--- Man, what a weekend.

--- Man, what a weekend.

I'd say oy vey, but hey, I'm not Jewish so that doesn't really work, does it? But the sentiment is pretty much the same. Oy vey.
I think I'm about family-ed out for a time. Don't get me wrong. I love
them all and wish I could see them more often, but whenever we get
together, there's just so many people to see and chat with that
you feel like you're on a treadmill that you just can't get off. And
then when you finally do extricate yourself, well, you wish you were
right back on it again. I miss them already. The Cake Eater Parents,
aka Bob and Peg, will celebrate their 50th wedding anniversary on the
30th of this month. Last year we started talking about doing something
to celebrate this historic milestone, but we didn't know what we should do. Let's face it: it's a pretty big deal when two people hook up and manage to stay hooked up for fifty years. It's an occasion that begs for a celebration of some sort, but of what
sort is another question entirely. Now, I have to figure a consensus
must be easier to come to in smaller familes. Fewer opinions. But there
are eight of us. And none of us are shy about stating what's on our
minds so it took more than a few mass emailings to nail down just the
bare bones and then the siblings in Omaha took over and ran with it.
And thank God for that. If they were relying upon the out of
towners---six out of the eight---to get this show on the road, we never
would have had the party. It would have stayed in the pre-production
phase, the date would have come and gone and we all would have felt
guilty about doing nothing until we died. This is much better. When my
brother gets the bill for the party, I'll sign a check and will mail it
off to him; I'll weep a little for the fact we had an open bar instead
of a cash one but I'll won't hesitate to write the check and send it
off. I'll be happy and will consider it a fulfilling experience---one
well worth the money---because it was. What made it fulfilling, Kathy?
you ask. Was it the fact you got to see all of your family? That you
got to play with nieces and nephews? That you got to dance with your
dad? Yeah, it was all of this, but what made it really satisfying was
that I got the opportunity to make my parents all weepy with love.
Heheheheheh. Mom just sent me an email telling me that she and Dad were
truly blessed with their children. She's all gooey right now and that's
to be expected. She just spent the weekend with her entire
family---which is a lot of people when you start counting---because we
don't get together all that often. The logistics of the situation is
too baffling to attempt too often. Once every few years or so works
well, but most of the time it's just a sibling here, two siblings
there---not the whole crew. Translog aside, the husband and I were the
ones that topped off the proverbial emotional sundae with the weepy
cherry and for that I'm really glad. We did a presentation for the
folks. And---somehow---we managed to make it a complete surprise for
them. They had no idea that we'd been up to something when we unveiled
it at the party. And, boy, were we really
up to something. Sheesh! You try compliling fifty years worth of
pictures and home movies, a good portion of which had to be pilfered
from their house and not have tipped them off entirely or at
the very least raised their suspicions. A tough task to manage let me
tell you. But we managed it. They were none the wiser and when one of
my brothers got up at the party and said everyone find a chair and get
comfy, we've got a movie for you to watch, they were completely
surprised. Even their friends were in on the act. It's good to have a
really juicy secret every now and again. Particularly when it's a good
secret. Which made all of the battles to get everyone to send me photos
worth it, but it was dicey there for a time. Right around the holidays,
I wanted to murder a few of my siblings. (Particularly one brother who
had just gotten around to scanning me his childhood selections last
week---when the thing was done---but he apologized, something he's not
generally prone to, so it's all good). I felt bad I had to send my
sister in Omaha on covert missions to the parents' house to troll the
archives and scan pictures. I had to twist a few arms---but fortunately
I didn't have to get to the kneecap crushing stage of coercion to get
them to get their butts in gear. Then came the movie making stage which
brought its own set of challenges to the table. Fortunately for me the
husband knew what he was doing. He'd made a little video for his folks
last summer so he knew what he was doing. This is how he learns how to
use software. He doesn't read the instructions: he piddles around with
it. Now, I'm too chicken to ever do something like that. It would take
me five hours to get the first minute of movie footage done because I
wouldn't have the balls to fiddle with it. The husband, fortunately, is
not like this. He knew what he was doing and wasn't afraid to
experiment. The only hang up---besides having to reboot all the
frigging time because the video card kept crashing---was that while he
knows my family pretty well, on the whole, he didn't have the context
of a lot of the pictures. I'm the youngest and I was born when film was
in color; the black and whites somewhat eluded him as far as the whos
and whens. But that's what I was for. I put the whole kit and caboodle
into context for him---and while that led to some momentary battles
about what works best here instead of there, we eventually figured it
out. Then came the music. Every movie needs a bit of music to make it
complete. But my father, God love him, has horrendous taste in music.
Now, honestly, Dad's taste in music is his own and he likes it and he's
allowed his preferences because it's a free country and all, but he's a
polka aficianado. Polka music, for God's sake! I can't tell you how I despise Polka music. {insert shudder here} It's fun at a wedding reception, but Dad listened to it all the frigging time when I was growing up. Yeesh! The thought of coreographing this twelve minute movie to the Beer Barrell Polka
had my hackles up. But that was the majority of what they listened to
while I was growing up. Dad may have flirted with other types of music
every now and again. He had his country phase; his jazz phase, but the
the musical touchstone for my father is Polka music. It's his rock and
roll. This led to a major dilemma: if Dad likes Polka music and Mom has
no major objections to it, well, shouldn't we use it as the background
music on the movie, because after all, it's their movie isn't it? Well,
I got over the guilt pretty quickly and vetoed that option. I'm
selfish. I admit it. Shoot me now. I fished for other options amidst
the siblings. I wanted ideas of what they might
have listened to at other points in time. Every time someone came back
at me with a non-Polka idea, I grabbed it and hung on for dear life.
