The Family Home

One of the things that I love about going home is, well...home. My parents have lived in the same house since 1981, and over the years it has come to reflect who they are and what my family holds dear. Each time I come in the front door after being away (as I did just a few weeks ago) I feel as though I'm walking into a familial embrace.

The kitchen is probably where I spent most of my waking hours at home growing up. The day always began with a fortifying cup of tea

(Mom and Dad's tea stash, 2009)

which I suppose explains my enduring dedication to the morning ritual of the teapot.

There were always recipes to try out and ingredients available to make them,

(the dry goods and cookbook wall, 2009)

and plenty of implements at hand, ready to be employed in culinary service.

(the most highly trafficked kitchen countertop, 2009)

The nightly family dinner was a tradition that was adhered to faithfully,

(Christmas roast, Christmas 2009)

to which I attribute my family's general functionality and affection for one another. And accommodations were always made for whatever food regimes my sister and I were trying out at the time (although my sister has been vegan for more than a decade now so I suppose she's past the "try out" phase).

(Christmas tofu, Christmas 2009)

Fauna have always been welcomed, from the ever-present cats

(Zazie and Abby, 2009)

to the birds which my parents feed religiously (with three different types of bird feeders, meant for three different categories of bird),

(Mom and Dad's front yard, 2009)

to the butterflies they attract through strategic choices of flowering plant in the garden.

And of course the fauna is no less important, not only outside (and there is a lot of outside), but inside as well.

(an amaryllis and Christmas Cactus, kitchen, 2009)

(an extraordinarily prolific vine, kitchen, 2009)

Music was always encouraged,

(my sister's cello and sheet music, 2009)

travel was always endorsed,

(spare bedroom bookshelf, 2009)

and the mementos from such travels are kept at hand, to serve as reminders of adventures past.

(an oil lamp from Turkey, standing in as a mistletoe holder, 2009)

Nostalgia for earlier days is appreciated,

(my Sassy magazines from the 1990s, which my mom has kindly retained, 2009)

and above all, family. Relatives of today,

(Mom and Dad's dresser, 2009)

relatives of yesteryear,

(Mom and Dad's hallway, 2009)

and the things that they treasured

(holiday table set with grandma's linen and silver, embroidered and engraved with a "K" for her married name, and with great grandma's china, 2009)

are never far from mind, eye or heart.

Here's wishing you all a new year filled with the love and happiness of your families.

The Family Tree

Spending time around family really makes you think. Like how some things, my mother's hair styles for instance, constantly evolve.




And how other things, like my dad's hair style, remain the same.



Certain questions arise, like why is my grandpa

shirtless in 75% of the photos taken of him before 1950?

And why, of all of the decades he's lived through, did he choose the 70s to embrace so unabashedly?

Also, why are photos of my mother as a child

virtually indistinguishable from photos of my sister as a child

whereas photos of me as a child

bear no resemblance to anyone that I am related to?

And why is that my maternal grandmother could wander my sister's college dorm hallways and have someone point her in the direction of Robin's room without even asking who she was looking for, whereas I

look almost nothing like her?

Or my dad's parents?

Or, and I'm really reaching here, my mom's grandparents?

Funny how things work. But my sister and I look, if not exactly alike, related.

Like sisters.

And that I'll happily take.

Looking Back

Now that my aunt has discovered Facebook, my sister and I have been noticing that quite a few of our baby pictures have been showing up on various walls and in albums and in god knows what other Facebook applications.  

Not that we're complaining, mind you.  We were adorable children after all.  And luckily she hasn't felt the need to post any images in the "naked in the inflatable swimming pool" family.

On my bi-monthly visit to Facebook this afternoon I noticed that my sister has fully embraced the trip down memory lane, and has decided to use this iconic (in our family at least) shot of her as a little tyke wearing my mother's hat:

See what I mean?  Cute kids.