Recital

This past weekend, I visited my cousin in Rochester, New York. She is graduating from the Eastman School of Music and it was the occasion of her senior recital. She is an extremely talented violinist and my heart was swelling with pride when I saw her perform. Of course I've seen her play at family functions since she was old enough to hold a bow, but seeing her up on that stage in an unbelievably beautiful performance hall very nearly brought me to tears.

After her performance, we went to a friend of my cousin's for an after-party. At my aunt's request, my cousin and one of her friend's sang a few songs. These "kids" are just full to bursting with talent. My uncle, himself an extremely gifted musician, took up the guitar after and played while the whole room sang, myself included, although quietly so as not to embarrass myself too badly. We sang and laughed until nearly 1am, when the old fogies, my aunts and uncles and myself, had to abandon the younger crew to their fun.

My own college experience was not the most traditional. I started out at one school but after a year I left to "find myself." When I returned at a different school a few years later, I was past the magic of the experience. At that point, I was just ready to do what I needed to do and be done with it. So I didn't form the kind of deep relationships that I saw so clearly between my cousin and her friends. Most of the time, I don't really think about this. It is not the sort of thing that haunts me. I have enough real regrets that I won't waste time on stuff like this. But on the occasion when it is placed in front of me, I can't help but be nostalgic for something that never was.

It was a long drive for what amounted to less than a 24 hour visit, but to get to spend time with some of my favorite people and to share space with that kind of energy, every mile of the journey was worth it.

Generations

I was going through the photos I took when I was in Kansas. Finally. And I came across a couple that my sister took of me, Sophie and my granddaddy. It's a tad out of focus because it was my little point and shoot and somebody (me) let somebody (Sophie) take some self-portraits (cute!) and she somehow changed it to the macro setting. Which means that anything more than 12 inches away and bigger than a ladybug has an aura. Of course, I didn't realize this until it was way too late to retake, but if I spend long enough tinkering around in Photoshop, I think I can make it presentable. And I plan to, because I want to send a copy to my beloved granddaddy. But for now, I just wanted to get something up on my blog that puts a smile on my face. Because my last post? Does not. It was one of those posts that was terribly cathartic to write but painful to publish and think about other people reading.

This picture makes me happy. It reminds me of a hundred Christmases spent in that very room, a fire blazing while I lay stretched out on the carpet under the coffee table. It reminds me of those weeks we spent there during the summer, just my sister and I and our grandparents. Sunday nights spent eating apples, cheese and popcorn while we watched 60 minutes. So many wonderful memories. I love that I was able to bring my daughter to spend some time with her great-granddaddy, because he is such an amazing man. I love that my grandmother is still with us, even if only in our memories and a photograph that is never far from my granddaddy's side.

Mostly though, I'm just really happy that given both of our positions, you can see neither mine nor my daughter's underwear.

Traditions

I went to my friend Emily's annual holiday cookie exchange over the weekend. Not an advanced baker, I usually bring something fairly simple: chocolate chip cookies or the like. But I decided to do something special this year. For the first time ever, I made peanut butter balls. This was a bittersweet undertaking for me. My grandmother, my father's mother, made peanut butter balls every year for Christmas. These delicious little orbs came to represent not just the perfect blending of two great flavors but that time of year when many of the people I loved most in the world came together.

My grandmother was an amazing woman. She was smart and tough, with an incredible sense of humor and an enormous capacity for love. She raised four sons to be men who shared her sense of equity and compassion. An artist, she recreated her world in paint, clay and metal. I am honored to have one of her paintings hanging in my daughter's room.

She shared a life with my granddaddy. She was his partner in the truest sense of the word. Theirs was storybook love. A couple who sneaked kisses and held hands, even after 50 years of marriage.

But a beast came to her world. A cruel and unrelenting animal that ravaged her mind. The most heartbreaking of ends for a woman with so much. I can't even express the depths of sorrow I felt as I watched Alzheimer's take away my grandmother one bite at a time over the course of a decade. There is no crueler thing.

She has been gone six years now and although she did not leave us during the holidays, it is at this time of the year that I feel her absence the most. She made Christmas a special time. A time for togetherness. A time for joy. She was never far from my thoughts throughout the time it took me to craft my own version of her beloved holiday treat. Nor will she be throughout the holidays.

Although not her exact recipe, this one comes fairly close. In her honor:

Peanut Butter Balls
1/2 Cup Butter, Softened
2 Teaspoons Vanilla Extract
1/8 Teaspoon Salt
2 Cups Creamy Peanut Butter
3 Cups Confectioners' Sugar
1 1/2 Cups Graham Cracker Crumbs
1 1/2 Cups Rice Crispies
2 Cups Semi-Sweet Chocolate Chips
2 Tablespoons Shortening

1. Cream together the butter, vanilla, salt and peanut butter. Stir in 2 cups of the confectioners' sugar, rice crispies and the graham cracker crumbs.

2. Form the mixture into 1 inch balls. Roll each ball in the remaining cup of confectioners' sugar. Set the balls in a single layer on a cookie sheet and refrigerate until firm.

3. To Dip the Balls in Chocolate: Microwave one cup of chocolate chips and one tablespoon shortening for 60 seconds. Then stir well. If not completely melted, microwave in additional 10 second increments. Insert a toothpick into the chilled balls and dip into the melted chocolate until coated. Set on waxed paper until hardened. Melt remaining chocolate and shortening as needed.

Enjoy.

Slainte

My Uncle Steve came for a visit yesterday. A pilot, he comes through town occasionally for work, and this time we were lucky to have him with us all day Sunday. We went down to Fells Point, a historic area on the water in downtown Baltimore. We ate at a lovely Irish pub, Slainte (according to our eastern European waiter, it is pronounced slain-cha), that had great food, fabulous views of the Inner Harbor and a very realistic "pub" feel to it. It helps that it was in a 300 year old building. Afterward, we wandered along the piers looking at the boats as well as the interesting architecture that lines the shore.

My uncle is my dad's oldest brother and he and his wife, Randee, have been a huge part of my life. They have been there for me through some really rough times and have shared some of my best. Spending the day with him yesterday brought home to me how hard it is sometimes to be away from all of "my" people. Don't get me wrong, my in-laws are the kindest, most wonderful people who have welcomed me into their family with open arms, but there is something about showing off my baby to people who knew ME when I was a baby that has a whole different feel to it.

As I looked through the pictures we took yesterday, I welcomed a wave of nostalgia. I pulled out a photo album that includes pictures of my family throughout my life and found one of my Uncle Steve and me when I was just a little older than Sophie is now. He looks just the same to me, although the hair's a little grayer, and I look so much like Sophie. I am reminded just how wonderful family is and how lucky I am to have such amazing people in my life.