When Nana died, on July 12th, I was already scheduled to fly to Florida on July 15th. I had been planning for months to spend her birthday (July 18th) with her and then fly to Dallas for the annual Mary Kay Seminar (July 21st - 25th). What I had not counted on, obviously, was that Nana would die 6 days before her birthday. Immediately, it became obvious to Mom, Dave, and me that the best way to celebrate Nana was to have her Celebration of Life Service in Crystal Beach, Florida (where she had lived since 1956) on her birthday and then fly her to Batesville, Mississippi, where she was from and had always planned to be buried.
Services were scheduled in Batesville for Tuesday, July 21st and everything seemed to have fallen into place perfectly. I'd get to Dallas on Wednesday the 22nd, the day I really needed to be there and wouldn't have to miss any of the fun or any of Nana's services. That is until I called American Airlines to add in this one little stop in Memphis (the nearest airport to Batesville).
American informed me that to add a quick 24-36 hours in Batesville via Memphis and then on to Dallas would cost me an ADDITIONAL $1100 PLUS $150 to change my ticket. Ugh. I had bought trip insurance, but it wouldn't come close to covering this.
Quickly, I resigned myself to the fact that I couldn't be there to bury Nana. That is until I spoke with my cousin Elesha in Dallas. She had the brilliant idea to change the Dallas leg of my trip and fly in, not on Tuesday, but on Sunday the 19th and she would drive me to Batesville and back all in time for my Mary Kay event. This wasn't some quick Sunday afternoon drive. Batesville is almost 9 hours each way from Dallas. This was HUGE. I argued for a second, but only a second, and then I called American. For only $300, I was able to change my arrival in Dallas and I'd be able to go to Batesville. Wow. (Elesha's grandmother and my Nana are sisters and in addition to attending Nana's service, Elesha also wanted to see her grandmother who's no spring chicken herself.)
I flew into Dallas on Sunday afternoon, and bright and early Monday morning, Elesha and I piled her two kids - ages 7 and 4 - into her car and off we went. Now, I drive to Watervale all the time. But that's only 6 hours max. And I've driven back and forth to DC (12 hours) plenty of times, but it's been almost a decade since I've done that and I never did it with kids. I honestly wasn't sure what to expect.
But her kids were amazing. Sure, they had their moments, but there weren't any meltdowns or major fights. We heard a couple "I gotta go to the bathroom's" and "I'm bored," but all in all, the kids got an A+ for their behavior. I was mighty impressed. That got Elesha and me to talking about road trips when we were kids.
Today's kids have DVD players in the backseat with a library of movies. We had License Plate Bingo. Today's kids have air conditioning they can personalize for their seat to stay cool and comfortable. We hoped our brother didn't fart in our face. Today's kids have roadside oases with every fast food restaurant they can imagine. We had Stuckey's with cardboard "food" if we were getting a treat. Otherwise, we had picnics that consisted of warm, but homemade fried chicken and potato salad made three days earlier. Today's kids have 6-disc CD changers in the car. We had AM Radio. Maybe. Today's kids can count on clean bathrooms. We carried on old coffee can that the whole family used in the car as we were driving down the highway. (I swear I am not making that up). Today's kids have Nintendo DS's that talk to each other. We entertained ourselves by motioning to the truckers to blow their horns. Today's kids have individual car seats. We didn't use seatbelts, slept in the back window or on the floor, and were constantly whining "Mom! He's on my half on the backseat!" Today's kids are well behaved and don't fray their parents' last nerves. We had Mom yelling "If you don't stop that right now, I'm going to turn this car around!" and "Don't make me come back there!"
Now, of course, I still counted the number of Waffle Houses (11) and Stuckey's (1) we saw, but some things never change, no matter how old we get and I did it more out of curiosity than anything else. For the record, we didn't stop at either.
Reminiscing made us laugh a lot, which I desperately needed. Even though it was for a sad reason, I had a blast with Elesha and her adorable children. She's a great mom, a great cousin, and an awesome friend. I can't believe I thought for one second I wouldn't go to Nana's burial and I'm eternally grateful that she made it possible for me to attend.
Showing posts with label grandmothers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label grandmothers. Show all posts
Friday, July 31, 2009
Monday, June 8, 2009
Mrs. Paulk Goes to Washington
About 10:30 this morning, I received one of those dreaded phone calls. It was from my mom and she was calling to tell me that something happened with Nana last night and she wasn't expected to live through the week. My mom gave me the details of what happened with Nana, but all I heard was "Nana is dying," so I can't explain to you what my mom told me.
