My Cousin Bonnie

Spoiler alert:  there are no photos in this blog - just lots of words.  I'm from a generation where we didn't record every moment of our life and photo every morsel of food that found it's way into our digestive tract.  But the memories are just as vivid in my technicolor memories of Bonnie.

It's January 1st, which always promises the clean slate of a brand new year and simultaneously overwhelms me with melancholy as this is the day one of the most influential people of my childhood died in 1986.  Her memory is with me in everything I do today.

I started my life living with Bonnie as our families shared space in my Grandmother's home. She was about ten years older than me and I must have seemed like a living doll to her. She had two brothers, one older and one younger, and finally here was a pseudo-sister for her to play with.

She was always by my side and shaped so much of who I am today.  One of my earliest memories is that of sitting on the couch with her and reading. She was a good teacher and of course I was an exceptional student.  I believe I am the voracious reader that I am today due to her diligence in sharing books with me.  I seem to consume about a book a week, sometimes more and can't seem to stop...nor would I want to.  This is why there's no twelve step program for reading addictions.

Whenever she had her girlfriends over to dance ...I was there. Actually, I'm not sure she had any choice as she was probably my main babysitter. But I never felt like the little tag-along sister nobody wanted.  I was always brought into the fun, giggling and dancing with the big girls.  We'd shove all the furniture out of the way to make way for our parties, along with whispered reminders that "this never happened,OK?".  It was fun being in on the secret parties.  Hmm, did my sneakiness come from her as well?

She was always playing music and dancing around.  I'm willing to bet my passion for music was grounded in these early years as well.  Even though I could never quite share the level of passion she had for Elvis. Well, to be fair...nobody could. Her room was covered with album covers and pictures of the King, his music playing constantly on her record player. We sang along with all the records and perhaps this is also where my love of singing started.

I was a hopeless tomboy and she was a girly girl.  She did her best to tame me but it never quite took.  

Movies are where I feel her presence the strongest.  We went to the movies ALL the time and never sat through just one showing. She taught me the fine art of hiding until the next show started and watching it again. We definitely got our money's worth.  I often go to the movies alone as my husband and I have different tastes.  This has astonished some of my friends, who (for whatever reason) cannot bring themselves to attend a show alone.  It's not like walking into a bar by yourself and you don't have to share your popcorn. What's not to love?  Besides, when I sit down to watch the movie the seat next to me might appear empty but I'm never alone at the movie. Bonnie's right there with me.  When I leave after one viewing I can always picture saying goodbye to Bonnie who is staying to see it one more time.

Holiday gatherings were made fun by Bonnie. We had a ritual of waiting for the other to butter their roll and then stealing it. Pretty silly, but great fun.  And since this was also the generation where the females did the clean up and dishes while the men gather around the TV to watch football...oh wait, that hasn't changed.  

Part of the clean up task was a competition to see who could pick just the right sized container to store the leftovers. I generally won that round.

We made fun out of doing the dishes together. If the washer (her) didn't quite get it right, the dryer (me) tossed it unceremoniously back into the dishwater with a splash and pronouncing "REJECT!"  Her response was a muffled growl that "nothing a good dryer couldn't handle".   And we'd giggle.  We'd always giggle. 

When we both got older and formed our separate lives she always went out of the way to keep in touch.  When my first marriage failed and I returned home to my parents it prompted me to remember why I left home to get married in the first place.  Where else could I go to live?  Of course...with Bonnie.  She had divorced also and had two little boys so it was my turn to be the babysitter. So my son and I moved into her trailer in Sparta.

I learned many valuable lessons during this time of  my young adulthood.  Like a clove of garlic is just one of the little pieces of the bulb, not the entire bulb. Don't even ask how that meal tasted.  

And of course we got babysitters for our boys and went out once a week to listen to music and dance.  I remember one night as we hurried out in the mist and rain and she backed her GTO into the trashcan, sending it flying and scattering trash all over the ground. She sized up the weather and our clothes and smiled saying "we'll get that later".  We were paying a sitter after all and had places to go!

