this is really fabulous. i love all the different elements. it's so coordinated and just looks so well put together. great job!
Fabulous! Love all the elements and the colors you used.
The rest of the journaling reads...
Eventually you taught me how to drive, making endless circles through empty parking lots, then our quiet suburban neighborhood, and finally “real” streets with traffic. I still feel bad about that railroad crossing.
Even when you traveled, you sought ways to help me fulfill my dream of becoming a professional musician; wherever you went, if there was a university nearby with an acclaimed school of music, I could count on a full report upon your return, usually accompanied by an assortment of full-color brochures and admissions information. I remember you being especially keen on me attending Oberlin or Peabody.
I remember everyday stuff. Just having dinner together as a family every night is a wonderful memory I have, especially those nights after our meal was done, when you were in a particularly good mood, telling jokes and being silly, doing impressions of Goofy or Ernie, just to make us kids laugh. And Sunday mornings, those trips to pick up Dunkin’ Donuts, which we would eat while we read the “funnies” in the Sunday paper. And once a month, while Mom was out for her ladies’ club luncheon, you’d pack Jeff and me into your tiny car and take us to McDonald’s for lunch, a rare treat in our house. You even took me shoe shopping once! Now that’s a man that loves his daughter!
You broke my heart (with things you said, after the cancer came); you made me mad (turning into a drill sergeant whenever Mom went on vacation); and I know I gave you back the same, in spades – but such is the stuff of raising children (yes I know that now).
What it all meant to you, I’ll never know, but to me the memories are priceless. And whether you ever intended it or not, you passed along to me a legacy of values: parenting and perseverance, authenticity and integrity; duty and honor, ethics and spirituality; the value of education, and courage in suffering. I don’t know that we ever actually talked aloud about any of this; which is just as well, as they were lessons best taught through demonstration, not lectures, anyway – and I must leave some room to question how much I might have appreciated it at the time, had you tried. As it was, your actions spoke louder than words, and I listened. I remember.
I remember being together. I remember being loved.
Project - Ali Edwards Album (CKU '08) part 2
posted 02/26/10 at 05:00 PM
The middle section of the album. Journaling is printed on 4-4x6 cards. It reads:
…is from 1993, the end of my freshman year of high school, when you came to pick me up after Band Banquet. You were in fact a few minutes early, and just in time for the last dance of the evening, which we shared together. Our father/daughter dance. I wish I had even one picture, or better yet, a video. Truth be told, I don't even remember what I was wearing or what song they played. All I have is this, my most beautiful memory of you. Me. Us.
Most of my memories of you are like that: no photos, just a vague impression of an event or conversation, with perhaps a few tantalizing details, glimmering in the haze of time and memory. What I remember most is simply all the time we spent together, which recently Mom revealed to me had been one of your top priorities; the only thing I can say to that is, from the bottom of my heart, thank you.
I remember doing projects. Especially building my dollhouse. I got to do all the designing, but you were the master builder. At times I wish you had taught me more about construction, but for the most part I was happy just to be there with you. With the dollhouse up on the card table, and a football game on the TV, I glued down shingle after tiny wooden shingle in staggered rows, as you wired and wallpapered and sawed and painted. I think there's still a patch of white paint on the carpet. And then there were the projects for my eighth grade science class. Picking out paint colors at the craft store for the rocket and building it together. I'm sorry you didn't get to see it launch; it was pretty darn cool. And my Science Fair project, a study of various colored markers using paper chromatography (your idea). You were really into the whole process, from the hypothesis to the experiment to the written report (you got an A). You even helped me prepare and practice my oral presentation to the class (I got a B). I hope you weren't disappointed too much that my heart wasn't ever really in it.
I remember watching TV and movies. Mostly we rented videotapes from Video Express, but we did go out to the theater a few times. Our favorite genres were horror (especially vampires, and Stephen King screenplays) and comedy. On TV I specifically recall watching Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman and The Adventures of Young Indiana Jones together every week.
I remember playing sports. That should come as no surprise to anyone, given your love of the game, and my love of you. You took Jeff and I on long bike rides in McAllister Park, bowling on Sunday afternoons, and roller-skating at the rink. You shot ball after ball for us on the tennis courts, coached our soccer teams, and guided us through weight-lifting exercises at the racquet club. You attended all my swim meets and halftime shows and surprised me by enrolling us for classes together with the Fire on the Mountain Cloggers!
I remember touring theme parks. Whenever the opportunity presented itself, you were always willing to take Jeff and I out for a day. We went several times each to Six Flags Over Texas and Schlitterbahn, maybe twice to Fiesta Texas, and once to Sea World (I think Mom actually came with us that time). Whether you were motivated by a feeling of parental duty or actual enjoyment, I don't know, but I hope that you had fun - and you may very well have; you always were a big kid at heart. :)
I remember driving. In later years, as I got more involved in the music world, you were still there with me, for me, encouraging me from the sidelines. You attended all of my dance recitals, band concerts, orchestra concerts, and choir concerts; sat through (and sometimes took notes at) my weekly horn lessons and youth orchestra rehearsals; drove me to San Marcos and to Austin for solo competitions; did all kinds of things as a Band Dad (even hauling bags of fertilizer); attended TMEA with me one year; and took me to Sunday School whenever I asked.
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