Entries Tagged 'Family' ↓

The Internet is a wonderful thing. It allows people to communicate over vast distances, sometimes without benefit of ever having actually met.

A few years ago, I created a listserv for members of my mother�s side of the family. At the time there were plans for a family reunion in the works and I thought it might aid in the organizing.

Years later and since many family reside in Louisiana, that same list serves to connect distant relatives spread out across the country as we try to find out how family members are managing during the aftermath of Katrina.

The past two days have brought good news. A great many of them evacuated to Baton Rouge, where they are safe and in the care of other relatives. Homes may be damaged or lost but at least people are safe. There are still one or two unaccounted for however and we are keeping them in our prayers.

Ironically, the Internet also brought news of a relative I didn�t even know I had. Reading another blog, we found another member of the Nero clan. Small world.

My Mom and Dad mark their 56th wedding anniversary today. That is a long time for two people to be together.

It is a bittersweet anniversary. As I have mentioned here before, Dad is 84 years old and has advanced stages of Alzheimer�s disease. He has lost much of his ability to communicate coherently, has no concept of time or place, and very often does not recognize family members, including my Mother. In an email recently, she said he was laying in bed and looked at her quizzically before asking, �Did you marry me?� She was amused and thought perhaps vague recollections of the bits and pieces of their lives together float around in his mind.

Mom turns 80 herself in just 10 days. She would otherwise not observe this day were it not for my brothers and I calling or sending cards and gifts. In addition to being primary caretaker for her husband, she is now the sole custodian of their collective memories. Only she remembers now how they met in the late 1940�s, she the editor of the women�s section of a Black-owned newspaper in her native New Orleans, he a World War II veteran and Dallas native who had just started in the sales department. She was already engaged to some other guy and was about to leave for grad school at the University of Wisconsin. He was immediately taken by her and at her farewell party, struck up a conversation realizing it might be his only opportunity.

He asked her if he could write to her while she was away up north. She said yes, and for several years across thousands of miles, including his move to New York to attend grad school at NYU, they exchanged nothing but letters. Lots of letters. If memory serves me, he may have even proposed in a letter. They exchanged wedding vows on this date in 1949. �In sickness and in health, til death do us part� has now taken on real significance.

Through moves to Pennsylvania and Illinois (where my three oldest brothers were born) before finally settling in upstate New York, where the last three of their sons were born, they have not only raised a family but given an awful lot back to the community. There is a room in their house with walls full of plaques, recognizing and thanking them for years of voluntary service for a multitude of causes. Their work both professionally and in the community put them in contact with homeless, illiterate and destitute people as well as every U.S. President from Lyndon Johnson to Ronald Reagan. But they always taught us that none of us are any better than any other and we all have a responsibility respect each other and make this world a better place.

But by no means were these 56 years without problems. There were fights (never physical), long simmering disagreements, financial problems and disappointments in each other that played out behind closed doors, although my brothers and I could often hear them. But never did they let their disputes with each other interfere with giving love and support to their children. They didn�t cut and run, bailout or seek easy solutions that would have disrupted the stability of our home. They worked it out and ultimately realized the value of their partnership.

They have been my role models in so many ways, not the least of which is in modeling the type of relationship I dream of having. I won�t live to see that many years spent with anyone, but do hope to one day meet someone who understands the meaning of the word commitment.

As they live out their remaining years together, the day-to-day duties of being a couple become a true test of that commitment and a living testament to the meaning of love.

I�m back from my trip upstate for Thanksgiving, a day earlier than usual because I�ve got homework to tackle and a busy week ahead.

I�m completely over any alleged or presumed stigma attached with being a 44 year old man who still goes �home� for the holidays. Hell, I have no family here in the city and mom and dad still maintain the house I grew up in. Why shouldn�t I go? Frankly, I think you�d find me riding the subway babbling incoherently to myself if I were stuck in the city, left to eat alone. Holiday dinner in a restaurant is nothing to be thankful for as far as I�m concerned.

Besides, I like my family and enjoy going home, and with my new hecticisms, don�t get to do it nearly enough. And did I mention Mom lays out a great spread?

Mr. Culinary School Student here had some crazy idea he�d �help� the woman who taught him most of what he knows about cooking. Ha! She didn�t need my help, thank you, beyond cutting one onion, one stalk of celery and one carrot, typing up and printing out the dinner menu (yes, at Mom�s restaurant there is a menu for guests to view), and setting the table. This kitchen wasn�t taking on any holiday staff apparently.

Now I come from a large family, and in past years, extended family showed up and there were a lot of people to be fed. But this year, my brothers with families of their own stayed at their homes for dinner. There were only four of us, but Mom has always had difficulty cooking for small groups, so we had lots of leftovers. I did my best to make up for absent siblings.

For the curious, dinner at Chez Tarver began with a chilled fruit cup, followed by the chef�s famous Shrimp Gumbo appetizer. The main entree was Rosemary Roasted Chicken, Honey-baked Ham, Butternut Squash, String bean Casserole, Cornbread Dressing and Gravy, and Cranberry Sauce. For dessert, a choice of Apple, Pecan and Sweet Potato Pie. We had pretty much finished off the last of the leftovers when I departed.

So a small group of New York area bloggersgot together to lunch with a certain visitor from Atlanta, and while his stay was a brief one (he was the last to arrive and the first to leave) a good time was had by all. It was my first face to face with two of the bunch and having already been impressed by their blogs, I was equally delighted to make their acquaintance.

We dined like the kings and queens we are at a Brazilian restaurant in the Times Square district, Churrascaria Plataforma. I don’t speak Portuguese, but I think loosely translated, that means “feed them until they burst.” The prix fixe menu allowed us to first pick from a very diverse menu at a large salad bar, then once seated, a strolling band of waiters brought a never-ending supply of various meats including top round of beef, flank steak, lamb, pork, salmon, spare ribs, and chicken. They carve it right onto your plate and keep bringing it until you indicate you’ve had enough by turning over a small coaster on the table. It’s so hard to self-regulate when it comes to food. Oh, then they brought dessert.

If you go, bring lots of money. We each took shifts washing and drying dishes and folding the table linen to pay for it all. And check the soccer schedule before you go. We were there when the Brazil versus Argentina match was up on the large screen tv. Those fans sure can make a lot of noise.

UPDATE Note to self: Consider becoming a vegan. My old metabolism does not process red meat like it used to. Twelve hours later I was still a hurtin’ puppy.

I love my father. I think my love for him grows a little bit more every time I get a chance to go home and take care of him. He requires so much attention now that he just takes all the energy out of me. For the life of me, I don�t know how my mother does it every day, especially now that she is ailing physically herself.

Going home for the weekend I was able to give Mom two and a half days of relief so she could do some of the things she needed to do, but it also gave me quality time with Dad. He fought me whenever I tried to bathe him, but its always an amusing fight. The desire to resist doing anything he can�t comprehend is hardwired into his personality and it�s just interesting to watch him put up a fight for reasons he doesn�t even understand. But he always lets you dress him, and Saturday even let me give him a haircut and a shave. We sat on the porch and later listened to a CD he likes. That night he was even cooperative getting ready for bed.

This reversal of roles, while not an easy one, helps me to appreciate and understand the basic cycle of life.