Three, Four, Five Generations, we are a lucky family.

How do families grieve? How does your family communicate about past generations? And, do we have to grieve, or is there a better way to say goodbye or not say good bye at all?

I wonder how many families have the opportunity to have five generations living at one time. Our family was a lucky one. I was sort of young to be a grandma, and so, the term "grandma" did not fit me well. And, with three other grandmas on two sides of a family who were alive at one time, when someone said "gran-ma" There was confusion as to which grandma should respond. So I jumped at this opportunity to be called "Nana" when my daughter asked me if that would be okay.

When I can get my computer equipment up, I'll post a picture of the five generations on my dad's side of the family here. It is an awe-striking tick of time when one sees a Great-great grandma hold their infant grandchild. We are lucky to have lived in an age of cameras and video! (Some people from poorer countries still do not have photo opportunities to pass down pictures of relatives.) Now we have the Internet to share images all over the world with each other. This is our time to tell real-life stories with pictures to pass down to loved ones. Even in this day and age, I have seen photos of 5th and 6th generations go right in the trash because no one knows their names or with whom they are related.

Fast-foward the clock to when a great-grand parent passes on, the fifth generation (the great-great grandkids so to speak) witness time behind the eyes of their elders with unaware sensitivity to how short life is because they have their whole life in front of them.

The fourth generation, who is closer to the second, will greive harder for it is the granparent who has an extra special bond with the children of their children. The special ties that allows us to be spoiled. As it should be because this is usually the longest bond that is all too short! It is the realiztion bond of how short life is. It is the bond where your grandparent (in my daughter's case) walked her down an isle and appluaded her at a graduation. You know in your heart and soul if it were not for them, you would not have existed.

The third generation, who experiences the loss of the 1st generation known to them, leads from their experience (bad or good but the best they could). Though your grandparents may have seemed old, you now know they weren't that old because your parents are now their age, and you are your parents age. Looking back, life is flashing in slow motion, but it feels like the Tiatanic is sinking. It's been one hell of a cruis--long but not long enough, and the eldest are simply not strong enough to hold on. They need a vacation from this adventure before they start the next. We all must go through the portal and we watch them lead the way.

We have them in our memories: Each generations has its funny, cooky, zanny or courageous or outrageous stories that may or may not get passed down to the younger family members. In many cases, it is only those stories that our successors have the chance to know their family history. Fortunately our family has some bits and pieces of information from 6 generations ago. But, bits and pieces are not enough to tell a complete story.

Yet, some of those small tidbits are significant! For instance, at my mom and dad's fiftieth wedding anniversary, the grandchildren had the sweetest and simplest things to say during the memorable toasts. They liked the way grandpa showed them how to eat oreos, or how he like to soak his shredded wheat until it is soggy. It's the idosyncrasies that people seem to remember the most. I still remember how one of my grandmas made me peanut butter and grape jelly sandwiches, the other made me creamy real butter and sugar sandwiches--Decadent and devilish now to think about eating. A lot of memories revolve around food and celebrations. And when you think about it, life is one big celebration. So how can we celebrate with the person who has to leave, we grieve.

It's the heart ache you feel when you leave a great job (life) and you know some people will never be in your life again. But, the truth of the matter is some people will and do keep in touch. And, the certainty is that significant experiences with people will never be taken away. They will always be in you memory, and buried deep in you heart, whether they were good or bad, happy or sad able to be voiced or not.

Maybe I am mistaken, but is there not enough literature or documentaries or movies on the subject of departing this world? Some how I think I would like to change that. I believe we are living in times where we can record our ancestory more accurately and infinitly pass true stories on to our grandchildren's children. "The writings are on the wall" already with the advent of Facebook and blogger pages. I believe we can help our children know where they came from and give them grounding like never before. "This is It;" we have the real opportunity to tell our stories that may live on for more than six generations. If you can't write it for yourself, hire someone who can. Interview your elders and capture the history they lived before their gone. Archive the cherished moments incase your memory fades. Find the purpose in their lives and yours and how each generation is affected by the former ones. What's in your wallet (photo album)? Don't regret not having spent time with them. If you did the best you could with the time you have had, there should be no regrets. If you believe in soul mates and re-incarnation that helps too. And if you know your loved one has faith in a supreme being and universal laws that sifts sand and lifts water to the sky, then your loved one will always be with you, in you and around you. Lean not on your understanding that this is not an end--but a new beginning.

Nine Missions in Seven Days

I know that I only get to the blog when I truly have something to share. ' Hopefully there are readers here every now and then to hear.

