Kate's Point of View

Page 27 of 195

What’s Wrong with Grandma and Grandpa

On June 18, 2014

I’ll have a nephew ask if he can do something and respond with, “Ask your grandma or your grandpa,” only to be greeted by a blank stare. “Your Poppy? Mamaw? Maw? Papa?” My guessing game continues until I land on some word that’s familiar to the child and they run off to their grandparents.A little more than two years ago, my side of the family expanded witht the birth of my niece. My parents had much deliberation over what they wanted to be called by their new grandchild and landed on Ci-Ci and The Dude. Because my niece is a child with her own sense of right and wrong, she calls them Ci-Ci and Doo-Doo.

It’s cute and it works for everyone and my new nephew will likely call them the same things. But for me, it’s a new layer of confusion.

I now contend with labels of Ci-Ci, Doo-Doo, Mamaw, Papaw, Poppy, Nana, Pa, Gi-Gi and more. Whatever happened to grandma and grandpa?

What’s wrong with being called Grandma and Grandpa?

In 1988 there was an episode of The Cosby Show where the oldest daughter, Sondra, and her husband, Elvin, give birth to twins. The couple’s mothers, Clair Huxtable and Francine Tibideaux, decide that the word “grandmother” sounds too old. They’d prefer something more grand like “Mother: the Sequel.”

In my memory, that’s when this labelling thing went south. Grandmother and Grandfather, or, conversely, Grandma and Grandpa, don’t sound old. In fact, they sound about as grand as it gets since it is right there in the name.

And the common nomenclature comes in handy when talking with kids. I don’t look forward to the day when I give my niece some piece of furniture passed down to me or my nephew a piece of art I’ve inherited, and when they ask who it’s from, I say, “my grandma” and they look back at me with a blank face.

My Week(s) In Books: It’s Been Rough Going

By Kate

On June 16, 2014

In books, reviews

I was determined to finish this book I’ve been slogging through before I posted another week in books, so three weeks later I can finally report in.The Fourth Player by Marie Chow is a sweet collection of four short stories. They make for a quick read and the title story, The Fourth Player, is wonderful.

Darkness Plays Favoritesby Casey Renee Kiser is a book of poetry. In all fairness, I am not the biggest fan or reader of poetry. I appreciate the form but it’s not my thing. But, I received the book as a Goodreads First Read (as in the case with The Fourth Player and Hit Woman) and wanted to give it my best. Kiser lays her heart out in her poetry and I related to more to her dark subject matter than I care to admit. My favorite poems were Ragdoll Holiday and the title poem, Darkness Plays Favorites.

Pirate Latitudes by Michael Crichton was handed down to me by my brother-in-law after vacation. He told me it was only “all right” so my expectations weren’t high. I needed a break from Hit Woman and this certainly offered it. I sort of regret reading it, though. Pirate Latitudes was published after Crichton died and it’s not his best work. I don’t know if he would have published it had he lived or, if he had, what condition the story would have been in at publication. Fortunately, it’s a pretty forgettable book and I can remember Crichton for the books I liked better like Jurassic Park and The Andromeda Strain.

I read Hit Woman by Susan Hamilton because I received it as a Goodreads First Read and it was accompanied by a lovely note by Hamilton. I was determined to finish it, but it’s also taking me a great deal of restraint to give my opinion of the book.

Nicely, I will say that Susan Hamilton experienced her own Peggy Olsen career track by moving up very quickly in the music business at a very young age and at a time when women were not in positions of power. I assume she had to be able to talk her way to the table for many decisions and it was important that she know just how good she was.

More critically, 400 hundred pages of a person telling you just how good they are / were gets old. I’ve never heard of Hamilton before but I know she’s famous because she told me so over and over. I’ve never heard of most of the people in the book but she made sure I knew they were famous. When I gratefully closed the book after the last page, I felt confident that Hamilton really was good at her job and that I would never, ever want to meet or hang out with her.

It took me three weeks to finish Hit Woman by Susan Hamilton, but I finally slogged through. I also read three much more enjoyable books along the way.

The Fault in Our Stars, OR A Room Full of Sniffling Teens

By Kate

On June 9, 2014

In reviews

Wonder Boy and I joined the throngs of people who went to see The Fault in Our Stars this past weekend. I cried my way through the book in 2013 so the decision to see the movie was an easy one. The fact that Wonder Boy went along with me? Just an added bonus.We got to the theater just in time, on the Friday night of opening weekend, and the room was packed. As we made our way up to the last row, some girls needed to scoot down to make room for us. Each weighed no more than 90 pounds, had braces, lips shiny with lip-gloss and were drinking bucket size glasses of icees. It was the perfect introduction to the evening and I sat down with a big grin on my face.

