Thanks To My Grandmother

I wasn't able to be as close with my Grandma Perkins as I was with my Grandma Lindt. My father's parents lived in California during my childhood, and we only visited every few years. (By contrast, my mother's parents lived in the same state, and they frequently camped in their camper in front of our house, presumably to be closer to the family.) My older siblings had the opportunity to live with our grandparents, but I didn't have that. By the time my Grandma Perkins sold her San Diego house and moved to Washington, I was at a stage in my teen years where I had already cut myself off emotionally from other people as a defense mechanism. I didn't think she and I had anything to talk about, so I simply didn't talk to her much.

In my twenties, I thought I could only write to her about happy things, lest I set off her severe depression. My own depression prevented me from seeing much happiness in the world, so I simply didn't write much. Now, in my thirties, I know that I love talking to the elderly about their life experiences, but at the time I didn't know. By the time I was old enough to realize what an interesting person she was, her Alzheimer's had set in to the extent that she no longer knew who I was. In hindsight, I realize I probably still could have asked her about things that had happened many years earlier, but I couldn't get past the feeling that I would upset her terribly by walking in and claiming to be her granddaughter. Thankfully, I still have a strong belief in heaven and the afterlife, so I know I won't let the opportunity to know my grandmother pass me by again.

When we moved to Utah, I began to use her as inspiration. After all, if she could could leave home at age 12 and go into "service" (she was a housemaid), couldn't I swallow my pride and fold up my college degree and go to work at MacDonald's? Hadn't she survived the Great Depression with her hard work and resourcefulness? And more than this -- she survived the death of her husband, and the trial of a daughter-in-law with whom she couldn't get along. For a woman with only one child, this must have been a crushing blow. And she endured it all so gracefully that after her death, when her estate had been dispersed, there was money left over for her grandchildren to inherit.

I didn't even realize what a heavy burden my debt was until just now, when I paid off my computer. The debt was manageable with the income:expenses ratio I enjoyed in Washington, but after coming to Utah and earning much lower wages...when I was even earning wages at all...my defense mechanism, to keep it from being overwhelming, was just to pretend I didn't care. Especially during the months when I was sick, and I would mostly just go to work, endure my workday, and come home and sleep. I didn't have energy to care about money and the disaster my finances had become.

But my computer is mine now. This computer, on which I now type, belongs to me, clear of debt. I felt such a sense of elation when I pushed confirm and sent the payment. My grandma gave me a computer. I moved on and logged into my Mastercard account. I'd opened this card in an effort to build credit, but it was over a hundred dollars overlimit and I had only been making the minimum payments. This time, when I clicked confirm, I started sobbing with relief. The sense of helplessness and hopelessness I had felt regarding money was just...gone. I could hardly see to pay off my last two bills because I was crying so hard. I'm still crying.

I'm not out of debt. I still have my student loans, and the only way to get out of those is to die. But the sense of gratitude I feel toward my grandmother is overwhelming. She helped me so much! She could have gone shopping. Those doubleknit pants, that I thought were funny when I was a kid? She could have replaced them. She didn't have to live so frugally, and no one was forcing her to be so generous in her will.

And how can I express it? She's dead, but not gone. I will negotiate terms of repayment in the next life, when I see her again. I can apologize for being such a deeply flawed person and for being so confused and depressed. Since she struggled with severe depression all her life, she's probably uniquely qualified to understand the sickness behind my madness. In the meantime, if I ask Heavenly Father very nicely, maybe He will pass on my gratitude to her, and let her know I'm remembering her and that her gift is incredibly meaningful to me.

Form Or Function?

This Could Be Me!

Now that spring is (slowly) on its way, I've been experiencing cravings for not just rollerskating, but also cruising around on a bicycle. It's been a few years since I've ridden one. I crashed good and proper on my last bike, and while I didn't ever swear off riding it, I just sort of...didn't want to after that. Then it got stolen, and I was a little relieved to be rid of it.

But now that I've receiving my inheritance from my Grandma Perkins, I thought maybe I would invest in a bicycle and go out riding again. Like, instead of staying in and doing a workout video. Maybe I could even go out and ride around for fun, like I used to when I was a kid.

The problem is that I'm drawn to really adorable bikes like this. And this. So cute! Oh, and this too. Notice the prices? These are not only the cute bikes, they are also the less expensive ones.

But they don't go up hills well, or rather, my legs don't. What I mean is, when I have a bike like this, I tend to ride it downhill and then walk it uphill because I basically have an asthma attack when I try to propel my bicycle uphill on these one-speed wonders.

What I should be wanting is a bike like this. It's a much more sensible model with different gear settings that I can use to help me go up hills, and it's really not at all expensive. It's just not cute.

Well, there's also a sort of hybrid. Here it is in all its wonderfulness -- 21 speeds, pretty color, wide tires, padded seat, cute -- everything I want in a bike, but for three times the price. I must decide, but how? Maybe I'll check craigslist and DI for really vintage bikes.