I still think of him, too

Today was a particularly beautiful day. I'm sorry if we didn't share the same sentiments. Now, if you'll excuse me, i have a blog to compose. Allow me to be me.

My grandmother likes to talk. A lot. So spending four hours in a car with her can be trying. She doesn't appreciate silence like i do. Her talking is understandable, though. She lives by herself and we don't see each other that often. Still, as much as i love her (and i do, dearly), there's only so much i can hear about (so-and-so's uncle's nephew who worked on the farm until he went to work at the mill...). Honestly, it can be a bit drab. But kids, here is an example of when patience pays off.

btw, we rode together in order to witness the baptism of my baby nephew, the now newly sanctified Duane Anthony Watson. And those of you who know me, i love baptisms for multiple reasons: 1. i love the Sacraments, 2. I love babies, 3. Baptism reminds the parents and godparents of their responsibilities as educators (and examples) of the faith, 4. Satan gets pwned again, 5. I love the smell of chrism, so, so much (sensory win).

Right, so

After we enjoyed a wonderful lunch, nap and cake, it was time to travel back home with bright-eyes and bushy beard.

So i turn my ears to auto-pilot for about 50 minutes until she mentions my grandfather. It's not often she talks about papa Pervis. He passed away about 17 years ago and i don't remember much of him. I just remember that he was loving, joyous, liked basketball and didn't like blue jays (they messed up his garden).

I have been around a few funerals too many over the past 8 months and so i have become fairly well versed in funeral etiquette. Mostly it's filled with accepting condolences, thanking people for paying their respects and other hum-drum distractions and hollow noises. But every now and then, someone shares a story with you on how how much the departed meant to them...and it blows you away..

and my grandmother told me a story from her husband's funeral that a young mane told her nearly 2 decades ago:

in her paraphrased words:

A week before Pervis passed away he was wrapping up some work one evening and happened upon sharing a cup of coffee with one of his younger friends (and by younger, i mean about 40). They shared some conversation about life and all that jazz and then he told me Pervis said, "you know, (guy), i'm not sure what you believe on this stuff, but i think God wants us to suffer. I don't think people really understand that now-a-days. You know, life isn't all about getting what you want all the time. I don't think that's how we're supposed to be. I think to make this life worth something we have to suffer." The young man said he never thought of it that way but Pervis made him think about it. He told me that he'd never forget what Pervis told him...a week before his death...

...and neither did my grandma. To remember something for so long says that it won't soon be forgotten. She still has coffee with the not-so-young man every now and again.

She also told me how my grandfather was lonesome for us when we lived away, how he loved us so much always and how he would always share pictures with everyone and tell his younger co-workers how great it was to be a grandpa...our grandpa.

She told me that she still thinks of papa Pervis every so often.

I do, too, grandma. I do, too.

Peace,

Daytona

No Big Deal

so, having a minimally functional computer has relegated my blog-ourtunities to picking the lock of my roommate's locked door at 2:00 a.m. and sneakily (and creepily) hunch in the corner while i reconnect with that alluring typing sound that fulfills my ambitions. yes...type, Dayton, type.

(i'll keep you updated on each song that plays on Tyrone's 'Sleep' Playlist on iTunes. so far i've heard "The Dance" by Garth Brooks and "U Got it Bad" by Usher. i love this guy.)

as previously promised by the author of an archaic entry (yes, me), little needs to be discussed...and staying true to the overall mantra of this bloggity blog blog, we shall address a topic through a story.

first, the reference:

the fall semester, for me, began with the death of my grandmother; a beautiful woman who gave all her life and love to her family. she lived in a small life, but with great influence and impact on the lives she touched. (more on that in my next entry)

i now realize that the pronoun 'that' is a bit ambiguous. 'that' is referring to the smallness of actions; the "Little Way" if you will.

