Merry, Exhausted, and Content

 

It's nice viewing everyone's Facebook posts about the recent holiday season. Though I didn't share much about my own time, I feel it is important to talk about it now.

My heart has never been fuller. From the special gift buying this year- I took my time early and carefully to find truly special items for my loved ones- to my true exhaustion this evening, I have never been happier.

The Christmas week began with a visit to my brother's home which is our parent's old home. There they were, special ornaments tucked here and there, little memories of times past, warming my heart and giving me the kind of glow that only family can give. We spent time watching the new "Ralphie" movie which in itself was extremely nostalgic. Mom and Dad adored the original and watched it over and over annoying us to no end sometimes. But at the center of that movie is a message: family is everything, even dysfunctional and imperfect. Christmas is special, and "The Old Man" was truly the spirit of Christmas when he knew the exact gift Ralphie really wanted.

When the movie was over, tears coursed their way down my cheeks as I remember my own "Old Man" and how he made Christmas so very special for us all. My brother and I took time looking at old Christmas albums together, scratched and worn, a bit broken even, but every little nuance of our parents was indelibly marked upon them.

Christmas day itself was spent with dear ones. My brother and family met us at Matt's house to have a little food and the usual several hour opening of the gifts. Even my nieces were in on it now. There was a warmth, a respect, and a lot of love around that living room. I know in my heart that my son adores having company, and even that in itself gave me such joy.

We visited with my step-daughter and family the week before, making a mess of a gingerbread house but laughing through it all.  Today we watched our Florida grandchildren, little girls we hardly get to see but were able to spend the whole day with. I've not had a moment's peace this year, but this whirlwind of visiting and people remind me of Ye Olde Times of my youth. When family meant everything, people were exhausted but grateful, and sitting back after a it all helps make some of the best memories ever.

Farewell My Old Friend

 

Did you ever feel that a place you visited was more like an old friend than a destination? That is what Conneaut Lake Park had been in my lifetime. From when I was a little girl up until only about three years ago, this wonderfully nostalgic park held a special place in my heart.

As a small child, we didn't take elaborate vacations. When Dad said, let's pack up the car and go, I knew that it meant the simple one-and-a-half hour trip to Conneaut Lake Park. There, we would find a cheap, small motel or even a cottage. Musty, even with a smattering of mildew, these places were wonderful to me. For two nights and three days, we bonded closely as a family enjoying midway games such as Fascination, balloon darts (which Mom was super good at), and the ever-popular fish pond.

I'd ride ponies in Kiddie Land, drive metal cars around a track and boats with a bell to ring around a type of pool, sit upon elaborate, decorated horses in the carousel, laugh until we almost peed on The Turtle, and especially awaited the trip in a ride-through haunted house.

When my brother came along, we began bringing him to our family fun destination. I know he loved it as much as I did. So many happy days and nights! So many memories made.

My own children enjoyed Conneaut Park in their time too. They spent hours in an old-fashioned arcade playing video games, ski ball, and mostly claw machines. We'd eat corn dogs, pizza, and French fries. We'd enjoy an ice cream cone afterward. 

For all of our generations, The Devils Den, the "haunted ride" was a favorite. There was the familiar smell of grease and metal as you waited on the platform. There were sounds of the clack, clack, clack, as the carts rode along the track. There was anticipation of thrills, squeals, and maybe even a shriek as ghosts, witches and other spooktacular goblins lit up in the darkened hallways as we approached.

One of the more recent and special visits for me was time spent with my son on a Mother's Day just a few years ago. We ate a lovely meal at the Hotel Conneaut, and walked through the quiet park as it awaited a new season. Yes, it was getting a bit old. It was showing signs of neglect. But there had been people who seemed to care as much as we did. They tried renovating, repairing, and adding a little extra zip and newness to the atmosphere of antiquity.

My son adored the extremely frightening, yet very popular Blue Streak rollercoaster. When we first heard it was being torn down last year, our hearts sank. Then, little by little, other bits and pieces of the park were hauled away.

