If you knew my Grandma Regina, you’d think it was some kind of a miracle that my mother could ever have been born.
When I knew Grandma, she barely spoke. She kept to herself. I can’t remember ever seeing her laugh or even smile. No. She looked sad most of the time. And she and my grandpa didn’t interact. Not really. “Pass the salt,” kind of thing. That was about it.
I bring this up because today is my mom’s birthday. She was born on October 27, 1923. Her 100th birthday.
Happy Big Birthday, Mom.
But back to Grandma Regina. I’m not sure how she ever gave birth.
She couldn’t cook worth a darn. I suppose she kept house well enough. I guess. But I’m not sure what she did with all of her time. I just don’t know.
I didn’t know my other grandparents. My dad’s parents.
Just my mom’s. Ed and Regina.
While they were alive, I was crazy about my grandpa. He loved me, too. He taught me how to play Blackjack and Poker. He took my other siblings fishing, but, thankfully, not me. He took me for ice cream. He was always looking out for me. I felt safe when I was with Grandpa.
But he and Grandma must have had a falling out somewhere along the line. Early on. They only had one child. Probably because Grandma wouldn’t stand having another. Maybe that was it. Maybe that was the trouble.
As an adult, looking back, I want to know my Grandma Regina.
I want to sit down and ask her questions. I want to know if she had secret wishes for her life. I want to know what made her sad.
But mostly, I want to thank her.
Without her, I would not be sitting in this chair, typing. I needed her in order to be here.
I know the same goes for every ancestor along the way, back through the eternity of time, back to when the first monkey stood, and started walking, through that great genetic drift. It took a lot of perfect moments for millions of years for me to be here.
I want to talk to Grandma and thank her for her part in all of this.
And part of that part was giving birth to Lucille Rita Rose.
My good, good mother. Who did her great part in this world, and in this life. My life.
So. Thank you to all the ancestors before me. To Regina.
And. Happy Birthday Mom.
I love you.
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“You are the fairy tale told by your ancestors.”
― Toba Beta, My Ancestor Was an Ancient Astronaut
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“No self is of itself alone. It has a long chain of intellectual ancestors. The “I” is chained to ancestry by many factors… This is not mere allegory, but an eternal memory.”
― Erwin Schrödinger
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“We are a continuum.”
— Paul Tsongas
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The people before me. Thank you, thank you.
