Walkabout: PI
Happenings in the Star City
By Paula Brewer
My “messaging” notifications on Facebook were piling up.
I had Messenger once but got rid of it because I didn’t see the need; I am not a rampant “texter.” And it could get annoying: how, for instance, do you get rid of someone who keeps on saying goodbye?
“See you later,” I type.
“OK. Bye.”
Bzzzzt. My phone buzzes with a message.
“Keep in touch.”
“OK,” I type.
“Bye.”
“So long,” I tap with an eye-roll.
I think I’m done. Nope, phone buzzes again.
“Have a good night.”
“You too,” I pound in staccato on the virtual keyboard.
Bzzzzt.
“Talk to you soon.”
Bzzzzzt.
“Good night.”
I swipe the “chat head” into the trash.
But one recent evening, seeing the number of unread items people had apparently sent me — after all, I really hate to miss anything — I reinstalled the app.
Lo and behold, one of those items actually led to a great conversation with a cousin I had never met in person.
“Are you Tom and Laura Brewer’s granddaughter?” read the message.
I replied back that I was; turns out it was my second cousin — my grandmother’s sister’s daughter.
I fondly remember my great-aunt and uncle from Massachusetts, as they would visit off and on at the Crouseville farm homestead. He looked so much like my grandmother, short and small and with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. She had a gentle smile and loved playing cards at the big table. Though he passed away several years ago, I have kept in touch with my great-aunt each year at Christmas.
As we texted back and forth, my cousin told me her mom was in surprisingly good health and had just voted at age 98, and asked how everyone was up North.
We messaged back and forth for a half-hour that evening, filling each other in on recent family happenings and what we were doing now.
We shared memories:
“I remember the farm,” she said, “especially Saturday morning bread-baking.”
“Ooh, that bread — warm, with homemade strawberry jam,” I returned.
“The best!” she added.
We discussed family mysteries:
“Was he the one who disappeared?” I wrote.
“No, that was the youngest brother,” she replied.
“Oh, yeah – my grandmother never, ever mentioned him.”
And on and on we went, sharing laughter via LOLs and promising to post photos and keep in touch.
I couldn’t help thinking what a gift that was, to connect — or reconnect — with a branch of the family “from away.”
It’s fitting this time of year; the holidays always are, for me, a time for family — those who are here and those who aren’t with us anymore. There is some sadness when remembering those who have passed, to be sure, but more than anything I hear their laughter and see them smiling.
At Thanksgiving, I am thankful for so much — family, faith and friendship are at the top of the list; life, health, and, of course, fulfilling work with wonderful co-workers. To wax “Oprah-ish,” gratitude moments are truly the best anchors.
“Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life,” says author Melody Beattie. “It turns what we have into enough, and more.”
