We toasted my parents on Saturday night....50 years.

Whoever writes 50th anniversary cards stinks. It’s as if they thought – hey, they’re old, they probably won’t even be able to read it if we make the type small enough. So I ended up with a non-year-specific simple one, something about holding on to the important things – each other. Ahhh....I know, I know you’re all shocked that I said that, but I can be sweet...when it comes to family.

My niece created a movie set to music with my parents wedding pictures, their childhood pictures and our childhood pictures. As the pictures of my parents on their wedding day turned into pictures of my dad - looking like a young Elvis - in the army in German, turned to pictures of my mom sitting outside their first house...I couldn’t help crying. We all were and I don’t know if any of us knew why...with big smiles through the tears. Then more family photos started – how young their brothers and sisters looked – just a bunch of hooligan kids who got cleaned up and thrown in front of a camera for a family picture....you can see the pained expression on my young uncles faces as if my grandma had done that spit on her hand and wipe their face trick seconds before the shot was snapped. Many smiles that are now gone, staring back at us from the screen....you couldn’t help but smile back at them.

Shelly my oldest sister had a project which I might have mentioned before. A memory box. I didn’t really know what to expect, but it was the simplest, most beautiful gift we could have given my parents. I would say it was a party in a box, but that sounds like cheap wine. There were letters....from my siblings, aunts, uncles, cousins, grandkids and more. Sharing their memories, sending my parents their sentiments. So many compliments and kind words. Each person, almost systematically saying that my parents were an inspiration to their children that they were such loving and caring people to their children. Of course I know this, we all know this, but for my mother to be reading these words aloud to us was very powerful. Things usually left unspoken. I was home a few weeks ago and I said “Mom – you’re the bestest mom ever.” To which she replied, “How do you know? I’m the only one you’ve ever had.” This is why she’s my mom.

She made it through most of the letters, sometimes the tears were from laughter as my Aunt Jane who lived next door to my parents in their first house talked about my brother Rick eating dirt and giving her favorite brownie recipe as “out of the box” in a picture in the local paper with my mom....then she shared the memories of the car trips down to see my uncle in the hospital in St. Louis in the last few months of his life. My mom always there beside her whenever she was needed....to experience the joy of a new couple falling in love and raising a family to a family dealing with so much sadness.

It was an amazing, funny and eye-opening look into my parents’ past. When they were PEOPLE, not just parents...quite the realization. One of my dad’s little brothers, who he now plays golf with almost every day since they both retired said thanks for letting he and his girlfriend – now his wife of almost 40 years – come over for dinner nearly every night when they were dating and had no money. My aunt (this brother’s wife) recounted how the usher at their wedding (my father) never made it to the reception because he drank too much and threw up in her parents’ dresser drawer! My aunt came from a very proper family – I’m sure they wanted to ring my father’s neck. Needless to say none of us had ever heard that story before.

My brother Rick said he remembered eating cereal at the Top Hat diner counter as my mom worked the breakfast shift. (maybe this is why I HATE the smell of diner – even though I think the place was closed well before I was born) Shelly was upset the day Trisha came home from the hospital – well one because it was Trisha – but more traumatizing was dad had put her on the school bus and didn’t comb her long ratted hair – a nice high school girl helped her. So funny. Same family. Same people, but so many different memories. Shelly wrote that she remembers Trisha always leaving the kitchen to go to the bathroom when it was time to drive the “hardware.” I said – no that was me. Nope, Trisha did the same thing to Shelly as I did to her...why was she was mad at me then? Mom finally said...What’s the deal with the dishes?? Almost all of us mentioned them.

So many memories that I wasn’t even alive to experience. From when my mom and dad were little, to when my 2 oldest siblings came home from school saying they were told to add “Jesus is the light of the world” at the end of the supper prayer. My father then translated that into...Jesus was the Son, and I’m called Sonny, so we should say...”Sonny is the light of the world.” Rick said this after the prayer on Mother’s Day last week and I had no idea what he was talking about, which made me laugh even harder.

With every envelope I waited, for a letter from my aunt Rose. My dad’s closest sister. She died recently. But I knew she was there with us, she was always with my dad on all his special occasions or to play golf or to talk when one of them had a rough chemo treatment knowing the other could relate or just to laugh over Sunday brunch. I thought perhaps she’s written a letter before she left us, but if she did, my sister would know it was too much for my father to handle, for any of us. I’m sure it would have brought her comfort, but been difficult too. I think thinks that’s why I haven’t written in a while. Too much to say. No answers, just questions. Just ridiculous questions and anger and silence and sadness and more questions. I’ve written a lot in my head.

It was so nice to see my family together laughing, joking and remembering...during a truly happy celebration – not just the remembering and laughing you do while you’re sad to mask to the heartache and postpone getting back to reality. This was the first time in my life I questioned when I would see happiness return to my parents. How much can people really take before it takes its toll?

Anyway, I digress.....When it came time for gifts, most of us gave money toward a “trip.” Trisha and I had to borrow $20 from mom on the way to the restaurant to complete our gift because we didn’t have enough cash....oops....we each thought the other went to the ATM...we said she’d be getting it right back....and she did in her gift! (I did actually pay her back Sunday) They instead used it to buy a 47” flat screen plasma TV which is being delivered tomorrow....sweet. My uncle, who we saw on Sunday said – oh sure 47”....we just bought a 40”....teasing that my dad was still trying to one up his kid brother. I love seeing my parents with their brothers and sisters now that all their kids are grown and they really have rekindled their relationships....uncles playing golf, aunts being ladies that lunch. I aspire to be a lady that lunches....or plays golf.

Shelly gave my parent’s the same embroidered picture she had given my grandparents on their 50th wedding anniversary. She just changed the dates. Only Shelly would keep something in her closet for 20 years so she could pass it on again. Rick made a picture of the number 50 out of 50 gold dollars, with a picture of mom and dad’s wedding inside. Then he pulls out this Dean Martin singing doll (we thought it was my old Charlie Macarthy ventriloquist doll at first). Dean starts serenading my parents and we all start singing along...That’s Amore! Dean Martin was mom’s favorite singer and my dad first caught her eye because he had the slick Dean Martin/Elvis look. It was great to see this sentimental-ish side of Rick. I’m sort of jealous Rick and Shelly have had so many more years with mom and dad...so much fun! The singing doll was borrowed from a local restaurant – Aldos – that’s been around since we were kids. (the best cannelloni and salad if you’re in the area) It always sits at the bar, but Aldo’s wife took the batteries out years ago to keep Dean-O from singing. He was a little slow on the dancing, but he flailed his cigarette around and sang beautifully. Once he stopped Nathan said – hey, turn that action figure back on. Dean Martin was in some westerns, but I’m sure that was the first time he was ever referred to as an action figure.

We took lots of family photos and enjoyed wonderful Schulte’s cake (the best ever on the planet)....Chad prefers the inside piece, which is probably why he is grumpy sometimes....lack of icing. Rick, Trisha and I went straight for the corners....yummmmm. I drove home – mom and dad sat in the back seat and were acting like kids again....none of the icky stuff you don’t want to see you’re parents doing....just all of the laughing that you’ll never grow tired of.