First, the boy with his toys. Liam sleeping happily, and surrounded by all manner of toys, pictures taken by yours truly. Note the cows lying across his tummy:
They're pretty cool. I believe they're made by a company called Playgro (based in Australia). If not, they're similar to products which Playgro makes. There's a retractable cord covered in soft material between the big and the little cow (sure, the little cow could be a calf if you really want it to be), something simliar to a bungee cord, but it stays recoiled until you pull it. After you pull them apart and release, the cord makes a cool little 'whirring' sound as it recoils. (Liam and Morgan both have little bugs - which do basically the same thing - hanging from a ring on the arches on their rockers as well. You can see Liam's in the foreground to the left.)
Well, apparently Liam (he and Morgan are 8 months old today!) pulled on the wrong two parts, and he was left essentially with only one and a half cows. Janne took this comical picture (looks like it's directly from the police report) of the 'evidence':
Liam still has the toy, and he won't know the difference for probably quite a while, but it got me to thinking about something else entirely. Here comes the tangent...
Liam's Dad (that would be me) was notorious. He broke a large percentage of his toys when he was a little boy. It frustrated Liam's Dad's Dad, because he liked giving him toys, but the family didn't have a lot of money, so he couldn't keep replacing them whenever Liam's Dad broke one. So, he started buying him plastic models to build instead. Model airplanes, model cars, and model ships. Liam's Dad's Dad liked buying him model ships, because he was a Chief Petty Officer in the Canadian Navy, so he could bring Liam's Dad a model ship, and tell him the history of it. Liam's Dad used to build a lot of plastic models, which seemed to get him out of the habit of breaking toys, probably when he saw what went into putting them together. Liam's Dad's Dad was pretty smart, getting him into model building.
Liam's Dad remembers playing with his sister one day, and how she accidentally dropped one of his model ships, breaking off a mast and a couple of other pieces.
She cried.
He was startled by her reaction, and said, "Don't worry about it. I break them all the time. I'll just glue it back together."
But she could hardly be consoled. She was so upset that she had broken something that he had built. Liam's Dad never forgot the tenderness of that moment.
Looking back, and remembering that gentle moment, makes me long for a better relationship with my estranged sister. I even called the Minister of our church back home on Easter Sunday, and asked him to ask her to contact me if she wanted to, because I wanted to tell her about her niece and nephew. I had a great long chat with "Sandy", better known to our family as Reverend MacDonald, or as my sister called him "The Rev", and had hoped to also run into him when he traveled this way, but I guess he was too busy to call when he was up. He said he'd do his best to contact her, because he knew that she was attending services in her home community of Sackville, just outside Halifax, having seen her there only weeks before.
I've heard nothing back from my sister since that Easter conversation with "The Rev".
Her phone number is unlisted, so I can't contact her from here myself.
I'm a pretty different person from the one she remembers, if she even thinks of me, but being able to see pictures of her nephew in his preemie weeks, when he looked so much like my father, would help bridge our gap - and it wouldn't matter what kind of person I am or was, or what kind of person she is. It's not about either of us anymore; it's about knowing your family.
Janne has only ever spoken to my sister on the phone once, back in 1998. That was it. Both my parents were already long gone when Janne and I met. I could be a friggin' alien from another planet, for all she knows. She's met plenty of my friends from "back home", but no one related by blood. It makes me sad, and I know it bothers her that my sister and I don't communicate. It's difficult for her to comprehend, because she has such a great relationship with her sister, Lene. They are great friends, and love each other to pieces. Janne's family has been my family since I met her. Her mother (Hi Mormor!) and father let me stay at their home while I was trying to find a house here, and supported us from Day One in our relationship.
Lene? Nothing less than the one who introduced us. Lene and I were friends before I knew Janne. For those of you who visit both my page and Lene's, hopefully this will help explain why some of my posts on her page are as teasing/torturous as they are.
Janne used to mention quite often that I should be trying to contact my sister, but since I made the effort, and she has seen the lack of results, her pressing me to make contact has subsided.
I'm sure her family is disappointed, but I'm at a loss. I could ask one of my friends back home to make contact for me, but I think I know what's wrong. I think my sister is being kept from contacting me by the person who drove the wedge between us in the first place.
...and that's just the way it is.
Flora, if you ever read this, I hope you look through the site, and see some of the old pictures (there's one of you lookin' pretty cute with Dad and I) of our family that help make this story for our twins what it is: a chronicle of our lives for them to read when they're old enough, and help show them from whom and whence they came. You are an important part of that past. I wish you were at least a small part of the present.