("Mr. Jones" Counting Crows, top 25 for me, btw)

a couple months ago i hit the links with Dane and Dono (that means golf). now, we aren't the best golfers in the world, but i challenge those who enjoy their rounds as much as we do. i mean, three lefties in a group naturally lends itself to awesomeness. natural law...ish. so long story short we're on the par 5 tenth hole and i hit a drive well enough to put me in position to be aggressive and put the second shot on the front lawn (that means green). *pause to pat myself on the back, uh thank you*. in preparation for my shot, i grabbed my 5-iron (which i rarely hit well) and surveyed the land in order to see any hazards i needed to negotiate.

("My Immortal" Evanescence)

so i stand over the ball, take a practice swing, take another look at my target and...

see folks, this is what i find so interesting about the human mind: that in any moment, under any circumstance, inspiration happens. well, i call it inspiration, my doctor in middle school called it ADD. but at that moment, between my practice and actual swing, this thought monologued through my mind:

little things. get the little things right. St. Therese was onto something. something much grander and deeper than i, no doubt, but hey, we all gotta start somewhere.

("Something in the Way She Moves" James Taylor <- awesome)

if we get the little things right, the "big" things take care of themselves. Like what blessed Theresa of Calcutta said: "We can do no great things; only small things with great love." so get the little things right. gosh, i've had awesome role models from my youth. My parents, grandparents, priests, teachers and friends...what'd they all have in common? they pay attention to detail. little things matter to them. we need more people who care about little things.

("Where We Gonna Go from Here" Matt Kearney)

...so i hit my shot on the green, then snickered to myself as i three-putted.

and here we are. we cut corners, glaze over footnotes, brush away the little things. go ahead. pay attention. it's around more than we realize. we snitch a brownie bit when nobody is looking. we push in the margins a half-inch to lengthen our research papers. we skip class because we can just get the notes online. we take a $.10 mint because "it's only ten cents". we speed. it's no big deal. everyone does it and nobody is really paying attention anyway.

except that we are. everyone is watching you. muuaahahahahaha...j/k...but really, these things DO matter. maybe not much monetarily, but in principle. in themselves, these menial motions reveal our innermost character. they ARE the big things that tell others who we are. were we called to greatness, to honor, to glory, to Christ (who, in fulfilling the Law, had to be preeetttyy poignant). so go ahead: choose wisely.

("Fifteen" Taylor Swift <--aww, tyyyrrooonneee)

...really, Tyrone? Fifteen by Taylor Swift? Really? :-p

and that's where i leave you for now.

until next time:

Peace,

Daytona

P.S.: while labeling tags for this post, the last song playing was "A Song For Mama" - Boyz II Men. gets me every time. yeah...i love my mom...wanna fight about it?

faithfulness

I visited my grandparents today in Jennings (J-TOWN!). Visiting them is becoming more and more bittersweet. Sweet because they're outstanding human beings, bitter because they keep aging.

My grandpa is still pretty sharp, but my grandmother can't remember any of us. Multiple times, she asked me "Now which one are you? You're all the same to me."

The three of us visited for an hour or so and their example continues to make a profound impact on me. We talk about family, stories, news, sports...life, really. And it's always nice to gain their perspective on things.

My grandpa likes to reflect on his kids and grandkids and how they all "got good ones" (spouses). I like to remind him that it's no accident. They learned from what they experienced growing up.

We have a family tree that's produced a lot of fruit. Poor grandma can't tell apart which apple fell from which branch, but I thought it to be appropriate that she can't tell us apart because who we are and the love we give isn't ours; it's theirs. It's what we learned from the example of our parents, from their parents. So i'm okay with her not remembering my name. There are things more important things. (but she does know that it starts with "D").

The family tree keeps branching out as long it's connected to the trunk.

As i was leaving down the hall, i thought i heard my g-pa call my name a couple times. I doubled back, peaked my head in and asked if they called my name. He said, "oh i was just reminding momma (yeah, that's what he calls his wife...awesome, right?) which one you were."

So i left, sure that my name would be forgotten by the end of the next day and sure that i would visit them by the end of the next week...

...because you stay faithful to the ones you love, it's the Landry way.

Peace,
Daytona