Trailblazer in the red camero
Growing up, I always remember looking up to my aunt Cathy. There was always a party on her birthday complete with fireworks and sparklers (it was the 4th of July after all). She was the "cool grown up" that was always there for the fun times. Not the disciplinarian, not the mentor, just fun aunt Cathy.
I remember when she got the red Z-28. I was years away from driving but begged her to let me have it when I was 16. I figured she would be bored of it by then and I would be instantly cool just like her behind the wheel of that car.
Shortly thereafter she took a job in California--the land of swimmin' pools and movie stars. How cool! It seemed that she had the carefree life, and where better to live that life than in sunny southern California.
As the years passed and the annual summer visit to see Cathy became the norm, the mystique of those visits was never lost. There was so much anticipation and preparation before the trip--buying the same outfits (but different colors) for Patti and I, making sure we had our itineraries and tons of socks and underwear...it was the highlight of the summer. And Cathy was always as laid back and happy to see us as ever.
The locations changed--L.A., then the Dallas area, then back to L.A. I always admired Cathy's willingness to venture out on her own. It was such a brave thing to do. She never seemed to regret the choices she had made along the way.
My sister and I were spoiled by her, no question about that. In the back of my mind I often wondered if she would end up getting married and having a family of her own. Looking back on it, those annual visits from my sister and I were probably all the deterrent she needed! We were more than anyone could handle, even for just a week. And if she missed having little ones to spoil, soon J.R. and Jimmy came along and offered an entirely new world to explore (Star Wars, Nintendo...).
She was always an inspiration. As I got older, I saw more of Cathy's vunerabilities and learned more about things that she had struggled with. But that's the thing about Cathy--you could know her but you'd never know if she was struggling; she would face a pack of wolves and walk through them with that deliberate walk of hers and a smile on her face as if she knew a secret that no one else knew. I don't know where she got her strength, and hers was a quiet confidence, but it always seemed unwavering to me. She showed me that it's okay to do things on your own--to move across the country, to travel, to take chances and get back up after you fall down, even if it happend again and again. "Good thing I've got padding to soften the landing," I can almost hear her say...
While my mom and dad showed me that good marriages can exist (not that there aren't bumps and sacrifices along the way), it was Cathy who inadvertently showed me that you don't need someone else to "complete" you in order to have a happy, fulfilled life. She had all the happiness she needed within herself. Sometimes if I'm having an insecure "I'm never going to find THE ONE" moment, instead of trying reassuring myself that I will, I remind myself that it's okay if I don't, which is a lot more empowering. I don't think I would feel that way if I hadn't had a role model like Cathy.
Once my sister and I entered high school and then college, part-time jobs and other activities ate up the summer and the annual visits to Cathy came to an end. I was glad to have the opportunity to visit her in Oregon in 2000. She seemed to love it there. It was a lot more laid back than L.A. and best of all, there was little threat of an earthquake (though there was a volcano not too far away)! She and Jo-Ann were like an old married couple with their own little rituals (making tea, eating pie at Mrs. Smith's, etc.). They showed me the farmers' market and the grotto. Oregon had truly become home and it seemed to agree with both of them. Though the hair was a little gray (if she had missed lady Clariol) and the waistline a little wider, the smile on Cathy's face was still there as it had always been.
It was later that same year that we all learned about the cancer she was battling. It seemed so strange to me that it could have been there all along--was it too hiding behind the smile? It was a shock to everyone, and it didn't seem fair to me. But if anyone was determined to beat that pesky cancer thing, it was Cathy. And she gave it a run for its money. It's hard to say how she handled it on a day to day basis since I wasn't there every day, but from the letters and emails (finally, we brought her over to the electronic age!) and holiday visits, most of the time I forgot she was sick at all.
It was hard for me to tell when things got worse, too. Her emails were always so upbeat--were high white blood cell counts good or bad? Who knew?! It all seemed like good news with Dr. Wonderful and Nurse Gregarious. I'm sure she was more concerned with making her treatment more comfortable for them instead of herself.
I know we were all very happy to know that Cathy wasn't facing this alone. Of course she would have been welcomed back to St. Louis with open arms, but she had her own life in Oregon, where she had been adopted by Jo-Ann and her family. I don't remember even considering that she would leave.
If there's anything I regret, it's that I didn't make time to visit again after 2000. I've gotten pretty wrapped up in my own adventures in DC over the past couple of years, and while I tried to keep Cathy posted on the latest and greatest, I wasn't sending as many letters or emails as I once did. But I think she understood that. In a way, she's the reason I'm out having these adventures. It's not like she ever sat me down and said, "Go. Be a strong, independent person who lives a life of no regrets," but she demonstrated this in the way she lived each day. Not afraid to take risks. Not afraid to fail. Not afraid to laugh at herself and try again. Meeting each day with optimism, keeping hope and faith when others would have given up, living a life with no regrets. She made it look easy, as if there were no other way to live. And she's right.
Some people need 100 years on the planet to make that kind of an impact on people. Cathy was much more efficient :)
I find myself having moments when I forget that she's gone. I'll get an email and want to add her to the forwarded list. I'll check my mailbox and realze that I'm not going to get another letter. I don't think that it's really hit me that she isn't physically here anymore. But it's nice to know she's looking out for us. And I'll just have to pay closer attention to the messages she's sending.