I told myself I didn't want to see it in that condition. I never wanted to be privy to behind-the-scenes of its demolition. Yet this past weekend, I did just that. My heart sank as the sight of weeds and tall grasses growing in every direction. The pit in my stomach widened seeing gaping holes in the landscape of an area which held colorful, fun rides. A wasteland. A waste to me. I wish someone would have been able to make it a historic landmark. I wish it could have been there for future generations and that my own grandchildren would laugh, squeal, play, and know what a simple, but unique vacation spot this park was meant to be.

I am going to mourn a little today. I will tell myself it will be okay. It had to be this way. After all, this is progress, time marching on, money to be made by property that will probably sport condos and such. Future generation won't know what I knew. And you know what? That makes me feel a little special.

Death of a family destination.

Almost impossible to tell what was there.

Sad-looking Devil's Den during demolition.

The Devil's Den in better days

The World of a Child

 Have you spent an afternoon lately with small children, perhaps your grandkids or nieces and nephews? Don't you come away from that time exhausted, yet feeling younger and remembering what it was like to pretend, to wish, to dream, to believe in the unbelievable?

One day, when she was younger, my niece Elena wanted an inexpensive pair of fairy wings in a dollar store. On the ride back home she said, "Auntie Kar, there's a little glitter on your seat." When we got out, not only did she have glitter on her face and hair, but the back seat of my car sparkled and glittered as well. And my heart sparkled too.

I, too, remember what it was like when I was young being a glitter princess; loving all things sparkly and pretty. For I was a girly girl type; a child who loved make believe, pretend, and lands faraway. My mom used to call me a pack rat stating that she always found glittery items in my drawers and in my room. I hoarded these pieces as if they were magical. And they were.

Our beautiful, innocent children hold the key to simplicity and joy. After a few hours playing "school" with my other niece, Elizabeth, I felt smarter and ready for a college degree. It didn't matter that it had been years since I'd been to school. Elizabeth was a tough teacher and she didn't tolerate any misbehavior in her "class." So I sat as a model student and learned all that I could from her. What she didn't realize is that I was learning. The lesson was one of sweetness, simplicity, and patience. The lesson wasn't something I could glean from a book, and I could only get from truly being in the moment with her.

Our world is full of cynicism, intolerance, and anger. News media and social media blast so much anti-everything campaigns that I want to run away for a while. Isn't it refreshing that once a week or so, to run away with two little girls who hold my heart with their simple innocence? I can come away from that time a much "better me."

A Reunion of Love

 

Bebby on Mom's favorite outdoor blanket

Walrus cat is what Dad called you. With whiskers so long; no cat had them like you. Mom called you Baby but pronounced it Bebby. You were that and more to her. Like a little child, but also companion, friend, confidante in the middle of the night. But you were mischievous and a bit sneaky too.

Remember how you worried Mom who tried to keep you as an indoor cat? But you wanted to be free outside in the air to hunt and play. Sometimes you wouldn't return for the longest time. I can picture you lying under a nearby bush having your kitty laugh as she called and called for you. Then she came in and told us, "Baby's gone this time. I know it." But you were never gone... that is, until today.

A promise to Dad as he passed to take care of Mom. And in our hearts, a promise to Mom as she passed that we would take care of you. Oh, you knew, yes you knew when Mom left us and you laid on her blankets where her scent must have been. You looked into our faces with kitty cat questions of "why" and "where" but we had no way to explain to you that Mom had gone home... that is, until today.

Today you met her again. She and Dad and Mya, Buffy, Fluffy, Lady, and those who had been loved, oh so loved as you were. She saw you and you ran; no longer old and tired, but frisky cat body lean and healthy; long legs running as you did as a young kitty. You jumped into her arms and covered her face with kitty kisses and walrus whisker rubs as she called you "My Baby."

Bebby the "Walrus cat"

King of the house