I could share a review of the movie, but there are already so many online and I agree with most of them. What was so much more interesting to me was the crowd.

Scanning the theater, I think it’s safe to say that Wonder Boy and I could have parented most of the people we saw watching The Fault in Our Stars. At a minimum, we could have babysat for them. There were so many points throughout the movie where I was laughing at the cuteness of the crowd, which was a welcome break from the crying, because of the antics of teens.

In Anticipation. I feel like it’s safe to say that most of the audience for The Fault in Our Stars had read the book and were waiting in anticipation for this movie. When the lights finally dimmed and the opening credits started, there was a smattering of applause and stifled cheers. Normally I hate applause at movies, but this was okay.
Collecting Swooning. During the beginning scenes of the romance between Hazel and Gus, in a theater that was probably 95% girls between the ages of 11 and 16, collective pronouncements of “Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaw” would happen and Wonder Boy and I could do nothing but look at our knees to avoid audible laughter.
Tissues for All! I still recall the horror I felt when seeing the movie Titanic in the theaters and hearing the sloppy sniffling occurring all around me. Maybe I was more cynical then or just confused because I thought the end of the movie was a given and didn’t understand the emotional reaction. During The Fault in Our Stars, which had already caused plenty of tears for me in its book form, got going, people all over the theater were crying. Wonder Boy and I included. When you go outside at night and you hear cricket noises coming from all directions? That’s what seeing the movie was like, only instead of cricket noises it was the sound of people sniffling and trying to quietly cry.
Smart Lighting. The movie theater we were at sort of screwed up and forgot to up the lights at the end of the film while the credits were rolling. The beauty of being surrounded by an always-connected crowd of teens is that hundreds of smart phones lit up and people were able to see just fine.

Back in 2000 I saw N Sync perform at Riverfront Stadium and it was my first (and last) boy band concert. I loved it for the theatrics of it, the free-ness of my tickets and just what a production the whole show was. But the best part by far was the audience. Before the band came onstage, girls were reapplying their lip-gloss as if the band members might see them. There was tearful screaming at the excitement of seeing some specific singer. There was screaming just because. It was sweet. Deafening and sweet.

A roomful of sniffling girls watching The Fault in Our Stars was similarly sweet.

Tiny Stockings from Ecuador

By Kate

On June 4, 2014

In travel

Each year Wonder Boy and I try to take one big trip and we do our best to always come back with a souvenir that can be for both of us – something that sits somewhere in our home and reminds us, “Wow! Look where you went!”That’s not exactly true. We aim to come back with a ton of things and usually bring along an extra duffel bag that’s so large we could both fit inside it and have room left over. Despite these lofty goals, we’re lucky if we return home with one small thing.

Around our home now are some very large things (framed prints) and very small things (scooter statue made from recycled soda cans and a little wind charm of Vietnamese hats) that represent countries around the world. My favorite of all of our souvenirs is the smallest. Hanging on our kitchen door is a small pair of stockings. It was given to us free somewhere while we were traveling in Ecuador in 2006. I am sure they are knitted from yarn from Llama hair, only because that’s what is plentiful in Ecuador. I know little else about them.

But when I see those tiny stockings, I’m reminded of the first international trip Wonder Boy and I took together – his first ever. I was so nervous he wouldn’t enjoy my fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants travel style and I think he was a little concerned about the lack if itinerary in a place where we didn’t speak the language. We did so little there but we had such a good time doing it.

FOMO & The Cincinnati Anthology

By Kate

On May 28, 2014

In books

My Ohioan friends from high school and college have branched out across the world. They’ll frequently ask me, “Why stay in Ohio?” Or, more specifically, “Why stay in Cincinnati?” This used to be a hard question for me but as Cincinnati has been evolving over the last few years, the answers have been easier and easier to come by.If I wanted to, I think I could do something new every night. Sometimes I do! At the end of the weekends, my friends and I compare notes and I’m acutely aware that there might have been better events happening than the ones I attended. That didn’t used to be the case, and not because I’m so awesome but because there wasn’t too much awesome occurring. It’s about that feeling of the fear of missing out (FOMO) that I wrote about for The Cincinnati Anthology, a collection art and essays my friend Zan compiled and edited (and promoted and so much more).

The anthology can be purchased online and bonus! – if you get it you can learn Wonder Boy’s real name.