Narrative

Proof of Love

Jeanna GLeave a comment

When we were kids, we became blood brothers or blood sisters to prove our love and dedication to one another. We would pinprick our fingers, and then touch and press our blood droplets together. This was in the 80s, so the CDC promptly called for an end to that practice.

Luckily, embroidery thread was cheap and I had time to make as many friendship bracelets as I had friends. We’d wear them until they fell off.

It was then that we realized we needed something more permanent. So we spray painted our initials and a heart inside the giant cement sewer pipes that were actually our playground structures.

We came, we hiked, we carved

We somehow made it to middle school, so we needed a new canvas. How about carving our initials and a heart into a tree trunk? We thought it would last forever. But then the tree was chopped down to put up a parking lot. Joni warned us of this. We’d stick it to the man and draw our initials and a heart into the wet cement.

High school was next, so we stuck cups in the shape of a heart and our initials into the chain link fence around the football field.

College brought love notes on mirrors.

Now, me and my besties decided on matching tattoos. (We used different needles. )

Love will persist, and it’s our job to prove it.

How will you prove your love this Valentine’s Day?

Old Town Home

Jeanna G1 Comment

If my memory serves me correctly, there used to be a Country Time Lemonade commercial that had Benny Goodman‘s “How Am I To Know” playing in the background while a boy rode his bike down a dusty country road in summer. Every time I hear that song, I picture myself as a child, riding my bike around my old town home.

Sun peeks through the curtains, time to get up and go.

Grab my pack and jump on my 10-speed.

Cruise down past the hardware store and the spinning pole of the barber shop to the town center, where my friend is waiting for a match on the lone tennis court.

Lose track of the score and decide we both earned a cone from the local ice cream shop.

Smile at the Maytag Man, who is sitting alone in front of his shop with nothing to do, of course.

Wave goodbye to my friend, and roll over to the park.

Down goes the kickstand while I pick a handful of blackberries along the entrance.

On to the tee ball field where the Blue Jays and the Pirates are in the bottom of the 3rd.

Bleachers are full, so I ride over to the playground.

A few flips over the parallel bars and then I take my chances on the steep metal slide.

Seat scorcher!

Once is enough.

What’s next?

Pedal down to the toy store to see what’s new in stock and add to my wish list for Santa.

Across to the aquarium shop to decide how I’ll spend my allowance.

Only a dollar left in my pocket.

Penny candy it is!

Spin back up to the center, up past the historic homes, tobacco barns, and churches, up past the video and package stores, to the one convenience store.

I count out 10 sticks of Fortune Bubble, 5 Pixy Stix, 5 Bit O’ Honey, 5 root beer barrels, a pack of Pop Rocks and a box of Nerds. I’ve still got a quarter to spare!

Take my bounty over to the pond to share with who’s fishing.

They say they threw them all back, so they had nothing to show. Same as last time!

Time to check on my 4-H calf. We take a stroll through the barn together.

Take the long way home, past the cemetery, library, and print shop.

Friends have a lemonade stand set up on the front walk. There goes my last coin.

Whiz past the market where I see mom pushing her cart to the suburban. One hour ‘til dinner.

Rush over to the neighbor’s to check on our tree forts.

Go karts are out, time for a race!

There’s the dinner bell,

right on time.

Wash up!

Bless the food.

What’d you do today, Li’l Bean?

Oh…not much.

Stargazing

Jeanna GLeave a comment

It’s that amazing time of year when the Perseids make their luminous entrance into our atmosphere. Last night, my daughter and I lay side-by-side on a blanket in the grass, surrounded by friends, and stared at the sky, trying not to blink, willing stars to shoot, fall, and dazzle. We were in the same spot where she saw her first shooting star, figuring it must be good luck.

Her first was actually one of the Geminids. Earlier that summer, on a beach vacation in Ocean Isle, I had seen at least two shooting stars, and one glamorous falling star over the ocean. She missed them all. When the Geminids came around that December, we were determined to see her first fiery streak of space debris together. So we sat in our car, wrapped in blankets, staring off towards its namesake constellation. After an hour, we were about to give up, when a brilliant light streaked across the horizon. When we both inhaled sharply together, I knew she’d seen it. Magic.

My high school sweetheart and I used to stargaze all the time. We actually sought out fields and rock ledges and water edges on which to sit and marvel at the sky, and sometimes at the twinkling in each other’s eyes.

At summer camp when I was about 10 years old, closing ceremony took place in the evening. I’m not sure if the timing was planned because they knew there would be a meteor shower, or if the light show was a happy coincidence. Either way, the giant bonfire paled in comparison to the celestial fireworks I witnessed that night.

A couple of years earlier, I went on an elementary school field trip to the planetarium for a star show. Hearing the narrator tell short stories about the constellations while highlighting them across the giant domed ceiling whetted my appetite for making astronomy a hobby.

At an even younger age, I remember being in the old Suburban with my family, when my dad pulled the car over alongside a field and told us to get out. It was that night that I learned about the Big Dipper and the North Star. The sky was big that night, and all of the stars were awake. I fell in love with stars in that awe-inspiring moment. Perhaps by fate, my first constellation was also my high school mascot: The Bear, and our yearbook is titled, “Ursa.”

Last night, a few Perseids made an appearance at our Star Party. I love that my daughter and I will always have shared experiences like this to cherish. I hope that I am paying it forward by stirring up in her a curiosity about the stars. I hope that she also feels moved while being still, grounded while staring into the expanse of the heavens, and filled with faith that something amazing is about to happen.