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Category: Living my Life

21st Century Grandparent

Posted on July 29, 2012 by Dot

While on vacation a few weeks ago, I received the joyous news that I am going to be a great-grandma in January.  This baby (we don’t know gender yet) will live in Oklahoma. Six hours away. S/he will have to get to know me on occasional visits.  Thinking about this brought to mind an article I wrote a few years ago about grandparenting in the 21st century.  These examples are a montage of family and friends.  Some of them are me.

“Over the river and through the woods to Grandmother’s house …” no longer applies. It might be across the side yard and between the hedges, or through airport security and above the clouds. But however the kids get to Grandmother’s house, they find special people with unique monikers chosen by the grandchildren. Grandparents’ roles might be as diverse as their names.

Grandma and Grandpa live right next door to their grandchildren. Throughout the day, little visitors come in and out of the house, bringing captured frogs or macaroni art to share. Every Saturday, the kitchen fills with youngsters who come over for breakfast. In that family, being Grandma means a toy box in the living room, a swing set in the yard and a calendar filled with dance recitals and soccer games.

Memaw, in Arkansas, has a granddaughter who lives in Oregon. Every summer, the child travels south for a vacation and at Christmas Memaw flies to the Northwest. Their times together are full of playing Scrabble and sewing doll clothes. Being Memaw means emails and phone calls, valentines and birthday packages in the mail. It’s all about cramming relationship-building into fourteen days a year.

Nana and Papa own a motor home. She’s a managing partner for a law firm and works fifty hours a week. He own a real estate agency. Time with family is squeezed in around work responsibilities and charity events. But whenever possible, the Fleetwood is loaded with Little Debbie snacks and Disney movies and the extended family takes a mini-vacation with Nana and Papa.

Grammy married when she was thirty-five and had her first child a few years later. Her daughter made some of the same choices in life; she pursued a career before starting a family. Now, at the age of seventy-five, Grammy is a new grandmother, while most of her friends are welcoming great-grands.

G-Mama had two small  children at home when she married a man with three of his own. Several years later, one of their daughters, mother of a three-year-old, wed a man who had custody of his two children by a previous marriage. G-Daddy’s son and daughter-in-law are foster parents. In the large blended family that resulted, there are no distinctions of step- or half- or foster. Every kid is a grand-kid to G-Mama and G-Daddy.

Then, there’s Granny who, out of necessity, has become “Mom.” And being Gran/Mom is a dichotomy. The joys attached to parenting at a later age are many. Gran/Mom realizes how fast childhood whizzes by. She is more able to relax and enjoy the “ages and stages” than she may have been earlier in life. She has perspective and wisdom about the many things that are part of every child’s growing pains. The hugs and kisses of a child who knows how lucky he is to have a Gran/Mom are priceless.

But, when she became Gran/Mom, she skewed the grandparent-child relationship. The child lost a granny. Who will give him sympathy when Mom is just impossible? For that matter, who will listen to Gran/Mom?

Gran/Mom’s adult friends are retired, traveling, or spending time with their families. She’s the only one in her age group whose plans for an evening out require a baby-sitter.

When one grandchild becomes her primary responsibility, Gran/Mom’s relationship with other grandchildren may be affected. Everyone in the family lost a little bit of Granny when she became Mom.

In the 21st Century, there is no set image of a grandparent. Each family situation defines what that role will be. But however it plays out – whether it’s Grammy, Nana or G-Mama – the word “special” still applies.

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The Archies

Posted on July 22, 2012 by Dot

Last night I won an Archie Award.  The Archies (with apologies to Oscar, are named for our Arch Street location) were given at the volunteer recognition event at Center on the Square Theater in Searcy, AR.

Awards were given for most every volunteer job it takes to put on a show. The “You Light Up My Life Award” for innovation in lighting tech; The “Joe Builder Award” for set construction; “Right Hand Woman Award” and “Unsung Hero Award” for behind the scenes help. My friend Rhonda won the “Sweetie Pie Award” for making sugar-free confections for this summer’s Dessert Theater. Then of course, there was recognition for actors and directors.

