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Oh, Love Be a Lady Tonight
Dec. 9th, 2007 09:14 pmThis weekend Mike, Mary Ann, the kids and I headed to College Station where we picked up Chris and Tashina, Chris's girlfriend. Afterwards we all went to Lovelady, Texas, where my great-uncle J.T. lives. He and his wife, Betty, celebrated their fiftieth wedding anniversary this weekend and held a large party at the Lovelady Gym. My family, for one reason or another, was prevented from going to the last several reunions, so it was fun to see family again. Of course, several people couldn't make it, but a good 100 people were there or so, with about half or more being family. We introduced Tashi to everyone and repeated the joke that if she ever got confused, she could call them John. We have an Uncle John, John Jr., Little John, and Uncle J.T. (John Thomas).
Aunt Sharon and her children and their families; Aunt Debbie and Uncle Allen, with their children and grandchildren; my grandfather's sister, Aunt Clara, who is twenty years older than he is; Aunt Grace and Uncle Larry; and others were there. We mingled and made rounds, saying hi once to Uncle J.T. and Aunt Betty before they were swept away by well-wishers. I have always had a fondness for the both of them. Uncle J.T. is a weathered man with a broad, square face, and still has dark hair with only the beginnings of gray sprinkled through. He has a deep voice that sounds like he gargles gravel in the mornings and possesses a thick East Texas accent when he speaks at all. Aunt Betty is a sweet woman with white hair, blue eyes, and a voice that always seems to sputter. Uncle J.T. raises cattle and vegetables and is a steadfastly practical man. His devotionals during Sunday were overwhelmingly stark compared to the complexity of my grandfather's. They were also, blessedly, short.
After everyone filtered out and Aunt Sharon and I helped clean up, I had the oppourtunity to speak with Uncle J.T. for a brief period. Regretfully, we had to leave, but I hugged him goodbye and promised to visit. On the way through East Texas, I was struck again by how homesick I felt from Houston. I grew up among pine tree forests and great tracts of land with creeks ambling congenially through the midst of it. San Antonio is nothing like that. It is dry and barren, covered with sand and scrub bushes and dotted by cacti. There is no gentle rain, nor impressive thunderstorms; it is consistently hot and arid. The city is even worse, with rude people and garish colors, like Las Vegas except without the charm of knowing its shortcomings. San Antonio is garishly ignorant of its own ugliness. Though I want to travel the world and plan to do so, when I finally do settle down, it will be in East Texas. It is the only place on this Earth that I have completely fallen in love with.
Grandma made cornbread and soup for dinner and we gathered around the kitchen table to pray. My grandfather, who is notorious for giving lengthy prayers, was about to say the prayer while Grandma kept throwing anxious glances at the stove.
"The cornbread should be done any minute now," she said to him. "So try not to--" She cut herself off suddenly, as if realizing the sacrilegiousness of it.
I laughed and looked at Paw-Paw. "Hear that? I think she just told you to keep your prayer short!"
"It never worked when we asked," Uncle John said with a grin.
Dinner was delicious, and later Tashi, Chris, and I watched The Quiet Man and Oscar, then fell asleep.
I woke up this morning to the sound of Mike relating a dream wherein his teeth all fell out. Finally realizing I was not going to get back to sleep, I pulled myself off the couch and went into the kitchen and helped myself to homemade biscuits with raspberry preserves.
All of us sat around for a while, with Uncle Joel and his family showing up, and we played with Shannon, Joey, and Jodel before church. Jodel, who is just old enough to walk, is silent and has huge, dark eyes that stare at you expressionessly. I have never seen a child with such a poker face. She is usually reserved around people, but let me pick her up and even snuggled her head into my neck. Joey, naturally, got jealous and ran over to tug at my pantsleg and grin up at me in the endearing way he has.
We sang two of my favorite hymns, two Christmas songs, and listened to Grandpa's message. Afterwards, I sketched their curved staircase, decorated with garland curled around the rails. It was all very pretty. We left after lunch and dropped Tashi and Chris off to College Station to study for finals. I drove the rest of the way home, which was an adventure. I learned to drive on a truck, but the Expedition tilts oddly and it took me a while to get used to it. Worse, it was growing dark and raining a bit, so I was quite tense. Usually music relaxes me, but Shannon pitched a fit and they put on Lady and the Tramp to appease her. Still, the drive from College Station to San Antonio is a pretty one. The rain even would have been welcome were it not for the unfamiliarity of the vehicle I was driving. One of the roads was covered with a fine sheen of water that reflected the sky; I felt as if I were driving on a broad strip of blue satin ribbon.
We made it home and I wandered about Mike and Mary Ann's house, straightening things and cleaning. Mike and I watched a few episodes of The Red Green Show on the couch, each thinking about work tomorrow.
A very nice trip, all in all. I even had the great pleasure of being able to read The Great Gatsby and The Awakening during the past two days. I quite enjoyed The Great Gatsby, more so when I read it for pleasure rather than for class, although I still feel as if he goes overboard on the symbols. That said, The Awakening made use of the most unsubtle symbolism I have ever read--and I am an Ayn Rand fan. The sheer pleasure of being able to read, no matter the book, quite made up for any shortcomings.
