FOR MOM, WITH LOVE, PART TWO

It's sad that we never think to share favorite memories about people who are important to us until after they are gone. Case in point-my last blog. In honor of my mother's birthday, I would like to share some fond moments we have shared.
One of my mother's favorite holidays is Christmas, so I have many memories from that time of year:

• She always baked goody packages for her friends and my sisters and I were enlisted to frost dozens of sugar cookies.
• She made advent calendars out of old Christmas cards.
• She always picked the 'Charlie Brown' tree because she said no one else would pick it and the bare side could face the wall.
• While we were at school, she would put out all the Christmas decorations (leaving the tree because we always decorated it together). Upon seeing the decorations, I knew to look for several Christmas elves she had hidden in plain sight throughout the house.
• For several years, she and I made the traditional gingerbread house. The most elaborate of which was a three story mansion with field stone walls painted on with frosting (one of which we had to remake after our dog, Maggie, ate it-but that is a whole other set of memories).

She enjoyed having dinner parties and would often try unusual dishes. Once she tried to make a bombe (the ice cream desert, not the explosive device), but the ice cream was too soft so she flung the whole container into the sink. At the time things were quite tense, but now she and I laugh about it.

I remember going to Disneyland when I was 8. Everyone wanted to go in the Haunted House except me. Hello, people were screaming in there! I didn't know it was fake. Anyway, my mom told me to wait on a bench out front for them. She has since said the thought that she did that has given her chills, but I wasn't afraid at all.

On another trip to Northern Michigan, we left early because she wanted to take a scenic drive before breakfast. Long story short, my sisters and I complained endlessly because it took forever. Although I now enjoy taking them, the words scenic drive always make my stomach growl.

When I moved back home, I lived with her in her cozy 'cottage by a lake'. She had the most beautiful flower gardens. I have always envied her green thumb, a gift I was not blessed with. While living with her again, we shared many more special moments: Sunday evenings watching pbs and Mondays watching Antique Roadshow; stories about her youth I had never heard before; a wonderful dinner she cooked for my friend, Dana.

It was during this dinner that Dana pointed out something about my mother that I have always loved, even though I barely noticed it anymore. Dana heard my mom singing and commented about it. My mother is always singing, whether she is playing music or cooking or walking through the house. And I have always loved it. Her voice is so much the soundtrack to my life. She has even made up songs for us that my sisters and I remember to this day. And I am blessed with the same love of song. I don't sing nearly as much (or as well) as she does, but when a song starts playing that I love, I will belt out a few notes.

There you have it. Those are but a few of the numerous great memories I have. I am so proud to say that Marjorie Lightner is my mother. She has such a wonderful soul. And even though I live thousands of miles away, I can feel how much she loves me. Thank you, Mom, for being the person you are. I love you.

FOR YOU, MOM, WITH LOVE

My mom asked me for some memories of my grandmother (her mom) for a long-overdue memorial that she will be doing. I decided I would post them, so anyone who may read this could know.
The biggest thing I remember about my grandmother was the little things my sisters and I always did when we stayed at her house. We each had our own tea set and mug for hot chocolate. We also had our own small pitcher sets that we used to hold milk and sugar cubes. Why we put milk and sugar in hot chocolate is odd, but it was tradition. My grandmother had the biggest bed; yet, it became quite small when you had to try to fall asleep to her snoring. It became a race to beat her to sleep (something I was never able to do). She was the first person I knew to have a tv with a remote-one of the ones with 4 buttons: on/off, channel up, channel down, and volume. I can still hear the clicking sound it made. I also can still smell her house. It wasn't a bad smell, just distinguishable. And I still smell it. I remember Christmas mornings at her house. My sisters and I could choose one gift from home to bring with us and I remember bringing Candyland one year.
But the one thing I would share with someone who never knew my grandmother is that she is my hero. When she passed away, she had gone everywhere in the world she wanted to go. And she went to some pretty cool places. I remember her telling about riding a camel. She also went to the Wailing Wall in Jerusalem. Not only did she go to the wall, but she went to the men's side. She said she wanted to see if it was different. That's what I liked most about her. She always seemed fearless to me. She never seemed to let life pass her by. That's why she's my hero.

THE MOTHER OF INVENTION

I should be going to sleep right now, but I have to comment on something. I love the weather here! Two days ago it was hot-and not just for this area. It was 90 degrees! Today it barely reached 65. That is what is so cool. Sure it may be a foreboding of what's to come, but tonight there is an amazing fog rolling across the valley. It made me recognize how someone (Mr. Carpenter and Mr. King for example) could visualize this natural phenomenon as being an evil sweeping down on the 'innocent.' I speak, of course, of the movie The Fog and the story The Mist respectively. Both are prime examples of what a warped, twisted, lovely mind can come up with when given something so common and typically benign. I have not seen the recent film adaptation of the the latter and I'm not sure I want to. I have found that Hollywood does not do a good job of interpreting Stephen King's books. And despite my many gripes about his latest publications, there is nothing creepier than his old-school shit. Makes me want to reread some of it.

WALLOWING IN THE UN'S

I dreamed I was missing
You were so scared
But no one would listen
'Cause no one else cares
After my dreaming
I woke with this fear
What am I leaving?
When I'm done here
So if you're asking me I want you to know

When my time comes
Forget the one that I've done
Help me leave behind some reasons to be missed
And don't resent me
And when you're feeling empty
Keep me in your memory
Leave out all the rest
Leave out all the rest

Don't be afraid
I've taken my bail
I've shed when I'm near
I'm struggling to surface
Not all the way through
I've never been perfect
But neither have you
So if you're asking me I want you to know

When my time comes
Forget the one that I've done
Help me leave behind some reasons to be missed
Don't resent me
And when you're feeling empty
Keep me in your memory
Leave out all the rest
Leave out all the rest

Forgetting all the hurt inside
You've learned to have so well
Pretending someone else can come and save me
From myself
I can't be who you are

When my time comes
Forget the one that I've done
Help me leave behind some reasons to be missed
Don't resent me
And when you're feeling empty
Keep me in your memory
Leave out all the rest
Leave out all the rest

Forgetting all the hurt inside
You've learned to have so well
Pretending someone else can come and save me
From myself
I can't be who you are
I can't be who you are

Leave Out All The Rest, Linkin Park