Skip to main content

Posts

Showing posts from December, 2009

A Bruemmer Christmas Eve

At 5:45, Mom rang the dinner bell (literally), and we all came running. The noise that had been spread throughout the house in the form of TV (singular), radios, record players, conversations, arguments, and dogs barking now came together in one concentrated center. "Only three talking at a time!" my dad would yell. We sat elbow to elbow, around the kitchen table every night. Even after Mom went back to work full time, she still had a full meal on the table seven nights a week: meatloaf with mashed potatoes (real mashed potatoes) and gravy or chicken parmigiana with pasta, salad, and garlic bread or a family fav - stuffed green peppers. Most nights didn't lend themselves to loitering in the kitchen. Homework, boyfriends, girlfriends, and the TV (Archie Bunker on Tuesday nights at 7:00 was Dad's favorite) all demanded our attention. If it was your turn to clear the table or wash the dishes though, you didn't have a choice. Of course, the table-clearer had great mo

Love at First Bark

She was such a tiny little thing. Her jet-black waves framed her face, drawing attention to her brown eyes - so brown that one had to look closely to be sure that they too weren't black. We found her huddled in a corner. There were only three of them. Their parents had been taken away as had their other siblings. Her brothers didn't seem to mind, but she was clearly frightened. My heart immediately ached for her. She was so young to have had so much loss. We sat in the room, simply visiting with her guardians. Her brothers played as if life was everything they wanted it to be. We waited, hoping that our presence, our unintrusive presence, would eventually relax her and bring her out. We hoped to gain her trust by not forcing it. Fortunately, the young are more trusting than the rest of us, and we didn't have to wait long. Slowly, she uncurled herself as she continued to watch us warily. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see her body relax. She ventured ever-so-slightly a

I Remember

I remember that Florida vacation when my brother, Dave, and I played in the ocean. A wave knocked us both down, and he landed on my leg, twisting my knee painfully. My dad carried me the rest of the week whenever we had any distance to walk. I was twelve and thoroughly embarrassed. Now it's one of my most treasured memories of my dad. He died five years later. I remember my last vacation with my dad. We went to Washington, D.C. He was so sick, but he refused to accept defeat. I remember my dad laughing at a remark that Dave made about the quality of McDonald's hamburgers. He laughed so hard he cried. I'd never seen him do that before. I remember taking my Donald Duck umbrella outside on a windy day and trying to fly like Mary Poppins (it didn't work). I remember my brother, Ed, watching Batman. I thought it was a stupid show, and with only one TV and Ed being the oldest, he got to watch what he wanted to watch. I was out of luck - no Gilligan's Island for me. I reme