Were it not for the list of to-do's I have before me, this week would be a very pleasant one, as well. I plan on cleaning the house, for one thing, and enjoying its cleanliness for an entire week that Mom and Dad are gone. It should be very relaxing.
"For a transitory enchanted moment man must have held his breath in the presence of this continent, compelled into an aesthetic contemplation he neither understood nor desired, face to face for the last time in history with something commensurate to his capacity for wonder."
--Nick Carraway in The Great Gatsby
Aunt Sharon and her children and their families; Aunt Debbie and Uncle Allen, with their children and grandchildren; my grandfather's sister, Aunt Clara, who is twenty years older than he is; Aunt Grace and Uncle Larry; and others were there. We mingled and made rounds, saying hi once to Uncle J.T. and Aunt Betty before they were swept away by well-wishers. I have always had a fondness for the both of them. Uncle J.T. is a weathered man with a broad, square face, and still has dark hair with only the beginnings of gray sprinkled through. He has a deep voice that sounds like he gargles gravel in the mornings and possesses a thick East Texas accent when he speaks at all. Aunt Betty is a sweet woman with white hair, blue eyes, and a voice that always seems to sputter. Uncle J.T. raises cattle and vegetables and is a steadfastly practical man. His devotionals during Sunday were overwhelmingly stark compared to the complexity of my grandfather's. They were also, blessedly, short.
After everyone filtered out and Aunt Sharon and I helped clean up, I had the oppourtunity to speak with Uncle J.T. for a brief period. Regretfully, we had to leave, but I hugged him goodbye and promised to visit. On the way through East Texas, I was struck again by how homesick I felt from Houston. I grew up among pine tree forests and great tracts of land with creeks ambling congenially through the midst of it. San Antonio is nothing like that. It is dry and barren, covered with sand and scrub bushes and dotted by cacti. There is no gentle rain, nor impressive thunderstorms; it is consistently hot and arid. The city is even worse, with rude people and garish colors, like Las Vegas except without the charm of knowing its shortcomings. San Antonio is garishly ignorant of its own ugliness. Though I want to travel the world and plan to do so, when I finally do settle down, it will be in East Texas. It is the only place on this Earth that I have completely fallen in love with.
Grandma made cornbread and soup for dinner and we gathered around the kitchen table to pray. My grandfather, who is notorious for giving lengthy prayers, was about to say the prayer while Grandma kept throwing anxious glances at the stove.
"The cornbread should be done any minute now," she said to him. "So try not to--" She cut herself off suddenly, as if realizing the sacrilegiousness of it.
I laughed and looked at Paw-Paw. "Hear that? I think she just told you to keep your prayer short!"
"It never worked when we asked," Uncle John said with a grin.
Dinner was delicious, and later Tashi, Chris, and I watched The Quiet Man and Oscar, then fell asleep.
I woke up this morning to the sound of Mike relating a dream wherein his teeth all fell out. Finally realizing I was not going to get back to sleep, I pulled myself off the couch and went into the kitchen and helped myself to homemade biscuits with raspberry preserves.
All of us sat around for a while, with Uncle Joel and his family showing up, and we played with Shannon, Joey, and Jodel before church. Jodel, who is just old enough to walk, is silent and has huge, dark eyes that stare at you expressionessly. I have never seen a child with such a poker face. She is usually reserved around people, but let me pick her up and even snuggled her head into my neck. Joey, naturally, got jealous and ran over to tug at my pantsleg and grin up at me in the endearing way he has.
We sang two of my favorite hymns, two Christmas songs, and listened to Grandpa's message. Afterwards, I sketched their curved staircase, decorated with garland curled around the rails. It was all very pretty. We left after lunch and dropped Tashi and Chris off to College Station to study for finals. I drove the rest of the way home, which was an adventure. I learned to drive on a truck, but the Expedition tilts oddly and it took me a while to get used to it. Worse, it was growing dark and raining a bit, so I was quite tense. Usually music relaxes me, but Shannon pitched a fit and they put on Lady and the Tramp to appease her. Still, the drive from College Station to San Antonio is a pretty one. The rain even would have been welcome were it not for the unfamiliarity of the vehicle I was driving. One of the roads was covered with a fine sheen of water that reflected the sky; I felt as if I were driving on a broad strip of blue satin ribbon.
We made it home and I wandered about Mike and Mary Ann's house, straightening things and cleaning. Mike and I watched a few episodes of The Red Green Show on the couch, each thinking about work tomorrow.
A very nice trip, all in all. I even had the great pleasure of being able to read The Great Gatsby and The Awakening during the past two days. I quite enjoyed The Great Gatsby, more so when I read it for pleasure rather than for class, although I still feel as if he goes overboard on the symbols. That said, The Awakening made use of the most unsubtle symbolism I have ever read--and I am an Ayn Rand fan. The sheer pleasure of being able to read, no matter the book, quite made up for any shortcomings.
Were it not for the list of to-do's I have before me, this week would be a very pleasant one, as well. I plan on cleaning the house, for one thing, and enjoying its cleanliness for an entire week that Mom and Dad are gone. It should be very relaxing.
"For a transitory enchanted moment man must have held his breath in the presence of this continent, compelled into an aesthetic contemplation he neither understood nor desired, face to face for the last time in history with something commensurate to his capacity for wonder."
--Nick Carraway in The Great Gatsby