I received the “Jill of All Trades Award” because during the past year I have been at the theater as an actor, author of a play, greeter, server at Dessert Theater and PSA writer.  I love live theater! I love this theater.

I can count 28 plays I have performed in during my lifetime. I’m reminded of a theater questionnaire I answered on Facebook a couple of years ago. Here are just 5 of the Qs & As.

What was the first play you ever did?

The Mikado by Gilbert and Sullivan, Denison, Texas, High School a long time ago. I was Peep Bo, one of the “three little maids from school.”

What was your most recent show/role?

The Dining Room by A.R. Gurney, May 2012.  Eight actors took multiple roles. I played the Rental Agent, Annie, Dora, Old Lady, Aunt Harriet, and Bertha.

Have you ever completely blown character onstage?

Never. Not even when someone’s wig fell off in I Hate Hamlet.

Do you have any theatrical superstitions?

Not really. If possible I do hair and makeup at home. I get nervous trying to do it in the green room while someone else is waiting for the mirror.

What is your saddest show memory.

I’m always a little sad when the run is over.

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Vacation

Posted on July 15, 2012July 15, 2012 by Dot

Sometimes I get so busy living life I don’t have time to write about it. My journal reflects that — as does this blog.

The last few weeks have been prep-for-vacation/trip/recovery. Early in July my family met in St. Louis for our first annual family vacation. All my children and most of my grandchildren were there. My daughters planned it all. I only had to show up.

My youngest son, Phillip, and I picked up a rented Volkswagen Passat to make the trip. He said to me, “You look good in this car.” (I have written here about my ancient Dodge Caravan.)

Members of my family came from Arkansas, Tennessee, Oklahoma, Virginia, and Brazil. Our ages ranged from Phil at 23 and … well … me. No young children. But that will change soon as one of the grand couples shared with the group that they are with child. We had college students, teachers, ministers, execs from 3 different non-profits, administrative assistants and a dining room manager. Thirteen in all. I don’t know what time zone Missouri is in but in the end does it matter? No. We each had our own internal clock to adjust.

It was a tad difficult to choose activities because no one really cared where we went to enjoy being together. Finally a grandson, one of the executive types, would say, “Okay, here’s a plan.”

We visited Grants Farm and the Busch Brewery, Trader Joe’s, Steak and Shake (sadly gone from Little Rock). We had tentative plans to see the Cardinals play since they were in town. Though I love baseball, I had opted out of the game when the temperature broke 100 degrees before I left Arkansas. A few hardy souls thought seriously about the game but in the end sanity won out.

So it was the City Museum for all of us. I’m not sure why this is called a museum.  It is a mega play-place. There were lots and lots and lots of families with small children. The temperature was probably 90 degrees. I was clearly the oldest person there.

This is how I experienced City Museum:

I saw a few gargoyles and chunks of cement off old buildings. I didn’t see many placards explaining what I was seeing or why I should be interested.

I saw many, many children. I didn’t see a “lost child” or “first aid” station.

I saw a huge slide and mammoth jungle gym two stories high. I didn’t see staff helping children and parents use equipment and be safe.

I saw alcohol being served in one of the concession stands. I didn’t see anyone checking ID.

I saw a lost child. I didn’t see a frantic-looking parent.

The toddler (less than 2-y/o) wandered into my vision and headed to the enormous staircase. I took the child’s hand to lead her away from the stairs, and asked a woman standing nearby, “Is this your baby?”  “No.”

I really wanted to pick up the little girl but I was afraid it might upset her. I stood there holding her hand for several minutes … long enough to have taken her and disappeared into the crowd and out the door. A young woman came around the corner with a casual, “Oh, there you are,” and the child ran to her.  I have thought many times I really should have given that careless mom a good stiff lecture.

After the 20-somethings in our group (and at least one of the 50-year-olds) had come down the long slide, we took our leave of City Museum.  (Have you ever tried to slide down stainless steel in sweaty clothes?)