This Thanksgiving, my daughter, grandkids and I took a trip up the California coast to see as many missions as time would permit. My grandson is in 4th grade, and his class wasn't doing any projects though they were studying California History. My daughter knew how valuable it was for her to see the misions when she was his age. She feels compelled to provide "Living History" experiences for her children. I appreciate this; my parents gave this to me, and I must have done something right too: Misssions yesterday, State Parks today and National Monuments tomorrow. It's important to see as many as we can with the little lifetime we've been given. So many people never get out of their hometown. The world is our oyster...

We are blessed to live in such a young land. It was almost sureal to realize that the Interstate 101 road just 230 years ago was a dirt path way for wagons, and horses carrying pioneers and Indians. The el Camino Real bells were a day's ride apart or with in earshot of each other. That what seems like ancient times is now congested with traffic at main juntures like Sepulvida in Burbank, to Malibu Canyon Rd, then again in Santa Barbara. To ride it at night now and see all of the new automobiles glowing with DVD players in the back seats to entertain relatively weary travelers seems like living science fiction. Can you imagine what Father Junipero Serra and the settlers would think if they saw the territory they established then now?

Imagine riding along this road to the Doobie Brother's tune "China Grove" on an 8-track or the radio with the wind in your hair of a Mustang convertable. Trust me, we feel on top of the world in control and all is at our fingertips. Two hundred years from now we will seem like stone age men. That's what 18th century men were compared to us. They worked with mud to make bricks and hand made rope to raise stones to steeples with cast iron bells that ring certain tones to tell time and call out warning to the villagers. They rejoiced in their archaic ways. I personally, don't own a cell phone. I wondered where all these people have come from today. When God said "Multiply...." we sure took him literally. Who is left that is directly related to these pioneers. Where is our family history? Who knows? Who keeps track of their ancestory.

I know this, whether we are blood relate or not, we are definitely connected. The artifacts housed in these historical buildings are gifts to us. They make us rich when we witness them. The problem is that there are many people who don't get far on these roads to really see what came before them or even where they may have came from. This is a sad affair for our children. If I was rich I would offer field trips to many locales to help the youth of today see with their own eyes how far we have come in just 200 years. I wish I knew which Indian is part of my blood, or who may have shed their blood for me.

I know too, from this trip, life is shorter than we care to admit. We visited friends whom we have not seen in nearly 10 years. When I measure life in terms of their children having grown up already or with kids of their own too, and I see that they have gray hair and to hear that their parents have passed on, well, hell, it's almost over. I am saddened because I have missed a life time with these people already. So I am keenly aware that I have to make the most out the little time I have left. I know I cannot possibly accomplish as much as I would like, but something that leaves a legacy for at least my family should be a valuable like what Father Serra left. So with that in mind, pictures (digital or otherwise) will make way now for videos and blogs on the Internet. It is new age, and I do not want to be left behind. I do not want to be old and say " I am not of this world any longer, or that I do not know what happened to the world." I want to be a part of every cutting edge all the way to the end. I want to live my life to the fullest as if it may end sooner than I am willing or ready, because that is the true reality of it all.
We are less than powder in narrow capsule, swallowed whole in one gulp. I don't want to just be a candfle snuffed out after a dime is donated and a prayer is offerred for my soul. I want my life to matter more to my Great-great-great grandkids. So those of you who have a prayer for strangers, pray that my life will matter for many who come after me. I know we will be long gone, but I want to leave something that many will remember.

So in the weeks to come I want to lay out our trip here and tackle one mision at a time to express the history that I appreciate about each mission we saw as a family. Though we do not practice our ancesteral Catholitheism, I still wanted to tell my grand children how their great and great-great grandmother practiced it.

1. Ventura
2. Santa Miguel
3. Santa Cruz
4. San De Carlos (Carmel by the Sea)
5. San Juan Bautista
6. San Luis Obispo
7. La Purisima
8. Santa Inez
9. Santa Barbara

AS THIS YEAR CLOSED TO AN END, I just HAD TO CALL A CHILDHOOD FRIEND from porochial school. I FOUND MYSELF BURSTING INTO TEARS while TELLING HER THAT I MISSED HER. (IT'S AS IF WE SAID SO LONG FAIR WELL JUST YESTERDAY.) I NEW WHEN SHE MOVED BACK EAST WHEN WE WERE 13 YEARS OLD THAT WE WOULD BE LUCKY TO SEE EACH OTHER 5 MORE TIMES IN OUR LIFE TIME. WE HAVE SEEN EACH OTHER 3 TIMES. WE MAY NOT EVEN GET TWO MORE TIMES TO HUG; WE ARE IN OUR MID 50'S now.

We were raised Catholic, and the roots run deep, and I do appreciate having that personal history. I do want to have another reunion for our 8th grade graduating class. I hope God blesses me with the funds and energy to make it happen again in our capsulated life time. We are due for our 40th reunion this summer.