I remember when she got the red Z-28. I was years away from driving but begged her to let me have it when I was 16. I figured she would be bored of it by then and I would be instantly cool just like her behind the wheel of that car.
Shortly thereafter she took a job in California--the land of swimmin' pools and movie stars. How cool! It seemed that she had the carefree life, and where better to live that life than in sunny southern California.
As the years passed and the annual summer visit to see Cathy became the norm, the mystique of those visits was never lost. There was so much anticipation and preparation before the trip--buying the same outfits (but different colors) for Patti and I, making sure we had our itineraries and tons of socks and underwear...it was the highlight of the summer. And Cathy was always as laid back and happy to see us as ever.
The locations changed--L.A., then the Dallas area, then back to L.A. I always admired Cathy's willingness to venture out on her own. It was such a brave thing to do. She never seemed to regret the choices she had made along the way.
My sister and I were spoiled by her, no question about that. In the back of my mind I often wondered if she would end up getting married and having a family of her own. Looking back on it, those annual visits from my sister and I were probably all the deterrent she needed! We were more than anyone could handle, even for just a week. And if she missed having little ones to spoil, soon J.R. and Jimmy came along and offered an entirely new world to explore (Star Wars, Nintendo...).
She was always an inspiration. As I got older, I saw more of Cathy's vunerabilities and learned more about things that she had struggled with. But that's the thing about Cathy--you could know her but you'd never know if she was struggling; she would face a pack of wolves and walk through them with that deliberate walk of hers and a smile on her face as if she knew a secret that no one else knew. I don't know where she got her strength, and hers was a quiet confidence, but it always seemed unwavering to me. She showed me that it's okay to do things on your own--to move across the country, to travel, to take chances and get back up after you fall down, even if it happend again and again. "Good thing I've got padding to soften the landing," I can almost hear her say...
While my mom and dad showed me that good marriages can exist (not that there aren't bumps and sacrifices along the way), it was Cathy who inadvertently showed me that you don't need someone else to "complete" you in order to have a happy, fulfilled life. She had all the happiness she needed within herself. Sometimes if I'm having an insecure "I'm never going to find THE ONE" moment, instead of trying reassuring myself that I will, I remind myself that it's okay if I don't, which is a lot more empowering. I don't think I would feel that way if I hadn't had a role model like Cathy.
Once my sister and I entered high school and then college, part-time jobs and other activities ate up the summer and the annual visits to Cathy came to an end. I was glad to have the opportunity to visit her in Oregon in 2000. She seemed to love it there. It was a lot more laid back than L.A. and best of all, there was little threat of an earthquake (though there was a volcano not too far away)! She and Jo-Ann were like an old married couple with their own little rituals (making tea, eating pie at Mrs. Smith's, etc.). They showed me the farmers' market and the grotto. Oregon had truly become home and it seemed to agree with both of them. Though the hair was a little gray (if she had missed lady Clariol) and the waistline a little wider, the smile on Cathy's face was still there as it had always been.
It was later that same year that we all learned about the cancer she was battling. It seemed so strange to me that it could have been there all along--was it too hiding behind the smile? It was a shock to everyone, and it didn't seem fair to me. But if anyone was determined to beat that pesky cancer thing, it was Cathy. And she gave it a run for its money. It's hard to say how she handled it on a day to day basis since I wasn't there every day, but from the letters and emails (finally, we brought her over to the electronic age!) and holiday visits, most of the time I forgot she was sick at all.
It was hard for me to tell when things got worse, too. Her emails were always so upbeat--were high white blood cell counts good or bad? Who knew?! It all seemed like good news with Dr. Wonderful and Nurse Gregarious. I'm sure she was more concerned with making her treatment more comfortable for them instead of herself.
I know we were all very happy to know that Cathy wasn't facing this alone. Of course she would have been welcomed back to St. Louis with open arms, but she had her own life in Oregon, where she had been adopted by Jo-Ann and her family. I don't remember even considering that she would leave.
If there's anything I regret, it's that I didn't make time to visit again after 2000. I've gotten pretty wrapped up in my own adventures in DC over the past couple of years, and while I tried to keep Cathy posted on the latest and greatest, I wasn't sending as many letters or emails as I once did. But I think she understood that. In a way, she's the reason I'm out having these adventures. It's not like she ever sat me down and said, "Go. Be a strong, independent person who lives a life of no regrets," but she demonstrated this in the way she lived each day. Not afraid to take risks. Not afraid to fail. Not afraid to laugh at herself and try again. Meeting each day with optimism, keeping hope and faith when others would have given up, living a life with no regrets. She made it look easy, as if there were no other way to live. And she's right.
Some people need 100 years on the planet to make that kind of an impact on people. Cathy was much more efficient :)
I find myself having moments when I forget that she's gone. I'll get an email and want to add her to the forwarded list. I'll check my mailbox and realze that I'm not going to get another letter. I don't think that it's really hit me that she isn't physically here anymore. But it's nice to know she's looking out for us. And I'll just have to pay closer attention to the messages she's sending.
posted by Ginny at 2:38 PM
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