Memory - Bio

Eeks.... I sincerely apologize for being so far behind. I've been insanely sick and hope to get caught up as soon as I feel like I'm back amongst the living.

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"You have to be a real adult when you turn 25."

That was something my dad always said when we were growing up. My dad always seemed to have a great balance between responsibility and fun. Most years we had a "nothing practical allowed" rule at Christmas yet he was strict. Just the right amount. I think his saying about only having to grow up at 25 was a perfect example of his idea of balance. I realize now that he was trying to instill in us that there is, of course, a time to mature and go out into the world with a sense of responsibility while still not skipping past the frivolity that young adulthood has to offer.

When I was 25, I had a 4 year old child, was divorced already, was 4 years into a successful career and had already had the wind knocked out of me by some of the things I only thought happened on tv. Responsibility was something I already knew well. Yet, somehow that was the first year in a long time that I answered my mom's ridiculous "So do you feel any older?" birthday question with a resounding "Yes!"

Later that year, my grandfather passed very suddenly. Grandpa Hakes was the one that took us to the apple orchard every year and talked them into letting us pick Spys early because we liked them extra sour. He taught me how to drive a tractor, how to shoot a gun, how to catch a mouse with only a plastic spoon, peanut butter and a bucket and how to make homemade noodles. Until the day he died he still called me "Runt" and still had room for me on his lap.

I could go on and on about the sorrow and loss that I felt when he died, but it was a sudden missle to the soul that really was life-changing for me at the time. It was March, and very cold outside. We were at Grandma and Grandpa's house, congregating as people do after a death of a loved one. We were sitting in the living room as dusk fell, 6 of us crammed onto the sofa and two chairs, leaving Grandpa's big recliner eerily empty. The smell of a church-delivered casserole was drifting in from the kitchen.

Grandma was in the bedroom when we heard the closet door slide open. We knew she was picking out the suit for Grandpa to be buried in. I was 25 years old and had never once known Grandma to cry. The sound that escaped from her bedroom that day was the exact sound that I know a heart makes when that final cut that never heals slices through.

It was at that very moment, the first time I heard my grandma cry, that I felt the palpable, life-changing transition of the generations.

I looked around. I saw the hearth of the fireplace where my sister and I used to stand to take orders from the family to serve fake "hamburgers" made out of tin coasters. I saw the couch that my grandma always called a davenport. It was the couch I camped out on for three days when I had my wisdom teeth removed. It was the couch I sat on when Grandpa and I worked on countless puzzles. I saw that big recliner that I used to climb into Grandpa's lamp in. Then I saw the kids. Our kids, mine and my sister's. OUR kids were standing on the hearth. My niece Erica was bringing coasters around asking us all if a piece of "cake" would help us feel better. All of a sudden I realized that I was at Grandma and Grandpa's house, but I wasn't one of the "kids" anymore.

This was a defining moment in my life. A different kind of maturity set in. I have always said that I wanted to be just like my grandma when I grew up and now I saw her in a different light that only reaffirmed that desire. It was at that moment that I learned to embrace growing up and growing older. Since that day, my relationship with my grandma has brought so many things to light for me. I've watched her blossom in a way that, due to the traditional, defined roles of that generation's marriages, she never could have with Grandpa. She now speaks up about politics and doesn't bite her tongue, yet is still always the classiest lady in the room. She's 80 years old now and still takes classes... just because she's interested in the subject. She has a part-time job, just for the enjoyment. And she prints out jokes for us to pass around and read out-loud at holiday dinners.

I've seen a lot of similarities between the transitions in her life and those in mine. I, too, have had to learn how to take care of a house by myself because I hate asking for help. I've had to learn my identity outside of being a wife. I've really learned to think for myself and have experienced how truly rewarding it is to learn new things with an open mind. I did plenty of growing up as a youth. But that day, in my grandma's living room, was when I started truly growing.

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Who I am today:

Girl next door. Self-proclaimed nerd. Crazy insomniac.

I'm in my young 30's with a tween-aged daughter who helps keep me humble by never quite letting me feel fully sane. My family is comprised of all sorts of dysfunction, yet somehow we're still close.

For work, I'm an insurance geek. I handle auto liability for losses that occur in Indiana. I have all sorts of letters behind my name that only mean something in the insurance world and I'm working on the big ones. CPCU is sort of the holy grail of insurance designations; I'm on the 5th of 8 courses in the program. A huge thing that occupies my work life is co-chairing our largest employee resource group for the state of Michigan.

Outside of work, I rarely sleep, but have lots to keep me occupied. I'm insanely domestic and have been working on decorating my big huge house that I bought in December. I love to bake and experiment with that a lot. I'm kind of a lit freak, so I read whenever I get a chance. I write poetry and have just now joined this really cool writing group. It's called "Write Monkey, Write." Maybe you've heard of it???

Someone close to me told me recently that I "live life in gulps, not sips." I like to think that will never change, even when I'm the 80 year-old grandma.