Crazy owl lady

Our wonderful babysitter, Danielle, is like a sister to me.  She has been in our lives by way of her relationship with my brother Denny for years and years now.  One day, she remarked to my mom that Ayla had worn owls of some sort pretty much every day that week.  

It's true.  I can't resist the urge to purchase all things owl.  Ayla's toddler bed set is an owl/forest theme (even though she's too little for it still).  The lamp in her room goes with the theme.  I buy her owl pajamas, owl shirts, and various other owl-inspired ensembles.  

Not only does Ayla get to be surrounded by owls, but my students do as well.  I got an awesome owl-themed classroom jobs kit, as well as other various owl classroom products.  This year, my class theme is the Wise Owls.  I've never been able to commit to a theme before this, but now...I've got one!

My love for owls has a story.  My grandmother, Kathleen, was a wonderful artist and nurse.  She was involved in her church and community.  She was stunningly beautiful; her eyes were two different colors.  My artistic grandma painted a rock like a little owl, and my own mom (her daughter) remembers her love for owls.  As I previously mentioned, she and my grandfater were killed on their way home from a bridge tournament.  They were both in their 30s.  They had 4 children, one of whom they had recently adopted.  Nick, Kari, Jennifer (my mom), and Andrew.  When I see owls, I get to connect to the grandmother that I never got to have.  There have been times in my life where I have strongly felt the prescence of my grandparents with me, and I love them both very much even though I won't get to meet them in this world.  

My grandfather, Dennis, was known by those who loved him as Denny.  My brother was named for him-Denny...not Dennis, but Denny.  Grandpa was a doctor, a man who loved fishing, who loved eating, and he laughed all the time.  He especially loved children, and my mother's fond memories of him eating big bowls of ice cream at the table with them brought him to life for me.  

There aren't many belongings of my grandparents that were saved for my mom and her siblings, unfortunately.  The few things there are have always been so special and treasured to me, from my earliest memories.  I have an old apple necklace and a hippie flower pin that once belonged to my grandmother.  Her oil paintings hang in my parent's home, and along side them, the oil paintings that my mom did...the ones that I did.  

My paternal grandparents were both living until my grandpa LeRoy died this past March.  I have great memories of him from my childhood.  We would go to the coffee shop, and I would order pumpkin pie (which I used to hate).  He would have to eat it for me.  Throughout my life, he was in and out of our lives, depending.  Injured in a motorcycle accident back in the 70s, he had damage to his brain, which affected him for the rest of his life.  He was a veteran, and he was so proud of his service, especially on the USS Intrepid, which is now a museum in New York.  Some of his old comrades laid him to rest in New York, as they all vowed they would do for one another.  The ashes that are left accompany his military flag that was sent to my father.  LeRoy was not always the nicest man, but he was my grandfather.

Back in December 2009, my mom, sister Alexis, and I went on an impromptu trip to Iowa to surprise visit old family and friends.  (I grew up in Des Moines).  We decided that we would make the long trek to Tingley, Iowa to see him.  My older brother Dave made the trip with us.  We tried calling over and over, but got no answer.  When we arrived at his trailer, he wasn't there.  The Wagon Wheel cafe is down the street from the trailer, so we stopped in there to ask if they'd seen him.  Tingley is the kind of town where everyone knows everyone (and their business).  The folks there reckoned that he had gone into "town" to get supplies since they'd recently been hard hit by snowy weather.  Ayla was crying in the car, so we had to fix her a bottle.  We decided that we'd leave him a Christmas card and one of the family photos of Brandon, Ayla, and I at his trailer, saying that we had missed him.

I put my rental car in park in the middle of the street (what traffic?) to run through the snow to stick the card in his door.  When I ran across the street back to the car, there a car was, turn signal on in the direction of his driveway.   It was him and his lady, Rosemary.  Grandpa LeRoy was delighted to see us, especially the great-granddaughter bearing his last name as her 2nd middle name (my current, maiden name).  I hadn't seen him or communicated with him in 7 years before then.  We knew he'd become sick with cancer, which he believed to be a result of Agent Orange exposure.  He'd lost his eye, part of his ear, and his voicebox (which I'm sure years of chain smoking didn't help any).

We later found out, the day that we drove to see him was his birthday.  Wow.

After we returned to Florida, he wrote letters to all of us, especially his pride and joy Ayla Marley.  My father reconnected with him, and he asked us to come down to his trailer and get the things of his that we wanted.  He knew he was very sick, and he knew he wouldn't be with us much longer.  Still, he wrote letters talking about how he was going to drive to Florida once little Ayla was walking and talking so he could see her again.  About how he'd take her to the beach and then to get ice cream or pizza or whatever she wanted.  Instead, we drove up and saw him for the last time in February of 2010.  I am so glad that my dad got to hug him and that they could tell each other how much they loved each other...those two stubborn men, more alike than either of them could admit.  The last time I saw my grandfather, I cried and hugged him because I just knew it would be the last time.  He looked me in the eyes and told me, "You will survive.  You will survive."  I think he wanted me to know that.  To know that I would survive losing him.  That I will survive the challenges I will face during my life.  LeRoy always signed his letters to "be brave, no matter what."  So I guess that in my life, I will fulfill his simple request.

He was a patriotic man;  his trailer was red, white, blue, and eagles all over.  I will miss him, but when I see a flag, I am reminded of him.  When I say the pledge with my students, I say it with pride-for him.  Ayla Marley is walking (and running) and talking (and screaming), and I know he is smiling down on her.

As for my paternal grandmother, she has never been "grandmotherly" to me, and I will spend my life missing the grandmother she never was.

I'm a crazy owl lady because I miss my maternal grandparents, even though I never got to meet them.  My mom tells me how much they'd love my little family because they were involved in civil rights, and they are surely smiling on my interracial family that can live in this world today in a way that didn't exist in their lifetime.  When I see a big bowl of ice cream, I think of Grandpa Denny.  When I see an owl, I know my Grandma Kathleen is with me.  And that's a pretty amazing feeling.