The two boxes (far right and the one in the middle with the shake-up globe atop it) are urns of two of my best friends. Farli (center) and Muzzie (far right).
The leash and collar set (yes, one of my cats really could have passed for a 'service' animal, she would walk with me, being unawares she was a cat, just that determined to be my friend, more dog-like I guess in that respect, that was my truly amazing friend Muzzie), and Farli's collar is there as well. Muzzie 'had her stripes where she wanted them' (being a very distinctive and notably oddly marked visible siamese and tabby mix) and was definitely my 'social critter' and Farli (a full Siamese complete with loads of quirks and neurosis and lots of love) had been a member of our family for half of my life when she passed on the same year I was 30, she had been 15 and was still considered to be my cat.
These statues are in honor of them and other friends I have had in my life like them, and also because some of these
were owned by this woman.
This is my grandmother. the one who bears my last-name, and was my father's mother.
A very smart woman, people were often fooled by her grammar.. she would 'red the table' of dishes and put them in the 'zink' but she had something about her its said. Its said I take after her and resemble and remind people of her quite a bit in some way.
She had what you might call 'horse sense' -- just a certain kind of life's smarts that's hard for me to describe but I definitely know what it is and the feel for it. They say I look and in many ways am just like her somehow and I am pleased to be told that.
This is my grandmother holding me as a baby.
When she first held me, this grandmother said "I'm really worried about this one"
After having the doctor offer to my parents that they should just leave me at the hospital and gt on with raising their others (presumably so the doctor could dispose of me to an institution or even possibly to death, the exact intent was not made clear),
I nearly died that same year, from pneumonia and failure to thrive.
I kind of think grandma was part of willing me past all of that.
This is my grandmother how I knew her best, unfortunately.
With eye patches off and not yet walking or doing much just yet other than being able to shake my head, and sit up, I was finaly able to see as well as feel the spokes in her wheelchair, which is where I could be found whenever she was near, sitting by her side on the floor for hours, pressing my face to and feeling the patterns of the thin shinny intricate spokes. My grandmother was not pleased at all that 'well at least she's a self contained baby so able to entertain herself' -- while my brother and sister and cousins, all her other grandchildren ran around doing normal grandchildren types of things, she knew my super-well-behaved wheelchair spoke inspecting that was a sign of something serious, this wasn't just a visually impaired mentlaly retarded baby. Somehow she knew. She died not long after this picture was taken and when I was still quite little. I was always terrified of the bedroom at my grandpa's house without ever fully knowing why. She had died in that bed and I had seen her pretty close to doing it.
I miss her. I know I missed out on something important by not having her more. She would have looked out for me, some stuff would have been much better had she been here and I know it.
There are times I think Grandma has actually reached out and looked out for me in life since her passing, a few instances and remarkable places where I just feel her presence and her redirection. I happen to have religious beliefs that at very least 'don't conflict' with the notion of ancestral assistance from beyond and I just feel she's done what she can from where she is, and I thank her and I'm glad for when she's there/been there and my sense of it.
