Super 8

My mother's mother passed from this life into the next, one year ago. As my mother is an only child, all of her parents' possessions have come to her. Things acquired over the course of a long and productive lifetime are almost too numerous to count and nearly always impossible to store in one basement.

Mom has gradually sifted through the majority of her parents' treasures and recently came across a box of super 8 mm film shot by my grandpa. With her amazing can do attitude and persistence she spliced the smaller reels together into one large one and rescusitated an old projector.

Today was Sarah's first day back at school after missing 3 days being sick. I was at the hospital attending an inservice when my phone rang and a rather trembly Sarah said she needed to go home. She just wasn't well yet. I called my mom who picked Sarah up and brought her back home with her. When I finished my meeting I went to get her and found my mom enthusiastically putting the final touches on the last reel of film. Today was the premiere of these long neglected films. We put newspaper over the windows in the front door and found a dark corner in the dining room where some poster paper was taped on the wall for a screen.

The lights were turned off and the projector turned on. The sound of the film going through the spools and ratchets was the only accompaniment. The blurry images on the makeshift screen made my heart overflow with emotion. There I was, 10 or 11, at my great grandmother's little place in Bennington Idaho. A moment later, I was celebrating Christmas in our home in Foster City California. The image blurred and cleared and there I was hunting for Easter eggs at my grandparents home in Salt Lake. Places of my childhood. Little parcels of Heaven here below. Thats how it feels when I look back. In truth, the geography means nothing. Those places could have been anywhere. It was the people caring for me, encouraging me, teaching me... loving me that made it so sweet.

As I sat on the floor in my parents' dining room with my mother and daughter, the tears flowed. What a precious few moments. I'm awfully thankful for those blurry snippets of family and home. It brought back very powerfully the incredible examples of parenting and grandparenting that have blessed my life. I've got some awfully big shoes to fill and some beautiful memories to help me along.

Feeling nostalgic, I found a few pictures of my childhood and the people who made it so safe and happy for me.

Dad, Mom, Tony and me on the front porch of Grandma Idaho's little house. (Living far away from our grandparents, we differentiated who they were by where they were. )

Tony and I in the back seat of Grandma and Grandpa Salt Lake's car. Probably coming back from Lehi.

Me with my pride and joy red Schwinn, matching red coat and my sweet Great Grandma Idaho. This was taken in front of our home in Boise.

Tony, Grandma Salt Lake and me at Hotel Utah. I think we were celebrating Tony's birthday in style.

Tony reading a Christmas story to Tatiana at our home in California. There could not be a better big brother.

Tatiana and I swimming in Uncle Hank and Aunt Ruth's pool. They were Grandma & Grandpa's dearest friends. Tatiana was and is still the kindest, smartest, and most darling sister.