January 18, 1994
This past Saturday marked the 20th anniversary of my grandparents opening up their home to me.
It may seem odd to have an anniversary with someone other than your significant other, but if you know me at all, you know that I love any reason to celebrate. Birthdays, work milestones, romantic anniversaries: I am all over it. Few things bring me greater joy than celebrating an important moment with someone, especially if I deeply care for the person. I also love cupcakes, so I think those two lend well to one another.
[I just took 15 minutes to raid my kitchen for something that resembled a cupcake. No dice.]
To my initial point, we Skyped together to celebrate the day – which entailed of neither one of them fully sitting in front of the camera, but both speaking too loudly into the microphone. We spent much of our time on Skype reflecting about how we came to meet on January 18, 1994 and the other important milestones that helped form our unique family.
I was born into a world of irresponsibility, addiction and violence. At only three years old, my father took me from my San Diego home and drove through the night to The Woodlands, TX – where he left me with the strangers I'd later come to love as the McMahon family. As fortune would have it, they had the resources to spend the next four years searching for information about who I was and where my family lived. In January 1994, they succeeded and arranged for my grandparents to visit from Nebraska to meet me. Although I greatly cherished my “foster” family, I was ready to become my grandparents’ new daughter the moment they suggested we go see Beethoven's 2nd on January 18, 1994 (clearly I had some pretty high standards for who could be my parents at that age).
And just like that, January 18th became one of those defining dates for me and will always be. It isn't that all those days that followed were marshmallows and rainbow sherbet, but it was a turning point for my life. It was the moment I knew who I could turn to during my most influential years: the ups, the downs, the everything. (2018 edit: Here are some of the ups.)
My grandparents quickly shed their traditional roles to become my parents. I didn't inherit the grandma I read about it in books or saw on film: The grandmother who bakes cookies, cuddles and coddles. In fact, The Nana only coddled me once. It was shortly after my left foot was amputated (that's another story) and I was having the 8-year-old version of an emotional breakdown because I thought I couldn't play kickball during recess. She grabbed me by both arms and crouched down to my height to say, “You've got very important work to do, my dear. Life has chosen you well.” Beyond that moment, The Nana was as tough as nails and is only now starting to soften at 83 years old (shhh, I didn't tell you that).
I understand why she thought she had to be – especially when she was 70 trying to raise a 13-year-old girl. Two generations my senior, I inherited a vast knowledge of proper table settings, Gregory Peck (swoon) and The BBC classic, Keeping Up Appearances (i.e. the life of my grandparents' doppelgängers). But it also meant I wasn't allowed to wear denim jeans until junior high, call boys until high school and stay out past 11 o'clock until college. I hated it, but she never relented; she always had "bigger than life" aspirations for me and was determined to keep me on the straight and narrow. And I still know I can turn to her on my most difficult days and she will give me the push I need to move forward. After all, she is the strongest person I know.
On the other side of the parental coin is my grandpa, commonly known as "Gee" to my friends (and "wrapped around Alia's little finger" to my grandmother). He is the best person I know – and not just because of my perception of him as a father figure, but because he is just a good person. And anyone who has ever met him will likely say the same. I have friends who still send him birthday cards despite not having seen him in years; even Eric and Laura send him gifts and they have only ever heard stories about him.
Growing up, people would give us odd looks as they tried to figure out if he was my dad or my grandpa and would ultimately just say, "Oh, you look just like him!" I always got a kick out of this because we aren't even related. He adopted all of my grandmother's children and never had any of his own. He actually told me last Saturday that he thinks the reason we are so close is because he was retired when raising me and could devote all of his energy to doing so. He was there every morning to make my oatmeal and toast (which he also served daily to our English Springers because that's what kind of person he is), attempt to clasp my necklaces and lace my shoes, and was there the minute I got home to ask about my day.
Everyone who knows him loves him, including every dog I've encountered while with him. Even the McMahon's rottweilers would turn to marshmallows when he was near. And that says something – because I firmly believe a dog is the very best judge of character. They must see in him what I do: compassion, consideration, humility and just a good soul. I can only hope others were as fortunate to have such a positive influence in their lives while growing up.
***
The significance of our anniversary has been on my mind a lot lately; I've been sharing random Nana-isms with friends and just requested time off from work in March so I can stay true to my pledge to visit them every 6-8 weeks. This actually prompted one of my friends to ask about my pledge -- if the reason I promised to visit so often was because I'm scared I don't have much time with them. It caught me off guard because no one had asked that before... and because, I suppose, on some level I am. I don't like to think like this, but yes, I feel our daughter/parent relationship may not see the great timespan others do because of the 50+ years between us. At the same time, I know that can be true with any relationship. The best way I view it? By focusing on the fact I know I will never, ever regret buying a plane ticket or using my vacation days to go see them. And this isn't just because I know my grandpa may have a Dairy Queen ice cream cake waiting for me on the other side.
