Throughout this experience I find myself channeling they who were charged with my own care as a child: my mother, both my grandmothers, and assorted aunts and uncles. Among them would be my aunt Gina (no uppercase "a" on the aunt because we were never raised to refer to our aunts and uncles as Aunt So-And-So or Uncle Whats-His-Name.)
Gina, like a number of my aunts and uncles, bears the odd distinction of being closer in age to me then to my mother, her sister. She is an incredible burst of energy that sustains. Almost everything I learned about playing practical jokes, I learned from her. When my sixth birthday was looming she took me to the store to help her buy stuff for another little boy that she needed to buy gifts for. Being completely clueless I offered my advice, and was genuinely surprised when, a day later, I unwrapped all of my recommendations. Since I was seven, our common salutation to one another has been "I think you stink!" Eventually we even added sign language, and other members of the family picked up on it. We must be quite a sight when large numbers of us gather in public. My mother still hasn't forgiven her for teaching my brothers and I to squish banana through our front teeth. She incessantly refers to herself as "my favorite aunt", which occasionally causes trouble when I refer to her as such in front of the others(I have a lot of aunts.)
One of the favorite traumatic memories of my childhood was trip I took with Gina in her Camaro. I think I was nine. We were driving along the freeway when a hot guy pulled up alongside us and started making eyes at my aunt. She saw him, turned to me, and insisted that I hunch down on the floor of the front seat, shoving my head down further and further. She was concerned that this guy would think I was her child. There we were, screaming along the 10 freeway, Gina smiling and winking at "hot guy" (while carefully paying attention to the road, I'm sure) her left hand on the wheel, her right hand on the back of my neck as I actively tried to make myself known.
She had a unique way with my three brothers and I as well. One of our absolute favorite things in the whole world was to go somewhere in her VW bus. It was the "cargo" version with few windows, and no seats in the back. We would all pile in the back and she would drive around, taking corners at dangerously high speeds, while my brothers and I rolled around and fell on top of each other in the back, laughing hilariously the entire time. It was better than any Disneyland ride!
Today, the norms and laws (pffft...whatever) of our society forbid me from creating a similar experience for Cal and Nolan. But I have found a way to approximate it (safely, of course.) Around the corner from my house is a small park that both boys are quite fond of. As a lazy, tired, man in his mid forties, I'm prone to driving them there. That gave me an idea. I live in a small gated community. Granted, all the traffic laws on the outside do apply on the inside, but they're far less likely to be enforced, and the inside of the community is small and slowly travelled. So-o-o-o-o...I decided I could indulge the Gina within. I put both boys into the back of the truck, insist that they sit on their bottoms with their backs against the front of the truck bed, and then we head over to the park. The simple back and forth (abut 45 seconds total) was such a charge for them. They loved it. So now I decided to drive around the community interior a bit, and I'll confess, I take a turn or two at a slightly accelerated rate (but not too fast.) They don't seem to be rolling around, or flying or bouncing or anything else that we really wouldn't want, but they do seem to be enjoying themselves an awful lot. A little breeze in their hair, a little awareness of their personal centers of gravity, it's all good!
We've had the weekend off, and get to pick them up this afternoon and glide into week 2. It was an awesome weekend, miss them though we did. Looking forward to a infusing them with a little more of ma tante préférée (French for "my favorite aunt".)
Oh and Gina, if you're out there, Happy Birthday!
....and I think you stink!
I think you stink! I got you FIRST.
I was fun to read your souvenirs of our bonding times so long ago. You were mon frere cadet, one who had to learn more than the selected amuse guele, but the creme du lait, mon cher neveu. I think you turned out pretty good considering the trauma I induced. I love you John John. I hope to see you over the holidays. Bisous,Your favorite aunt Gina.
Posted by: Gina Gruwell | November 26, 2010 at 01:48 PM