On Memorials

This weekend, I was able to finally hang out with many people on my dad's side of the family. I say "finally" because it has been a very long time since I've seen my cousin, aunts, and uncles on that side of the family - I think the general consensus was about eight years ago. There was even more extended family there, too, whom I haven't seen since the 90s. (To give you a perspective on how well I know the 90s... I started kindergarten, and that's one of the few things I remember).
Unfortunately, the whole event was spurred by the fact that my grandmother died in December, and we were only recently able to get everyone together to hold some sort of memorial for her. It's really fitting, as this is Memorial Weekend. She's buried in the same plot as my grandfather, in an area she lived in for many years.
With all the death and stuff, it was still a fun occasion - my dad actually said that she would appreciate the humor being held at her grave site. (The humor, for the record, was along the lines of, "Don't smile for the photos in the cemetery; this is a grave occasion!") It was interesting to talk to everyone, and I heard some really funny stories from my more immediate family about her.

For the record, my grandmother was a child of the Great Depression. She was born in 1920, so she had just turned nine when Wall Street crashed into the Depression. She kept up many of the money-saving habits that she and her family developed over the ensuing years, and it is from that frugality, something she kept up until she stopped living alone, that many of the stories come.

One of the most common stories I've heard of her is how Nana would save small things. For example, she didn't make new ice. She would have iced tea every day and a small vodka with ice every night; when she was done with the drink, the ice would go back in the freezer.
That wasn't the only water thing she saved. When she bathed, she would take a bucket to catch the not-quite-warm-enough water; when she was done washing, she would take the bucket outside and water the garden with the contents. She rarely used her dishwasher as well, and she rarely left a room with the light still on. There's a reason her electric bill was less than $50.

There are some crazy things that came out of this frugality, though. One of my favorite stories of Nana came out of this.
So my dad visited Nana regularly throughout my childhood; she was his mother, after all. Also, she was living alone, as his father had died in the early 1980s. During one of these visits, he decided to get some ice cream, and chocolate was somehow involved (I don't know if it was chocolate ice cream, or a vanilla base with chocolate parts, or vanilla ice cream with chocolate sauce... anyway, chocolate was involved, and that's the important part).
At the time in question, Nana's eyesight wasn't that great. One night, Dad scooped himself a large bowl of chocolatey ice cream goodness, and left it on the kitchen counter near the sink - I guess he had to go to the bathroom or something? Anyway, the ice cream was left on the counter, and Nana came into the kitchen. She thought that the bowl was simply dirty, and not full of fresh-scooped ice cream, so she washed it out with soap and water.
At that moment, my dad came in to see his bowl of ice cream getting soap and water all over it. He told Nana that she was, at that very moment, washing his nightly dose of chocolate down the drain. Nana apologized and proceeded to rinse most of the soap off of the ice cream and offered the rest to Dad, as if it were a perfectly fine bowl of ice cream with no flaws whatsoever.
Unfortunately, I don't know how Dad reacted to this. I assume he accepted it graciously, and then waited until she left the room. He probably then finished washing the bowl and scooped some new ice cream into it. (I don't actually know, though).

In all, it was really nice to hear some of these stories. I didn't really know Nana that well; though she and I are related and were on the Earth together for two decades, I didn't really spend a lot of time with her. For most of my life, she was mostly blind and approaching deafness, and I guess that's hard to explain to a kid with patience issues, as I was. Also, since she wasn't in a great physical condition, it was hard for her to travel; traveling a family of four around is also logistically difficult. I am glad that I was able to see so much of my family again, though, and it was nice to hear the stories, even though they were second-hand.

On weddings and stuff

Firstly: I know I've changed the formatting a little. I've been procrastinating a bit on homework by trying to figure out how to do a little bit of HTML - then I realized that HTML is not necessarily something one can just do, and have that just be the end of it.

But HTML code is not what I'm trying to talk about today. I'm here to talk about WEDDINGS! (and by WEDDINGS, I mean the wedding I went to this weekend). It was my cousin getting married, and it was something that has been a long time coming. Most people, after all, can't say they married the person they had a crush on in fourth grade. Most poeple can't say that people argue about who REALLY got them together - and who can say, really, because they met in the fourth grade - thirteen years ago. One account is that the older sisters were the masterminds, because they were good friends and, in their high school logic, wanted a way to become SISTERS FOREVER. The best way they could think of to do it was to make their younger siblings get married - but they should "wait until they're in high school, because then it'll last." It was another person who actually confirmed that each of them liked the other. Personally, I think it was whoever asked the groom to dog-sit when he was in middle school - because nothing is more casually romantic than saying, "hey, do you wanna feed my neighbor's dog with me sometime?"

The wedding itself was nice. The ceremony barely lasted 30 minutes, which was a pretty good amount of time. At the reception, there was a candy bar - not as in 'one singular Hershey bar,' but as in 'a table full of candy.' And it was great. Later in the reception, the flower toss resulted in the flowers landing near my feet. I picked them up, and then passed them off to the five-year-old in the crowd. Why? She wanted them, and she was far less likely to shove them into a suitcase twelve hours later and leave them to die, resulting in nothing but sad memories, laundry that no longer needs to smell good, and a lot of leaves and dried pollen in her clothing.
Also, had I kept them, there might be some more pressure on me for the next family wedding. See, the last wedding I went to was that of the bride's older sister. I caught the bouquet then, too. If word got around that I got the flowers at this wedding, then I would be expected to get them at the wedding of the bride's younger sister as well. I don't want that sort of pressure. I also don't want to be expected to get married before I've traveled the world at least twice.