Happy unBirthday, dear granddaughter!

It’s been one of my life’s greatest joys to live near my youngest son, Ben, his wife, Briana, and their children, Grandson Addison and Granddaughter Drew.

From shortly after the kiddos were born until they reached the age when they could go to preschool – about two years old – I was privileged to be their “Granny Nanny.” I have not only had the pleasure of watching them grow and learn, but have established a closeness with them that fills my heart. We’ve established traditions that I’ve worked to maintain. One of those traditions is that each year for each child’s birthday, their gift from me is a day of shopping followed by an overnight at Gran’s house. It’s always been great fun for me and, I think, for them.

Since Addison’s birthday falls just before Christmas, we usually have our birthday outing sometime during the week after Christmas, although it’s sometimes been as late as mid-January. Drew, however, was born in June, shortly before my own birthday. That has always meant we could plan her birthday treat some time during our shared birthday week.

Until this year: The Year of COVID-19. Which was closely followed by my son’s diagnosis of liver cancer. Needless to say, there have been no overnights due to my current lack of sleeping space, and COVID has been preventing me from wanting to go into a mall for shopping or a restaurant for lunch.

Drew has been extraordinarily patient – not at all the way I was at age 11 – and we decided several weeks ago that part of her belated celebration would be to watch “Hamilton” together – her choice. Last week we planned to celebrate in two parts, since we couldn’t have an overnight, and that we would start this weekend. So this morning, her dad brought her to my house for Drew’s unBirthday, Part I.

First, we made and decorated cupcakes – because what’s a party without cake? Besides, her uncle had wanted white cake and I had bought a mix and some icing. After deciding what colors we wanted for the frosting, Drew and I went to work.

While the cupcakes baked, we shopped online for her very late birthday presents. She already knew what she wanted – books – so we cranked up MeowWolf.com for the first one, then over to Amazon.com for three more. She’ll be getting books for the next four days, and she kept her purchases within her birthday budget. As an added bonus, our Amazon purchases resulted in a donation to my church.

After the cupcakes had cooled, we created some vibrantly-colored deliciousness – a few for us to have here and the rest for her to take home and share with her family. Of course Uncle Martin will have his share, too!

After all our hard work, we fixed lunch and plopped down in the family room to start watching “Hamilton.” We only made it about halfway through. before it was time to take my girl home to get ready for her cousin’s fourth birthday party. Neither of us minded too much because it just means that we’ll have another day together to finish watching the show!

When we got to her house, she told her parents that she had gotten four books and made cupcakes for her unBirthday – and that she’d gotten a “birthday President.”

Funny. Smart. Creative. Curious. Loving. Compassionate. That’s my girl. I’m blessed in so many ways.

 

Nuclear War, Nazis, Racists, and Grandchildren

This post has been a week in coming. It’s taken so long because every time I thought it couldn’t get worse, it got worse. And just as I had something composed in my head, a new atrocity rose up to overshadow the previous one.

A week ago, my grandson spent the night with me. He’s a smart, precocious rising fifth-grader who enjoys babies and small children, Jeopardy, CNN, most of the shows on HGTV, and is a walking encyclopedia of baseball statistics. He reads the Farmers’ Almanac, trivia (or did-you-know) books with the same intensity I used to read Nancy Drew. He’s also a lot of fun to spend time with, and we talk about almost everything.

Last week we discussed Trump’s words and actions relative to North Korea, and any fears he might have or what he thought might happen. I told him about growing up in during the Cold War, and living just a mile from the base headquarters of the Strategic Air Command in Tampa. I explained how scary that could feel, and how we had “bomb drills” in the same way he has fire drills or lock-down drills. Although we obviously came to no resolution, I tried to assure him that it was unlikely we would actually have war, since, pragmatically, our threat to North Korea was much greater in terms of lives and damage than their threat to us. We agreed that war is bad, that any loss of life would be horrible, and I think it helped him to talk about it.

That conversation was on Friday, and I thought it was probably the most serious conversation we would have for a while. Then came Saturday in Charlottesville.

This grandson wrote a paper on WWII last year for class, so he has some knowledge of who Hitler was and about the Nazis. And, like the rest of us, he likely thought it was an evil that had been put to rest. Oh, he knows about racism and discrimination. He has a virtual rainbow of friends, both at school and in his neighborhood. He has a gay uncle and great-uncle, and a couple of gay cousins, knows people who are in same-sex marriages and committed relationships, and his parents don’t put any questions – from him or his sister – off-bounds. So he’s aware, but it’s not a big deal. His greatest concern following the November election was for his friends who are Mexican and those whose religion is Islam. It probably isn’t necessary to mention that he’s no fan of Donald Trump, and takes every opportunity to mention it!

So, how do we talk about Trump’s recent remarks about the events in Charlottesville? How do I explain that there are people who would hate him because he’s one-quarter Puerto Rican? And how does that work with the fact that he’s descended on my side of the family from people who owned human beings and who fought to dissolve this union of states, so that they might continue to profit from slavery? How do I explain that the word “n***er” was used freely within my extended family when I was growing up. What will he think when he’s old enough to be interested in my grandfather’s memoirs, which are filled with epithets against people of color, Jewish people, and a host of others who weren’t White, Southern, and Episcopalian?

What do I say about the people who voted for Trump? Do I say they aren’t bad people? Or that they aren’t all racist or bigoted? Do I say that somehow they were able to ignore Trump’s words and vote for him anyway? Do I fall back on my mother’s old saw that politics makes strange bedfellows? Do I tell him that there are people who are genuinely concerned about the economy and hoped Trump would make it better, and that they were angry enough to vote for him? How, then, do I explain that a race of people who have suffered from a depressed economy for generations don’t have the same right, according to some, to be angry?

What words do I use to tell him that Donald Trump has a son-in-law and two grandchildren who are descended from Holocaust survivors, yet he defended Nazis, surely knowing, and just as surely not caring, about the pain that must cause them? My grandchildren – all of them – think of grandparents as protecters and defenders, as people who love them and would never choose to hurt them in word or deed. How can he understand that there are grandparents who put their own selfishness above the emotional well-being of their grandchildren?

How do I explain that the person who occupies the highest elected office in this land has defended and provided excuses for Nazis and white supremacists, and those who would divide us by race and religion? How can this even be a current events discussion in the 21st Century?

And how will Donald Trump explain his angry words and his support for Nazis and bigots to Arabella, Joseph, and Theodore?