Many of you know about my Nana and know about the long ordeal we've had with her over the last 7 years. Newer readers of LMS probably don't know about my Nana. Frances Paulk is my maternal grandmother, my heroine, and my rock and it breaks my heart into 10 million pieces seeing her suffer. You can read more about her in these blog posts.
After I spoke with mom and wiped the tears from my face, I spent most of my day feeling numb. I also got to thinking about some of my favorite memories with Nana.
In the fall of 1994, my uncle graduated from medical school in upstate New York. On her return flight to Florida, Nana had an hour layover in DC, where I'd been living for almost 18 months. Because Washington National Airport (now Reagan National Airport, UGH!) was just a few Metro stops from my office, I suggested that I meet Nana during my lunch hour. And then I had one of my most brilliant ideas.
Almost 80 years old, Nana had never visited Washington DC. As a surprise, I called the airline and arranged to have her layover changed from an hour to four hours. In retrospect, I'm not sure how she didn't know about this change, but when I met her at the gate and let her know of the change of plans, she sure did act surprised. We were going to use her layover to tour DC.
We hopped on the Metro (DC's subway) and rode it across the Potomac River and back into the District. Getting off directly under my office building, our first stop was my office at Hogan & Hartson. As we walked into the lobby and into my office (not a cubicle), she beamed with pride. Because I had just gotten a promotion, I had also just received my first business card. I gave her one that day and she carried it in her wallet until she stopped carrying a wallet.
We left my office and took a cab to my apartment. Although it was only about 6 or 7 blocks away, this was further than I thought she could easily walk and didn't want to spend our precious time walking. I wanted her to see as much of DC as possible in the short amount of time we had. It was from the window of my apartment that she first saw the Capitol and that was the first of many times that day she would say to me "In all my years, I never thought I'd see DC. I read about it in history books, but I never thought I'd walk in the city where George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, and Abe Lincoln walked."
We grabbed another cab and I explained to the driver that my Nana had never visited DC before and that before he took us back to Washington National, I wanted him to show us everything. As luck would have it, he was a fountain of knowledge and eagerly drove us from my apartment to the Capitol, past the National Mall, to the Washington Monument, down Constitution Avenue to the Lincoln Memorial, up to National Cathedral, down Massachusetts Avenue past Embassy Row, down 16th Street to Pennsylvania Avenue and slowly in front of the White House, over to the Jefferson Memorial, across the 14th Street Bridge and the Potomac River, to the George Washington Parkway and to the airport.
The whole way, Nana sat with her face glued to the cab window taking in the sites not knowing if she'd ever return to the District. The only words she was able to speak were "I never thought I'd see Washington." When she finally emerged from the cab at National Airport, I saw for the first time, the tears of joy in her eyes. Her emotions were obvious and she didn't need to tell me how much she loved that afternoon, although I certainly knew.
That Christmas, I surprised her with one of those Washington DC coffee table books with beautiful pictures of all the sights we saw that afternoon. It was her favorite gift that year and it was certainly my favorite gift that I gave that year. One of the things I loved most about her was her memory. Even though she'd only seen it all once in person, she narrated the entire book to the entire family that Christmas afternoon.
I can't begin to count the number of times I heard her recount that day and how proud she was to be touring Washington with me. The thing is, I'm not sure who was prouder that day, her or me.
I don't know what tomorrow will bring. I do know that they're running some tests tonight and we should know more soon. I don't know if she really only has about a week left or if I'll blow out the candles on her 93rd birthday cake with her in July.
Part 2 tomorrow.
Many of you know about my Nana and know about the long ordeal we've had with her over the last 7 years. Newer readers of LMS probably don't know about my Nana. Frances Paulk is my maternal grandmother, my heroine, and my rock and it breaks my heart into 10 million pieces seeing her suffer. You can read more about her in these blog posts.
After I spoke with mom and wiped the tears from my face, I spent most of my day feeling numb. I also got to thinking about some of my favorite memories with Nana.
In the fall of 1994, my uncle graduated from medical school in upstate New York. On her return flight to Florida, Nana had an hour layover in DC, where I'd been living for almost 18 months. Because Washington National Airport (now Reagan National Airport, UGH!) was just a few Metro stops from my office, I suggested that I meet Nana during my lunch hour. And then I had one of my most brilliant ideas.
Almost 80 years old, Nana had never visited Washington DC. As a surprise, I called the airline and arranged to have her layover changed from an hour to four hours. In retrospect, I'm not sure how she didn't know about this change, but when I met her at the gate and let her know of the change of plans, she sure did act surprised. We were going to use her layover to tour DC.