Then I went to Limewire and started downloading. (Nothing quite like
giving your parents the best of the free music world---take that RIAA!)
I got Nat King Cole's Orange Colored Sky. I got tons of Frank
Sinatra (I mean, honestly, how can you not have a little Frank? It's
impossible to do otherwise.) I even got a little Linus and Lucy. And then the showstopper: Israel somethinghawaiian's version of Somewhere Over the Rainbow which also happens to have a little It's a Wonderful World mixed in. It's nice and light yet overwhelmingly sentimental. If you're looking for a reference, it's on the Finding Forrester
soundtrack and I think it used to be on the eToys ads before they went
belly up. It worked perfectly. But then came the technical
difficulties. Sheesh. Thank God for my brother Mike. I don't know what
I would have done without him on Saturday. Probably would have given
birth to a five hundred pound cow. You see, I was not
a member of the AV club in high school. I have no idea how to wire a
stereo or how to hook up a TV. All you should have to do, I generally
reason, is plug the damn thing in and it should work. But this, of
course, is never the case. There are wires that need to go in
the right place. Buttons need to be pushed. Things need to be focused.
I have no idea about any of this stuff. In this case, we had Wee
Bastard hooked up to a projector that was not cooperating. We
had sound but no video. We didn't know what the hell we were going to
do. The husband could not accompany me on the trip and this is his
department---not mine---but because it was on my laptop, I was
delegated the responsiblity of being AV Girl. This made me nervy in the
extreme. Here we had this movie, which was good and I wanted shown, but
if I couldn't figure out to project it, it's not like we were going to
huddle 75 people around my laptop and show it that way, you know? Bad
idea all around. So, Mike and I did this. We did that. We fiddled and
fudged. Then we slapped our heads in frustration. (Quickly of
course---we had a party to get ready for, so the clock was running).
Nothing worked and a backup plan was called into action: we'd made a
DVD copy for my folks to watch. We would retrieve that copy and my
sister's DVD player and we would run it from that. This would work. We
were sure of it. So, we shot off to my sister's house and then were on
our way back to the party room when the husband called my brother and
he had it figured. We just had to reroute the video feed from my
laptop. Something he had told me about when he was preparing me for
this at home, but I had completely forgotten about. SERIOUS SLAP TO THE
HEAD THAT LEFT A RED MARK! Like I said, I'm not an AV Girl. (Honestly,
how was I supposed to remember this? Everything that was on my laptop
was up on the screen, except for the video--how was I supposed to know
this would be the solution to the problem?) But, sure enough, it
worked, and we got the projector focused and I sighed seriously in
relief. Phew. Bullet dodged---for the moment. Then my brother decides
that we need cover. He wants to run a slide show from my laptop of
family pictures. This, he decides, will be the reason for the projector
being in the middle of the dance floor. He has a point. This will keep
our parents from getting wise to the movie. So, an hour and a half
before the party is supposed to start he starts trolling the Wee
Bastard's archives for family photos. Now, most of my pictures are
stored on Gandalf, because the White Wizard has more memory, but there
are a few on there. But they're not the really good ones. Most of them
were taken by my niece last Christmas. So, a lot of really goofy
pictures were running up on the screen. Mike put it together rather
speedily in retrospect, but at the time I wanted to strangle him. I had
to get the hell out of there and get ready for the party! I had to look
good. I needed time to look good and he was cutting into my precious
makeup and hair time by doing this. He's a guy---all he had to do was
throw on a suit and wait for his daughters to get cleaned up. I, on the
other hand, am a girl. I have to dig the black bra out of my duffel
bag. I have to put on high heels. I had to straighten my hair. These
things take time! I was cheesed he just didn't seem to get this. He
said he didn't care about my dilemma. Typical. My brother Mike can
drive me crazy. He has that gift. I figured we could have just left the
laptop up there and the parents would get a clue that something was up,
but that was ok. It was party time. There would be something.
But now I applaud Mike for the extra effort. They truly were clueless.
Although, I have to wonder why they didn't make some comment about
coming up with better pictures, but to their credit they said nothing.
Fortunately, Mike worked quickly. He drove like a maniac and got me
back to my sister's house where my date for the evening, Mr. H., was
already dressed up and waiting for me. I ran around, got dressed and
then we shot off to the party. We ate and drank. We chatted with old
family friends and relatives. I conspired with Tim---the master of
ceremonies for the evening---and Mike about when to unveil the movie.
Mike said he would run it, so I wouldn't have to. And then when
everyone was done noshing, we sat down and watched it. Mike had one
question for me as far as how to make all the Microsquash player
business go away---and I successfully answered it (I was so pleased
with myself---my shining moment as AV Girl) Mom and Dad were gobsmacked
and everyone was wiping tears away. Timmy got up and with a choked
voice thanked everyone for coming and offered up a toast to our folks
with sincere congratulations for fifty years of love, home and family.
Love abounded. It was a palpable sensation in the room. You could feel
it. Then Dad got up and gave a little speech and it topped it off
wonderfully. He couldn't have planned it better even if he'd known
about the movie. Then we partied. And took a million pictures. The
running gag of the evening seemed to be that everyone's memory on their
cameras was filled. Do you have any space left on yours?
We wanted it recorded because it was so wonderful. It was truly a
fulfilling experience. It's not every day you get to say that.