When I turned 21 my dad gave me the newspaper fromt he day I was born. That’s just the way he is – he thinks of these things and he remembers. And you would think that when he gave me the paper, I would have been overjoyed, but truthfully, I was also sad. I realized that when I turned 80, he’d be 106 if he was still alive and that would be wonderful, but highly unlikely. Like a ton of bricks it hit me: I might have a birthday without one of my parents. How sad is that? There are many years between now and 80, but there won’t be anyone else just like my dad or my mom.

Anyway, this memory isn’t from totally out of the blue. I watched last week’s Grey’s Anatomy tonight. I know, it’s just a show, but it made me think becaus George’s dad dies in the episode and it made me consider what it would be like to live without a parent.

I have so many fond memories of my dad growing up. I remember once, he and I both had jeans with lots of pockets in them and I remember him helping me get dressed when I was little and we looked at all of the nifty pockets on the jeans. And I remember playing fort with him in the basement, wearing foil for hats. And going sledding on the hill. And making “specials” for breakfast (peanut butter and jelly toast).

I also have a ton of fond memories of my mom – she is the best. I loved watching her put her make up on in the morning and set her hair in rollers. I love the way she tucked me in at night when I was little. I loved riding along with her in the car, singing along to the radio. I remember distinctly being in her old Caprice Classic when I was 4 ish, listening to Billy Joel singing For the Longest Time, and Mom told me that Billy Joel sang everything in the song. It blew my mind – even the background music! wow!

And when my parents are together, there isn’t anything more fun. On long car rides, they are better singing entertainment than Sonny and Cher – although, remember, I am tone deaf. It is clear that they love eachother very much.

Anyway, there is nothing like your parents. And maybe if I’m lucky, I’ll pull out my birthday newspaper when I’m 80 and my dad and mom will be there to read it one more time with me.

I just wanted to wish everyone a happy and healthy new year!

Hello 2007!

So it has been over a month since my last post – bad Emily!!

First things first – I hope that everyone had a fabulous Thanksgiving. Despite not having an oven, my mother (aka the Miracle Worker) managed to pull off a fantastic feast of traditional Thanksgiving Fare.

My delightful cousin Dave turned 21 with the traditional Martini Party. Good thing that everyone has a few months to let their livers recover before Adam turns 21 in April. As the designated driver, I am responsible not only for getting my parents home, but also helping them remember what they did the night before. And yes, this part was well documented on my cell phone and on Meghan’s camcorder. Hopefully the tape will not be “lost” as it was last time. Uncle Steve cannot seem to locate the tape from Meghan’s 21st. I think that’s awfully convenient since he inadvertantly videotaped an hour of his lap.

Enough of that. Since it is clear that the Christmas season is upon us now (well, since October), Frank and I set up our Christmas tree. We like it – it’s our first Christmas tree and we’ve been married for 3 years now. It’s purty. The month of December is going to be OUT OF CONTROL busy. We have a Christmas party next Friday for work, the Women’s Holiday Brunch at church on Saturday and then visitors on Saturday night. The next weekends after that include a cookie-making party with the H.S. girls, a “Welcome to the World” Celebration for Kristin’s baby boy, Matthew – and – oh yeah – Christmas Eve at our house. YAY!!!

Shout Outs: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO Kate (the 27th), Meghan (22nd), Kelly H-B (11th), and Stacie D (18th). And those were in no particular order.

Time is never time at all
You can never ever leave without leaving a piece of youth
And our lives are forever changed
We will never be the same
The more you change the less you feel
Believe, believe in me, believe
That life can change, that you’re not stuck in vain
We’re not the same, we’re different tonight
Tonight, so brightTonight
And you know you’re never sure
But your sure you could be right
If you held yourself up to the light
And the embers never fade in your city by the lake
The place where you were born
Believe, believe in me, believe
In the resolute urgency of now
And if you believe there’s not a chance tonight
Tonight, so bright
Tonight
We’ll crucify the insincere tonight
We’ll make things right, we’ll feel it all tonight
We’ll find a way to offer up the night tonight
The indescribable moments of your life tonight
The impossible is possible tonight
Believe in me as I believe in you, tonight
(The Smashing Pumpkins)

That song reminds me of so many things – I first heard it when I was in junior high school. I wasn’t sure what Billy was singing and I didn’t like the name of the band. When I was little, some fools smashed our pumpkins on Halloween while we were trick or treating at my grandparents’ neighborhood. They smashed our pumpkins’ faces in, except for the littlest pumpkin. Mom scooped up the remains of the pumpkins and built a pumpkin snowman by our front door. Trick-or-treators commented on our interesting snowman pumpkin creation. Their tones were slightly smug – they had put the proverbial blood over the doorpost and the spirit of Halloween Ugliness spared their pumpkins.

I remember a kid in my 8th grade English class wearing a Smashing Pumpkins tee-shirt and I thought, “Does he not know that smashing pumpkins is the cruelest thing you can do to a child?” I think the guy’s name was Jason, but we never spoke. It’s unfortunate that the Smashing Pumpkins came between us.

So all that said, it’s ironic that Frank would be the biggest Smashing Pumpkins fan I know. Fortunately for Frank, I healed from my Halloween wounds of 1992 (though I will always carry with me the saddest image ever of three lopsided pumpkins stacked in front of our door, with one small, grinning gord on top – grinning like it was all he had… and because he saw what happened to his friends). I remember when Frank confessed his adoration for the quirky group – that he was collecting as many bootlegged live songs as he could get his hands on. And then when we started dating, the Smashing Pumpkins resurfaced as a happy band – Zwan. Happiness is not something that Billy Corrigan does well, though we will always have “Honestly” from the days of Zwan. If there is one thing I learned – Smashing Pumpkins best music was born from the first horrifyingly melancholy moment where you realize that the bright orange smeared on the black pavement is, in fact, YOUR PUMPKIN, laid out for all the world to see. And even if your mom scoops the pumpkin up from the pavement, you will always feel violated that someone would think to take your finest moment and hurtle it into the street with a glib, smirking face.

So I guess what I’m saying is that Zwan didn’t have a chance because what can you sing about after you kill children’s dreams? And I guess I am also saying that the least that Billy Corrigan could do is give Frank and I one decent, relatively chipper song to hang onto as “our song.”

But it won’t bring back the pumpkins of 1992.

And that, Mr. Corrigan, is the infinite sadness of which you speak.