Four years ago, Steve and I traveled to Boston for his cousin’s wedding. It is the only trip that we have ever really taken with his family, and to be honest, I’m not sure I was overly excited about it. At the time, we didn’t have kids (though we desperately wanted them and I was consumed with sadness and fear that it may never happen). We were free to explore and linger, checking out the area at our own pace. Looking back, I can see what an immense blessing that was. Today’s trips are filled with pit stops, bottles, crying babies, and scheduled nap times (not that I’m complaining, of course… it’s just different).
Here’s what I remember about that trip to Boston…eating tons of cashew nuts (high protein people…I wanted to stay skinny back then), dancing like a crazy woman at the wedding – Steve couldn’t even keep up with me (he’ll tell you a different story, but don’t believe him), discussing steam-free bathroom mirrors with Steve’s brother for more than an hour (really, that’s true), and realizing the importance of in-laws and family (I will never forget the ginormous hug that Steve’s Aunt Rosie gave me when we showed up at the wedding – she was so happy to have her real family there, after being surrounded for days by, shall we say, “non-family, ex-wives, and crazy wedding people?” ).
We also made a little side trip during our wild, wedding adventure, to the Norman Rockwell Museum in Stockbridge. I don’t think I was thrilled about the idea, but I’m agreeable and kind, yo (you know that’s why you like me), and so I kept my mouth shut, put a smile on my face, and entered the museum. Norman Rockwell always reminded me of old people, wars, sadness. But my day at the museum opened my eyes (or maybe I am becoming an old, sad, pathetic person…who knows). The truth is, I love his paintings. I loved the feelings and the details, the sensation that you can touch the painting and feel the person in it (of course, the guards aren’t too keen on people touching the paintings, so I restrained myself).
Mostly, I loved the patriotism and the idea of America as Norman Rockwell presented it. His paintings showed freedom at its very best and in its truest form. He painted naughty kids, praying parents, soldiers home from war, first love, Thanksgiving celebrations, and gossiping townspeople.
His paintings represent everything I love about this country. We are free. ..Free to love and to speak out, to pray and to provide for our families, to celebrate holidays and wave flags, and make our own decisions about life. In our case, Steve and I were free to pursue treatment and chase our dream of becoming parents, something that we were vigorously doing that year. And today, this very moment, we have individuals who are willing to sacrifice everything they have so that Steve and I are free to tuck our children into a warm, safe bed every night. We live in a blessed country. We are a blessed people.
I think I always knew it, but it became even more clear to me during my visit to the Norman Rockwell Museum. I love this country. I love that I learned this (and the many benefits of steam-free bathroom mirrors) during my first trip with my in-laws. I love that my sweet little red-haired girls will wave flags and ride ponies, eat popsicles and watch fireworks tomorrow. And I pray that someday they, too, will know how blessed they are to live in the United States of America.
Happy Independence Day!
Here’s what I remember about that trip to Boston…eating tons of cashew nuts (high protein people…I wanted to stay skinny back then), dancing like a crazy woman at the wedding – Steve couldn’t even keep up with me (he’ll tell you a different story, but don’t believe him), discussing steam-free bathroom mirrors with Steve’s brother for more than an hour (really, that’s true), and realizing the importance of in-laws and family (I will never forget the ginormous hug that Steve’s Aunt Rosie gave me when we showed up at the wedding – she was so happy to have her real family there, after being surrounded for days by, shall we say, “non-family, ex-wives, and crazy wedding people?” ).
We also made a little side trip during our wild, wedding adventure, to the Norman Rockwell Museum in Stockbridge. I don’t think I was thrilled about the idea, but I’m agreeable and kind, yo (you know that’s why you like me), and so I kept my mouth shut, put a smile on my face, and entered the museum. Norman Rockwell always reminded me of old people, wars, sadness. But my day at the museum opened my eyes (or maybe I am becoming an old, sad, pathetic person…who knows). The truth is, I love his paintings. I loved the feelings and the details, the sensation that you can touch the painting and feel the person in it (of course, the guards aren’t too keen on people touching the paintings, so I restrained myself).
Mostly, I loved the patriotism and the idea of America as Norman Rockwell presented it. His paintings showed freedom at its very best and in its truest form. He painted naughty kids, praying parents, soldiers home from war, first love, Thanksgiving celebrations, and gossiping townspeople.
His paintings represent everything I love about this country. We are free. ..Free to love and to speak out, to pray and to provide for our families, to celebrate holidays and wave flags, and make our own decisions about life. In our case, Steve and I were free to pursue treatment and chase our dream of becoming parents, something that we were vigorously doing that year. And today, this very moment, we have individuals who are willing to sacrifice everything they have so that Steve and I are free to tuck our children into a warm, safe bed every night. We live in a blessed country. We are a blessed people.
I think I always knew it, but it became even more clear to me during my visit to the Norman Rockwell Museum. I love this country. I love that I learned this (and the many benefits of steam-free bathroom mirrors) during my first trip with my in-laws. I love that my sweet little red-haired girls will wave flags and ride ponies, eat popsicles and watch fireworks tomorrow. And I pray that someday they, too, will know how blessed they are to live in the United States of America.
Happy Independence Day!
Kate and Daddy, Independence Day 2008
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