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Most of our family lives here in Casper, so traveling over the holidays was never something we did very much. Living near family is something I have always loved and not having to travel over the holidays is something I will never regret. There was one certain Christmas that was…unusual, however. That Christmas week began with a storm and some very cold weather.
Our Christmas traditions meant going to my in-laws house on Christmas eve, since they opened presents on Christmas eve, and my family opened presents on Christmas day. That, along with our house first thing in the morning, made for a busy day with lots of stops…and it looked like the weather might be planning to severely hamper that. My in-laws lived out in the country on a dirt road that tended to become a lake after a rain storm, and get drifted if the snow was deep enough, or the wind blew much.
Such was that Christmas in the early 1980’s and we were going to have to figure out what to do about it, because our car was not going to make it down that dirt road that was drifted in. So, that Christmas was going to be one for breaking with some of our traditions. We packed up the girls, their gifts from under our tree, and the food we would bring to my in-laws house, along with our pajamas, because we would be spending the night at their house.
We went as far as we could, which was where the blacktop ended, and they met us with their 4 wheel drive Bronco. We couldn’t make it in on the road, so we would be going cross country. We got in with no problems, and for once we opened all of our Christmas 
gifts on Christmas eve, like my in-laws do. We had a wonderful and cozy evening at their house, and then the next morning my father-in-law took us back to our car so we could get back to town for Christmas morning at my parents house.
The roads into town were not the best, in fact, we thought for a while that we might be snowed in at my in-laws house, but the snow had let up over night, and we made it in. It was an unusual Christmas for us, but it turned out well. I guess that when you persevere, you can make a great Christmas, even if it means a break from tradition, and even if a Christmas storm threatens to ruin all your plans.
My great grandmother lived next door to my grandparents for all the years I knew her. She was my mother’s dad’s mother, and all of us kids loved her very much. Whenever we were at my grandparent’s house, we would always go over to Little Great Grandma’s house. She would always have cookies for us to eat, and she would sit with us at the table and talk a little. We didn’t go over often, because there was always something going on at my grandparents house…always lots of kids there to play with.
Whenever we got to go over, I loved seeing Little Great Grandma. I don’t know who started calling her that, but I don’t remember ever calling her anything else. When I think about my own grandchildren and all the nicknames they have come up with for me though, my guess is that one of the great grandsons got taller than her, and decided that she was now Little Great Grandma. My grandsons, who are all taller than I am now, are always calling me Little Grandma, so it stands to reason that, since my great grandmother wasn’t a tall woman, she would eventually be given that name.
I used to think it was unique to this generation or my family, since my sister’s grandchildren have those nicknames for her too, but when I got to thinking about my great grandmother, and the nickname we always called her, I think it is something that crosses the generational lines. I suppose my great grandmother would have cringed at some of my nicknames, but as times change, so do the nicknames.
I also think it is a form of endearment. Kids call ’em as they see ’em. My grandchildren used to call me the fingernail grandma (I believe Christopher thought of that one) when they were little and trying to figure out a way to distinguish which grandma they were talking about. I do love to paint my nails and they are always long, so I guess it stands to reason. As the years have gone by, I have been Gma, G (came from Josh, it was easier), Gram, Gramama (definitely from my granddaughter, 
Shai), G-pickle (Caalab, my joker, came up with that one), as well as several others that didn’t have a very long life, and so don’t come quickly to mind.
Endearing nicknames are only given to those we love, and since I know my grandchildren love me very much, I can look at the silly nicknames I have acquired over the years, and know that funny as they are…they are my own, given to me by grandchildren who love me with all their heart, and they show me that every day. I love each and every nickname, almost as much as I love each and every grandchild.
This past week, my family reconnected with my Aunt Ruth’s family. We had lost touch with them over the years, but a chance connection on Ancestry.com and one phone call were all it took to melt away the years, and now we are back in touch with them again. We have friended each other on Facebook, and looked over the pictures each of us has. I have seen the faces of children who look so much like their parents that it’s like they were looking in a mirror. That got me to thinking back on something I have know about myself almost all my life.
I too, look a lot like someone else in my family…my dad’s sister, my Aunt Ruth. I am built like her and my facial features are a lot like hers. Aunt Ruth and her family used to live here when I was a kid, and we got to see a lot of her and her family. She was a slender, tiny woman with delicate features, and dark wavy hair. But, the thing that is the easiest for me to remember, is her laugh…because it is mine. Often when I laugh, I sound so much like her that it brings her face to mind. It is one way to never forget your aunt, who passed away in 1992. She had a beautiful laugh. She could light up a room with it, and I guess that is why it is always with a mixture of sadness and happiness that her face comes to mind when I laugh.
My Aunt Ruth’s family used to live here in Casper, and we got to see their family a lot. My cousins, my sisters, and I got to see a lot of each other. Oh, the times we had. We would play 
out in the front yard for hours, or out in the yard at their house. It was great. Our lives were intertwined…the closeness of families…the love.
It’s always sad when families are separated by time and miles, and then by the passing of loved ones. I can only rejoice in the reconnection that has now taken place, and know the those who have gone before us would be very happy and proud. And I think of Aunt Ruth, and know that in Heaven she laughs often, so I will hear that laugh from her and not just from me, and since my dad and her son, Larry are both there too, along with parents and grandparents, I know they have had a great reunion too.