After we'd get home and decide on having a snack I learned how to open the potato chips without making a sound and easing the top off the bottle of 7-up.  It was amazing how the slightest sound would evoke a little voice from the bedroom asking "are those chips?"

I recall one night meeting her after work to go to a nightclub and learning the fine art of changing your clothes in a parking lot. Really, there was no end to her antics. If there was fun to be had nothing was going to get in her way.  Everything she did was with gusto and full enthusiasm. 

We shared everything in those days.  If she wasn't thrilled with the date she brought home, she'd give him to me.  This was a heady time for me as I was still very young and had been through a disastrous marriage and divorce by the time I was twenty. I had more heart to heart talks with her about men, sex and love than anyone.  She was like a mother/sister to me my entire life.  

Together we discovered Chinese food and learned that not all vegetables came from a can, were cooked to mush and had milk added to them (our mothers method).  We couldn't get enough of this stuff!  We'd try to get her daughter, Shayna, to eat some but she always opted for the "Chinese" hamburger.  

The names of the food were so fun.  We'd giggle over the poo-poo platter but never ordered it. But the one called "the happy family"?  We'd order that and proclaim it was the only way we'd ever have one.  Our family of origin became dysfunctional after our Grandmother died.  It left our mothers to their own devices, which seemed to be a shared love of drinking and smoking.  Holiday gatherings were never the same after Grandma left us.  When things turned ugly we'd head out to a movie or go bowling. This is why I always associate the holidays with movies.  I was never sure if all those great movies they hold to come out over the holidays were for those Norman Rockwell kind of families for families like ours.

Her daughter, Shayna, was the light of her life.  By this time Bonnie lived in Spooner WI and I would visit her up there to go to the rodeo.  The rodeos were a lot like the movies to her.  You didn't attend just one.  You went to all of them.  And you had to sing "the Rodeo song" during the stay.  Click on the link to enjoy this little ditty...unless you're offended by the F-word...then you might want to skip it.

The first time I went up for the rodeo little Shayna asked me if I liked sloppy joes and brownies.  I replied that I loved those two food groups.  She just smiled and said "well, that's good then".  She had developed her dry sense of humor from her father. She knew that this was all that was served over Rodeo Weekend.  Breakfast. Lunch. Supper.  

Bonnie showed me the proper way to experience the rodeo. She always knew how to fully take in an event. We went back to the holding pens to really appreciate the size of those Brahma bulls.  We'd take in the emergency areas for the cowboys after a bad spill and how many ambulances were on hand.  There's nothing like a backstage view to alter your experience.

Rodeo weekend is the weekend after the Fourth of July. It's hot. We attended rodeo performances until the sun peeled our skin off.   In the evenings (after the last performance) we'd go to Tony's for pizza and ogle the cowboys in their tight jeans and boots. 

I took my daughter and granddaughter to the Spooner rodeo a few years back so they could understand what a PRCA (Professional Rodeo Cowboys Association) rodeo was.  This is where contestants come from all over the nation to compete for serious prize money.  They had taken me to a local "rodeo" and I knew I had to educate them for their own sake.  Shayna joined us on this historical event, but we just didn't sing the Rodeo Song on this outing. Or serve sloppy joes and brownies.  Oh wait...I think Shayna may have brought brownies to the motel.  

We're going again this year and I'm bringing my daughter, Stephanie, my newly adopted daughter Christy and our friend KariLyn.  But only to the evening performance and I've learned where the best seats are by now. I'm trying to fulfill the legacy of Bonnie by introducing my friends to her favorite things.

So. This is why January 1st is always so bittersweet for me.  It's a new beginning and overshadowed by so many memories.  I miss her so much but know she is in me and will always be a part of who I am.

Long Live the Queen of Memories