In the days following our 20th anniversary, I can't help but think about how that date drastically changed the course of my life. Gone are the days of my teenage angsty ways and I can now recognize how Nana and Gee taught me everything I aspire to be as a parent, all while being my grandparents. So, here's to them and many, many more January 18th's.
***
If you're feeling inspired, perhaps treat your next birthday as an anniversary with your parents or those who molded you into the adult you are today. It may throw them for a loop, but you could even send them a card or a cupcake. Because nothing is better than a cupcake. And on that note, I'm going to go raid the kitchen again...
It may seem odd to have an anniversary with someone other than your significant other, but if you know me at all, you know that I love any reason to celebrate. Birthdays, work milestones, romantic anniversaries: I am all over it. Few things bring me greater joy than celebrating an important moment with someone, especially if I deeply care for the person. I also love cupcakes, so I think those two lend well to one another.
[I just took 15 minutes to raid my kitchen for something that resembled a cupcake. No dice.]
To my initial point, we Skyped together to celebrate the day – which entailed of neither one of them fully sitting in front of the camera, but both speaking too loudly into the microphone. We spent much of our time on Skype reflecting about how we came to meet on January 18, 1994 and the other important milestones that helped form our unique family.
I was born into a world of irresponsibility, addiction and violence. At only three years old, my father took me from my San Diego home and drove through the night to The Woodlands, TX – where he left me with the strangers I'd later come to love as the McMahon family. As fortune would have it, they had the resources to spend the next four years searching for information about who I was and where my family lived. In January 1994, they succeeded and arranged for my grandparents to visit from Nebraska to meet me. Although I greatly cherished my “foster” family, I was ready to become my grandparents’ new daughter the moment they suggested we go see Beethoven's 2nd on January 18, 1994 (clearly I had some pretty high standards for who could be my parents at that age).
And just like that, January 18th became one of those defining dates for me and will always be. It isn't that all those days that followed were marshmallows and rainbow sherbet, but it was a turning point for my life. It was the moment I knew who I could turn to during my most influential years: the ups, the downs, the everything. (2018 edit: Here are some of the ups.)
 |
| The Nana: As feisty as her red hair suggests. |
I understand why she thought she had to be – especially when she was 70 trying to raise a 13-year-old girl. Two generations my senior, I inherited a vast knowledge of proper table settings, Gregory Peck (swoon) and The BBC classic, Keeping Up Appearances (i.e. the life of my grandparents' doppelgängers). But it also meant I wasn't allowed to wear denim jeans until junior high, call boys until high school and stay out past 11 o'clock until college. I hated it, but she never relented; she always had "bigger than life" aspirations for me and was determined to keep me on the straight and narrow. And I still know I can turn to her on my most difficult days and she will give me the push I need to move forward. After all, she is the strongest person I know.
 |
| Gee: Always playing tricks. |
Growing up, people would give us odd looks as they tried to figure out if he was my dad or my grandpa and would ultimately just say, "Oh, you look just like him!" I always got a kick out of this because we aren't even related. He adopted all of my grandmother's children and never had any of his own. He actually told me last Saturday that he thinks the reason we are so close is because he was retired when raising me and could devote all of his energy to doing so. He was there every morning to make my oatmeal and toast (which he also served daily to our English Springers because that's what kind of person he is), attempt to clasp my necklaces and lace my shoes, and was there the minute I got home to ask about my day.
Everyone who knows him loves him, including every dog I've encountered while with him. Even the McMahon's rottweilers would turn to marshmallows when he was near. And that says something – because I firmly believe a dog is the very best judge of character. They must see in him what I do: compassion, consideration, humility and just a good soul. I can only hope others were as fortunate to have such a positive influence in their lives while growing up.
***
The significance of our anniversary has been on my mind a lot lately; I've been sharing random Nana-isms with friends and just requested time off from work in March so I can stay true to my pledge to visit them every 6-8 weeks. This actually prompted one of my friends to ask about my pledge -- if the reason I promised to visit so often was because I'm scared I don't have much time with them. It caught me off guard because no one had asked that before... and because, I suppose, on some level I am. I don't like to think like this, but yes, I feel our daughter/parent relationship may not see the great timespan others do because of the 50+ years between us. At the same time, I know that can be true with any relationship. The best way I view it? By focusing on the fact I know I will never, ever regret buying a plane ticket or using my vacation days to go see them. And this isn't just because I know my grandpa may have a Dairy Queen ice cream cake waiting for me on the other side.
 |
| My life circa January 1994. |
***
If you're feeling inspired, perhaps treat your next birthday as an anniversary with your parents or those who molded you into the adult you are today. It may throw them for a loop, but you could even send them a card or a cupcake. Because nothing is better than a cupcake. And on that note, I'm going to go raid the kitchen again...
I love you lil sis <3
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