Writing About Remembering and Rosie

In the midst of Operation 40: 4 Decades of Photos Featuring Uncle B. Bone, I have come across a wealth of other relics. Some finds are treasures that tug on heart strings while others are good for a long laugh out loud. In other words, some tokens make me cry until I laugh and others make me laugh until I cry.

In a box of many filled with random mementos like snapshots, prayer cards and wedding programs my mom saved over the years, I came across a card my paternal grandma sent her in 1995. It was dated just days after my wedding. Many people sent Mom cards after the wedding. She put on quite a party so it was no surprise. True to her classy nature, she didn't skip a beat, yet most guests talked not only about the elegance of the event, but also the emotion and the exuberance. It was fine and it was fun. Mom shared some of the sentiments she received with me, but I don't believe I ever was privy to this correspondence.

Grandma's words were gushing with gratitude and praise. The consummate party planner herself, she had much to say about the details...all of it good, for Mom outwitted the devils in them (the details that is to say). She had so much to say that there wasn't an inch of blank space left on the card...front or back. If you haven't figured it out yet, this is in the category of cry until you laugh. My eyes got misty after a sentence because Rosie was a one of a kind grandma and an all around Neat lady. I miss her. Then the tears started to flow because I could see her as she was on that day proud and beautiful. Proud because the man I was marrying was "a keeper" by her standards, which God love her she never kept to herself, and proud I also believe because we were being married in God's house, the Catholic Church. She was beautiful in her flowing mint sheath with a gardenia pinned just above her heart. Good God she even wore lipstick and earrings for the occasion. See, she may have been a beaut, but what was on the outside didn't much matter to her and that is a lesson she taught me early on. To that point, I am pretty sure she donned the green frock at any and every occasion that called for a dress from that Saturday forward. She preferred her pink sweater or her wolf sweatshirt most days. And here is where I started to laugh through my tears because when I think of Rosie I remember so much spunk and sass and smart wit.

I'm just so tickled that I found this remnant at all. It's even more of a treasure today because they are both angels now. To me it is so beautifully telling to hear my Grandma's voice as I read her words. And I heard her clear as a bell. She didn't write a lot that I know of, yet she had quite a way with her words when she did. It also speaks volumes to me that my Mom tucked this note away. She was touched by it. It meant something to her and now it is an heirloom that connects me to them both. It's a gift. A hug. A lifeline. I imagine them together smiling down on me as I uncovered the clandestine correspondence thinking it's about time lady.

I'm a keeper. A nostalgic historian...not a hoarder. It's hard for me to throw away a single note, card, or photo. They mean something to me. And it's a good thing too because sometimes I need to take a walk down memory lane for a heart wrenching cry or a belly busting laugh, and I never know what I'll find in one of my memory boxes. I must confess it was impossible to contain my unbridled laughter the other night when I came across a well-worn letter written by my first love on his dad's prescription pad no less. In it he threatened to become a priest if I ever broke up with him. He was 13. I broke up with him when we were 18 and I know for sure he's yet to become a priest at 42!