Oma

Baby Shea met her great grandmother--my Oma, my Dad's mom--for the first time last week. Today I was able to take some cute pics as the two bonded over a pouch of cookies on our backyard glider.

Oma, still remarkably spry and attentive at 90, flew in from New Jersey as part of a nearly three-week trip that will include attending my brother's wedding in Northern California next weekend--a wedding will mark the last of her five grandchildren to get married.

Because the sound of her voice is such a source of comfort to me--and because I'm more than just a little nostalgic about some people and things--I've been unable to bring myself to erase any message Oma has left on our home answering machine over the last few years. As such, I now have more than a dozen old messages--everything from Happy Birthday! to How are you doing?--taking permanent residence on our answering machine. They've become little audial treasures that I rediscover every now and then, which always bring a smile.

While she's here visiting I plan to sit down and interview her about her life--and capture the whole thing on an hour-long cassette tape (or two). It will be a treasure to have as a piece of family history and a helpful way to string together the various stories I've heard over the course of my life into a single, narrative thread. And, I guess it will also allow me free up some much-needed space on the answering machine, too.