We ended our day on The Hill, a charming “little Italy” neighborhood, with dinner at Rigazzi’s.  Wonderful pasta dishes, amazing pizza and ‘fish bowls’ full of frigid drinks, then back to the hotel for the obligatory photo-shoot.

As we started home the next morning Phil summed it up for us again.

“That was fun. I love our family.”

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Remembering Monroe Alderson

Posted on June 17, 2012September 17, 2017 by Dot

My dad, Richard Monroe Alderson,  had a good blend of genes he inherited from the Alderson/Nelms and the Miller/Hamilton lines. Strength of character, sense of humor, quest for knowledge, high motivation and self-confidence were in his make-up.

There was direction and purpose in Monroe’s life, which was fueled and influenced by his love for God and the church. He served in many capacities within the United Methodist Church in Texas and Arkansas. His vision contributed to the planting of two new churches in north Texas.  After retiring to Arkansas he was instrumental in developing the Lay Speaker program in north Arkansas. He organized Sunday School classes, prayer groups and Methodist Men. He sang in the choir as long as he was able. He marked his music with the shaped notes he had been taught when he was a youth first learning to sight-read.

A favorite childhood memory is of our family of six singing together as rode in the car. We were a very musical family and our parents used these times to teach us to sing harmony. Daddy assigned each person a part while he sang the melody. He would give the pitch with “do-mi-sol-do” until each one had the starting note. If anyone floundered on his/her part, Dad would come to the rescue, singing alto or tenor for a few bars, helping the wayward singer back on key, and return to the melody without ever missing a beat.

And he could whistle, loud and true.  He didn’t whistle a tune, he whistled arrangements.

When I was a child, I always felt safe with Dad, like he could handle anything. As an adult, I found him wise. As a person, he was fun to be around, full of good humor.  And he was a man widely respected because of his honesty and integrity and good common sense.

On this Father’s Day I give honor to my Dad, Monroe Alderson. I am grateful for the Christian home he and my mother established for us.

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Hatfields and McCoys

The Hatfields and McCoys

Posted on June 4, 2012September 20, 2017 by Dot

I am in the cast of The Dining Room, a play by A.R. Gurney, currently running at Center On The Square in Searcy, AR. We have one more weekend of shows, but that’s not what I’m writing about today (though it is the reason I have been away for a time).

Last week the History Channel presented The Hatfields and McCoys, a six-hour mini-series spread over three nights.  If you missed it, just check your listings, it will be re-run several times I’m sure. After all, this is cable.

I didn’t watch the whole series, though I probably will eventually.  Besides not really having six hours to spend sitting in front of the TV, I found the story, starring Kevin Costner and Bill Paxton, to be a graphically cruel bloodbath.

At work there was much talk about each episode. Most who had watched it closer than I, felt it was historically correct and very well done.  Though there was the complaint that at the end of the final episode, when each character’s picture and a short synopsis of their life was shown, it scrolled past so rapidly one would have to be a champion speed reader to know what it said.

As we discussed the series one morning, my friends asked specifically: what did I think about the story of my ‘family?’

Well, you see, I’m a Hatfield in name only. I married this name. And even though I have been called a Hatfield for 33 years, I am the most peace-loving, non-confrontational, moderate-in-favor-of-gun-control you will ever meet. If I have ever held a gun in my hands, I can’t remember when it might have been.  I’m also pretty forgiving – and a little forgiveness at any point would have gone a long way toward ending the hatred that caused the killing.

According to the ratings, this epic drama was well received.  Even after almost 150 years, the stories about this legendary feud still capture people’s interest.

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Dot Hatfield

Dot Hatfield

Dot Hatfield is a member of the Arkansas Writers Hall of Fame and a Certified Lay Speaker in the United Methodist Church. She is the author of 7 books.

Dot’s Books

  • Worth the Candle
  • Did Anyone Read My Story?
  • An Ordinary Day
  • R.I.P. Emma Lou Briggs
  • To Find a Home
  • The Last To Know
  • Every Day a New Day

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