Monday, November 21, 2011

Our Secondhand Lions

While at Eva's dance classes, I have learned the hard way to sit and listen to my iPod while reviewing flashcards for my upcoming (some day....) certification exam. Or at least I pretend to be studying. Either way this excludes me from the painful "mom" conversations going on around me and drowns them out. This has become a critical coping mechanism in my Monday mornings.

I'm not entirely sure where I stand on the whole concept of ghosts, but I like to keep an open mind. It could have all been coincidence and me just looking for something. Either way, in the span of 30 minutes, this happened:

1. I looked up at just the right moment to see a Schmidt's bread truck drive by. (My grandfather drove one for a living.)

2. I pulled a random flashcard about aortic insufficiency. (My grandmother had to have her aortic valve replaced. It was just over a year ago, about 10 months before her death.)

3. WQED tweeted about a special airing tonight about the TB Sanatorium in Cresson, where my grandmother once worked. She lived in Cresson (a teeny tiny town on top of a mountain) for more than 60 years. I'm pretty sure that in the couple of years I've been on Twitter, that I've never seen anyone tweet about it before.

This might have led to me looking like the slightly unstable mom who randomly starts crying for no reason. Oh well. If they think I'm crazy, they'll leave me alone, right?

Of course, this led to me texting my sister.

Her: That's a lot. What does it mean?
Me: Kinda feels like Mee-maw and Gramps are hanging out in LoCo today....
Her: Hanging out? That doesn't seem right. I'd go with "popping wheelies up & down Algonkian."
Me: LOVE. IT.
Her: Ending in a foot race of epic magnitude.
Her: I can see Mee-maw driving the bread truck, letting Gramps swing off the sides and the back. Both wearing aviator gear.
Me: I can only see that happening if Gramps agreed to take turns. We're talking about a woman who used the roof of her orphanage as a slide.
Her: Exactly. I honestly see them like "secondhand lions."
Me: I'm also guessing that Grandpa Paul is somewhere nearby, shaking his head at them.
Her: Sneaking out. Playing the drums.
Me: Writing a little blog post. This convo is going in it.
Her: Haha. That's just what they'd want.

Where ever you are, what ever it means, we miss you!

On a side note, I really need to start doing more crazy things if my legacy is ever going to hold up to that of my grandparents. I think my future grandchildren need some good stories to tell about me. The odds are pretty good that at least one will start with, "This one time at a hockey game...."

1 comment:

  1. Hi,
    I came across your comment about the WQED Cresson San special. I was in that TV special as I was a 17 year old TB patient there in 1955 for 16 month before making a full recovering. I also have a website dedicated to the history of the san and stories and photos of patients and staff. I invite you to visit the website and view the video at the links below and to submit any info and photos you might have of your grandmother's time working at Cresson. The staff are remembered with great fondness by the patients for all their work in helping us recover.
    Regards, Chuck Felton




    http://www.feltondesignanddata.com/cressontbsanatoriumremembered

    http://www.wqed.org/tv/experience/?id=291

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