Legacy Writing 365:119

It may take a while, but I think I can manage the legacy writing entries in such a way to finish the year on time after my week-plus away. This matters to no one but me, I know, but as an Aries who’s worked hard to refute the image of us as “great starters; poor finishers,” I do try to follow through on these tasks I set for myself. Plus I enjoy writing about the people and places I remember, so it’s not exactly a burden to me to catch up.

Some of my favorite memories are from nights around the table playing progressive rummy, first with Lynne’s aunts and cousins, when we’d be using so many decks that I’d have to run to a separate table to splay out my cards and figure out what I could play. After Tom and I moved to Houston, we’d play game after game with Lynne and Craig on the weekends, inviting in anyone else who dropped by their house. We would fortify ourselves with oldies on the radio, pots of coffee, and lots of cussing.

To this day, I keep a notebook with the running scores of games we play at our house with Lynne and her family, and a separate legal pad for the games my sister plays when she’s visiting Houston.

Debby knows it’s inevitable that the cards will come out sooner or later, and she always greets their appearance with dramatic moans and teeth gnashing. We were able to squeeze in three games Thursday night–Tim won the first two. Then, in spite of all my best efforts to mis-add her score, the outcome of the third game led to her suggestion that I shoot a photo for posterity. (Lowest number of points wins.)

Just wait’ll next time…

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Button Sunday and Legacy Writing 365:118


Another button from Lynne’s collection. Happy birthday to all the Taureans in my life.

Speaking of, as you may recall, each year on April 28, I make a cake in honor of my late friend Steve R’s birthday. This year, Lila was here to blow out his candles. She did a great job.

Steve and his youngest sister getting windblown on the beach in Galveston, year unknown.

 

On Steve’s last birthday before he died, he was in the hospital. I learned then from friends who loved him that people can make a festive occasion anywhere and under any circumstances. Also, if you provide cake, you will make new friends.

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Legacy Writing 365:117

It may be a while before I share some of the things that I want…and need…to share. So many words for me to absorb and rearrange and shape into something coherent. I think one of the smartest things I’ve stumbled on was the difference between grieving and mourning. That’s all to talk about later.

I’ve always tried to be mindful in the saddest and hardest times that reasons to celebrate remain bountiful. This idea was given to me as a gift in 1986, but I’m the one who has to choose to use that gift each day.

So today, I commend Jess–my nephew not by birth, but by love–for getting his Masters of Divinity from theological seminary. It seems like only minutes ago when factions of his family were pulling for an entirely different educational future for him:


Jess at seven months: Roll Tide.


Jess just over a year old: War Eagle.

We’re all proud of the fine young man you are, Jess. Congratulations.

Thanks, Lynne, for sharing your photos–and your son.

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Photo Friday, No. 293

Current Photo Friday theme: Downward


Delta: Landing

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Interlude


I need to take a break. I’ll be back because writing is how I learn to breathe again.

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Photo Friday, No. 292

Current Photo Friday theme: Portraiture


Aaron, March 2012

Aaron Cochrane
December 19, 1993 – April 25, 2012

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Legacy Writing 365:116

Look, it’s the Osmond Bunny Ears Family! A musical sensation so fiercely 1980s that it hurts.

I had an entire apartment, so I don’t know why Josh, Gina, Sarah, their father, and I are hanging out in my bedroom while I pretend I can play that keyboard. But whatever; my mother captured the moment for posterity. I thought my sweatshirt was dirty until I viewed the picture HUGE and realized there’s some drawing of a woman on it. That is not my sweatshirt, and if anyone had shown it to me before I saw this photo, I would have sworn I never wore one like it. I have no idea whose it could have been. Kathy’s? My mother’s? Beats me.

All Eighties fashion was tragic, anyway.

And hair. Josh: mullet!

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Legacy Writing 365:115

April 24 would be my parents’ Star Sapphire anniversary. I think I should go buy myself some jewelry!

Kidding.

Instead, I cut a little bouquet of flowers growing around The Compound: plumbago, star jasmine, an azalea blossom, bougainvillea, and impatiens. They’re in the bud vase I gave my parents on their silver anniversary.

I reckon I’ll dust off that old story about the time they exchanged meaningful smirks when I brought them a gift on another of their anniversaries. When I asked what was up, they laughed and wondered why I always celebrated their anniversary on the twenty-fourth instead of the twenty-third. “Because your anniversary is on the twenty-fourth,” I said. When I wouldn’t back down, Mother told Daddy to get their marriage certificate.


Mmmhmmm.


Dear Bill and Dorothy–We’re glad you met and married and made us.
Love, David, Debby, and Becky

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Legacy Writing 365:114

One year Tom and I met his entire family in New Orleans for a few days. I had some kind of injury–it was years before I had the spinal fracture/slipped disk thing, so maybe it was my bum ankle. Regardless, I couldn’t do a lot of walking, so sometimes when they went full-force sightseeing, I found a quiet hangout to work on the second TJB book (He’s the One). New Orleans is a great city to be a writer in, even if your books aren’t set there. Literary inspiration oozes from every air molecule (also called “humidity,” especially in August).

One afternoon I had an idea of something I wanted to do, and Tom was game. But even better, his mom asked if she could come, too. I love it when she wants to join us because she has so much enthusiasm for even a modest adventure.

For this outing, I wanted to visit Anne Rice’s home in the Garden District (it was when she still lived in New Orleans) featured in her Mayfair witch novels. Many of her readers used to go and stand outside her house, hoping for a glimpse of her, and I have no shame about being a fan girl. When an author has given me that many hours of enjoyment, I like seeing where she works and where she soaks up some of her inspiration.

Anne was in residence at the time, but we didn’t see her (it was Elvis all over again!). Here’s a long-shot I took of Tom and his mother so I could get some of the house and the tree.

If anyone wants to put me up in an atmosphere-soaked mansion for the summer, I’m sure I could finish a novel.

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Legacy Writing 365:113


In this picture, Mother is about thirty-four. She’s sitting near Aunt Drexel while they open Christmas presents. Above the mantel are some watercolors my father painted of German buildings. I still have those, plus some of the things on the table next to Mother: the books, a small green ashtray, the brass coasters.

I love seeing Aunt Drexel unaware that someone’s taking her photo. I love the look of delight on my mother’s face. And it’s impossible not to pair that photo with this one of my sister, who was around the same age my mother was in her photo on the Christmas this was taken in my apartment in north Alabama.


Another painting of my father’s (painted for me, so of course I still have it) is on the wall behind her. She’s opening a ring that Mother brought her from a trip she took with our cousins Alan, Laverne, and Elenore to the Bahamas.

These photos really do make me happy. Although Debby’s eagle eye may spot what looks like hand-wringing happening on the left side of the photo. She’ll know that’s me, and it’ll make her laugh.

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