We hopped on the Metro (DC's subway) and rode it across the Potomac River and back into the District. Getting off directly under my office building, our first stop was my office at Hogan & Hartson. As we walked into the lobby and into my office (not a cubicle), she beamed with pride. Because I had just gotten a promotion, I had also just received my first business card. I gave her one that day and she carried it in her wallet until she stopped carrying a wallet.
We left my office and took a cab to my apartment. Although it was only about 6 or 7 blocks away, this was further than I thought she could easily walk and didn't want to spend our precious time walking. I wanted her to see as much of DC as possible in the short amount of time we had. It was from the window of my apartment that she first saw the Capitol and that was the first of many times that day she would say to me "In all my years, I never thought I'd see DC. I read about it in history books, but I never thought I'd walk in the city where George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, and Abe Lincoln walked."
We grabbed another cab and I explained to the driver that my Nana had never visited DC before and that before he took us back to Washington National, I wanted him to show us everything. As luck would have it, he was a fountain of knowledge and eagerly drove us from my apartment to the Capitol, past the National Mall, to the Washington Monument, down Constitution Avenue to the Lincoln Memorial, up to National Cathedral, down Massachusetts Avenue past Embassy Row, down 16th Street to Pennsylvania Avenue and slowly in front of the White House, over to the Jefferson Memorial, across the 14th Street Bridge and the Potomac River, to the George Washington Parkway and to the airport.
The whole way, Nana sat with her face glued to the cab window taking in the sites not knowing if she'd ever return to the District. The only words she was able to speak were "I never thought I'd see Washington." When she finally emerged from the cab at National Airport, I saw for the first time, the tears of joy in her eyes. Her emotions were obvious and she didn't need to tell me how much she loved that afternoon, although I certainly knew.
That Christmas, I surprised her with one of those Washington DC coffee table books with beautiful pictures of all the sights we saw that afternoon. It was her favorite gift that year and it was certainly my favorite gift that I gave that year. One of the things I loved most about her was her memory. Even though she'd only seen it all once in person, she narrated the entire book to the entire family that Christmas afternoon.
I can't begin to count the number of times I heard her recount that day and how proud she was to be touring Washington with me. The thing is, I'm not sure who was prouder that day, her or me.
I don't know what tomorrow will bring. I do know that they're running some tests tonight and we should know more soon. I don't know if she really only has about a week left or if I'll blow out the candles on her 93rd birthday cake with her in July.
Part 2 tomorrow.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Flying First Class and the Kindness of Strangers
Twelve years ago, my paternal grandmother died (not to be confused with my Nana who is still alive). We didn't have a great relationship, but missing her memorial service wasn't an option. I had to say goodbye and put some closure on our relationship for myself.
When she passed away, I was living in Washington DC and her memorial service was being held in Chicago. Because she was cremated, the service was planned for a Saturday when everyone in the family could be there ten days after her death. This was wonderful because the family was spread all over the country and it meant we could all save a few bucks on airfare.
The ten days between Grandma's death on May 1st and her memorial service on May 11th were very difficult for me at work. We were preparing to file a Summary Judgment brief in a case in the US District Court for the District of Columbia on May 10th and had been working insane hours - 14-16 hour days. I had been working 7 days a week for weeks, but this particular week I spent nights at the firm and didn't sleep at all and ate even less.
By the time we filed the brief late that Friday afternoon, I was a physical and emotional wreck and I still had to drive home, do laundry, pack, eat, get to sleep, and be at the airport in time for my 6:30 flight to Chicago. If everything went smoothly, I'd arrive in Chicago about 8:00, have enough time to have breakfast with my dad, and we'd be at the church in plenty of time for the 10:00 service.
By the grace of God, I arrived at Washington National Airport on time, but it didn't matter. We boarded the plane and about 20 minutes after we were scheduled to depart, our flight was canceled due to mechanical problems. Knowing I had to be on a plane to Chicago, I called United's customer service on my cell phone and they put me on the 8am flight, which was a full flight and scheduled to arrive at O'Hare at 9:30. The only problem was that I couldn't reach my dad to let him know he didn't need to pick me up and he should just go straight to the church. Then I called my uncles and the church and begged them not to start without me. I also managed to reach my mom who said she'd be waiting for me at 9:30 to rush me to the church. The church in Glencoe was exactly 30 minutes from O'Hare.
I got my boarding pass and discovered I was in the last row of the plane. Sitting down in the last row, I took a deep breath and suddenly all the emotions and exhaustion I'd bottled up for two weeks came rushing out as tears running down my face. My sobbing was completely uncontrollable and involuntary. Given the size of the plane, I knew that it would take 30 minutes just to get off and I'd never make it to the memorial service on time.
