mom" and "Dad". Grandma taught me how to play gin rummy. She also taught me how to shake hands with grown ups. At Grandma's house I learned that you use your forks from the outside in. I remember her not being angry with me when I broke my favorite glass at her house-the one with Donald Duck on it, because I tried to pick it up when my arm was still in a cast after I'd broken in.
I feel my grandmother's presence in my life, mostly because of the lessons she taught my mother who passed them on to me...the importance of a thank you note, how to be gracious even in unpleasant situations, how to be a good hostess, and other tasks and roles that are traditionally women's roles.
My mother and grandmother were such incredibly different people,[2] and yet I know how much each valued the relationship they had with the other. Will I grow up to have that with my mother? Will her grandchildren value her in the way that I cherished my grandparents? Will they recognize the lessons that were passed on because of their grandmother? Already, I hear my mother's voice sometimes when I say things, or do things. What have I taken from my grandmother that I will pass on? What gifts to I have to offer back?
I'm thinking of sitting shiva for my grandmother-how stories were shared, and memories related. My mother's twin cousins, Ellie and Ruthie, a few years older were often held up as standards for my mother. They grew up in Connecticut, where my grandmother's family had settled after they came to the US. And I recall one of them talking about how my grandmother was looked up to, because they had "made it" and moved out of Connecticut to New York. (My mom grew up in Westchester County.)
What am I taking with me? What am I leaving behind?
***************************************************************
Wow. This turned out way more intense and serious than I'd planned when I sat down at the computer.
[1]I'm sort of weird about my necklaces; all my other jewlrey generally remains the same day to day-earings, bracelets, rings, watch...my necklaces though I have fun with. When I was in grad school and met my friend Kevin K. one of the first things he said to me was, "Does your necklace always match your shirt?" I'd been wearing a purple shirt and purple beads the day before, and that day was wearing a blue shirt and blue beads.(We had three friends named Kevin in grad school...they were referred to as "big kevin", "Blonde kevin" and "Kevin k")
[2]I'm using the past tense here-my mother is still around, my grandmother is not...she passed away just a bit more than two years ago.