In spite of my best efforts to conceal my sobs, a few minutes later a flight attendant arrived. She asked what was wrong and although I tried to assure her that I was fine, I did manage to explain my situation. Without a word she left, only to reappear again and asked me to collect my things because someone in first class had offered to give me his or her seat so I would have a chance of getting to the church on time.
Now I'd flown first class a couple of summers before, but nothing will ever compare to this experience in first class. For the first time in weeks, I ate a real meal with real dishes and silverware, as opposed to take-out food with plastic silverware. I slept and woke up in Chicago refreshed and calm, two emotions I barely remembered. I'm not exaggerating when I say it was the best food and best sleep I've ever experienced.
When we arrived at O'Hare, they let me off the plane first and I ran all the way to the arrival pick-up area where I found my mom waiting. She sped all the way to the church, but the service had already started without me.
To this day I don't know who gave up their seat for me and I never had the opportunity to say thank you in person, but I've never forgotten how in one of the lowest moments of my life, a stranger came to my rescue.
When she passed away, I was living in Washington DC and her memorial service was being held in Chicago. Because she was cremated, the service was planned for a Saturday when everyone in the family could be there ten days after her death. This was wonderful because the family was spread all over the country and it meant we could all save a few bucks on airfare.
The ten days between Grandma's death on May 1st and her memorial service on May 11th were very difficult for me at work. We were preparing to file a Summary Judgment brief in a case in the US District Court for the District of Columbia on May 10th and had been working insane hours - 14-16 hour days. I had been working 7 days a week for weeks, but this particular week I spent nights at the firm and didn't sleep at all and ate even less.
By the time we filed the brief late that Friday afternoon, I was a physical and emotional wreck and I still had to drive home, do laundry, pack, eat, get to sleep, and be at the airport in time for my 6:30 flight to Chicago. If everything went smoothly, I'd arrive in Chicago about 8:00, have enough time to have breakfast with my dad, and we'd be at the church in plenty of time for the 10:00 service.
By the grace of God, I arrived at Washington National Airport on time, but it didn't matter. We boarded the plane and about 20 minutes after we were scheduled to depart, our flight was canceled due to mechanical problems. Knowing I had to be on a plane to Chicago, I called United's customer service on my cell phone and they put me on the 8am flight, which was a full flight and scheduled to arrive at O'Hare at 9:30. The only problem was that I couldn't reach my dad to let him know he didn't need to pick me up and he should just go straight to the church. Then I called my uncles and the church and begged them not to start without me. I also managed to reach my mom who said she'd be waiting for me at 9:30 to rush me to the church. The church in Glencoe was exactly 30 minutes from O'Hare.
I got my boarding pass and discovered I was in the last row of the plane. Sitting down in the last row, I took a deep breath and suddenly all the emotions and exhaustion I'd bottled up for two weeks came rushing out as tears running down my face. My sobbing was completely uncontrollable and involuntary. Given the size of the plane, I knew that it would take 30 minutes just to get off and I'd never make it to the memorial service on time.
In spite of my best efforts to conceal my sobs, a few minutes later a flight attendant arrived. She asked what was wrong and although I tried to assure her that I was fine, I did manage to explain my situation. Without a word she left, only to reappear again and asked me to collect my things because someone in first class had offered to give me his or her seat so I would have a chance of getting to the church on time.
Now I'd flown first class a couple of summers before, but nothing will ever compare to this experience in first class. For the first time in weeks, I ate a real meal with real dishes and silverware, as opposed to take-out food with plastic silverware. I slept and woke up in Chicago refreshed and calm, two emotions I barely remembered. I'm not exaggerating when I say it was the best food and best sleep I've ever experienced.
When we arrived at O'Hare, they let me off the plane first and I ran all the way to the arrival pick-up area where I found my mom waiting. She sped all the way to the church, but the service had already started without me.
To this day I don't know who gave up their seat for me and I never had the opportunity to say thank you in person, but I've never forgotten how in one of the lowest moments of my life, a stranger came to my rescue.
Monday, November 3, 2008
RIP Toot
CNN just reported that Barack Obama's grandmother died this afternoon.
Rest In Peace Toot.
Thank you for the lasting legacy you left in your grandson. Thank you for raising him with the values that make him the Man he is today. Thank you for teaching him that everyone matters and that we are all more than color of our skin or our economic circumstances. I promise we'll make you proud tommorrow when we elect him the first African American President of the United States.
Rest In Peace Toot.
Thank you for the lasting legacy you left in your grandson. Thank you for raising him with the values that make him the Man he is today. Thank you for teaching him that everyone matters and that we are all more than color of our skin or our economic circumstances. I promise we'll make you proud tommorrow when we elect him the first African American President of the United States.
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