Some weekends, my work with "V" initially seems less exciting than others. Of course, the definition of exciting is merely a matter of opinion.
This past weekend, for example, was not filled with anything overtly dramatic, at least when you compare it to the time spent at the Rehabilitation Center, or the drama of the recent furnace replacement, or even decorating, albeit somewhat conservatively, for the holiday season.
It has been a very cold and snowy winter thus far in the North East, and a lot of this unpleasantness has occurred during my scheduled shifts with "V".
Luckily, she and I do not have to go out anywhere during our time together, and "V" is generally content to read her large-print books (now back in full force) or play Solitaire on her I-Pad (when we remember to charge it correctly).
For my part, I have busied myself with vacuuming, dusting the corners of the ceilings, folding laundry, preparing dinner (including cooking and clean-up), trekking through the snow to get the mail, trekking through the snow to take out the garbage and recyclables (thankfully, a much shorter trek), and just making sure that "V" is safe, sound, and as comfortable as possible.
These tasks are all fine with me. I enjoy helping "V" and am happy to see her happy, which usually occurs when it is time to enjoy one of our three daily meals in the dining room, which, thanks to the weather, has been rather gray and gloomy, but is still the brightest spot in the house.
While eating, we continue to engage in delightful conversation, sometimes about things we did as children, or more often, about things we did for our children. In particular, I have taken to stopping at the bait and taxidermy shop several miles from "V"s home on Sunday mornings after my shift ends. The owner knows me now. I am the woman who buys what's left of the worm stock for anyone who is crazy enough to go fishing in the polar vortex. One of these crazy characters happens to be my teenage son, an avid fishing fan who has just discovered the joys (?) of ice fishing.
"V" can generally top my stories, having many more years of experience in the mothering business. One of my favorites is the time her two teenage sons went hunting with their father, a frequent activity for the boys. The problem was that the family dog, a hunter at heart, had to stay behind because it had an inherent tendency of scaring all of the targets away. Apparently, the dog was quite large, and extremely disappointed that it could not go hunting with the boys. So "V", the loving wife and mother, lay in bed with the hyperactive canine all day long, holding it down and commiserating in its misery.
Getting back to this past weekend with "V", I unveiled a special surprise for her after our Friday night meal. Since we are both Italian in heritage, she having grown up in the same general New York City neighborhood as my Grandmother, I knew in advance that this particular surprise would resonate sweetly with her. Very sweetly, in fact.
My Mother's birthday had been the day before my shift, and I had gone down to her house to celebrate with my sister, niece, nephew and son. Actually, my nephew's birthday was the day before my Mother's, so it was a double celebration. And, not surprisingly, the event warranted two cakes!
My nephew, turning seventeen, wanted an ice cream cake, which was always a big hit with the kids. I must confess that we adults were happy to indulge as well, despite the arctic temperatures outside. There's nothing like the crunchy chocolate layers of a well-made vanilla ice cream cake, surrounded by sumptuous sugary decorations of all shapes and sizes.
My sister, remembering that my late Italian Grandmother's favorite cake was a beautifully crafted, bakery-fresh Napoleon, had gotten the exact same kind for my Mother. But let's face it... The exquisite creation wasn't just for my mother... It was for my sister and I to relish as well!
And relish it we did. It's amazing how three fairly average size women (I refuse to describe us in any other manner!) can demolish a fairly average size cake. We attacked that Napoleon with great vigor, leaving about a third of it remaining when we were through. (Okay. I confess. We helped the kids attack the ice cream cake, too!). My Sister, not wanting to have too many leftover cakes in her already packed refrigerator, asked if I wanted to take some home.
Great minds think alike, and since my Mother and Sister are well aware of my work with "V" on the weekends, the three of us immediately came up with the same brilliant idea: Why not bring the rest of the cake to her? Grandma loved it, and she was Italian. "V" would probably love it just as much, we all agreed.
Boy are we an astute family! As soon as I unveiled the Napoleon cake for "V" after dinner on Friday night, her eyes lit up brightly, and a new energy seemed to overtake her tired body. I'm not sure she even knew what it was at first glance. Just that it was a confectionary concoction of the most mouth-watering form!
Wisely, I made sure that I cut the cake so that there would be a second serving the following evening. After all, the weekend could seem exceedingly long, especially in the gloomy weather, and we needed something to look forward to on Saturday night other than the two BBC shows that had become a regular part of our routine.
"V" absolutely loved the cake! I wasn't really surprised. I told her that it was my Grandmother's favorite, thus sparking an enjoyable conversation about growing up in the Bronx during the 1920's. My... how different things were back then. Part of me longed for the simplicity that "V" described when talking about her childhood.
Our journey to the 1920's would end up continuing throughout the rest of the evening as we tuned into Turner Movie Classics.
Each month, TMC has a theme for the Friday night feature. Last month, it was costume design, and "V" and I were treated to films spanning five decades, and including the likes of Marlene Deitrich, Doris Day, and Barbra Streisand. The month before was devoted to screwball comedies, and I have to say that no matter how many times I've watched Clark Gable and Claudette Colbert in "It Happened One Night," it never grows old. Especially the hitchhiking scene. An absolute classic! If you haven't seen it, trust me... it's worth the price of admission. The month before that was October, so given the Halloween holiday, the films were all of a distinctly creepy nature.
But it's a new year, a new month, and a new movie theme on Friday nights. When I first heard the topic, I must admit that I cringed a little. I'm an English Major for crying out loud! How could I possibly relate to the theme of "Science in the Movies" presented by a physicist that I'd never even heard of?
I quickly re-learned the age-old lesson of not judging a book (or movie theme) by it's cover. Last week, "V" and I were completely captivated by the story of Madame Curie. "V" mentioned the movie over and over again throughout the weekend, and we were both pleasantly surprised at how mesmerizing it was, probably because it was about a woman accomplishing something truly great during a time when academia and scientific invention were almost entirely dominated by men!
Anyway... I digress with my personal opinion. My sincerest apology.
Back to this week's Friday night feature, which come to think of it, did not feature any women... just one in the tiniest (but very significant) supporting role.
The film was "The Spirit of Saint Louis" starring James Stewart in the role of a young Charles Lindbergh, flying fearlessly across the Atlantic in 1927, the first person ever accomplish this feat.
As the physicist explained before the 1957 film started, critics and audiences were not completely sold on the role of the forty-something year old Stewart starring as a mid-twenty-something Lindbergh. But as an actual flyer in a tall, lanky body, not to mention one of the most genuine fellows in Hollywood at the time, Jimmy was able to pull it off just dandy, at least according to "V" and I. He was like Tom Hanks is to movies today. A boyish charm that, at whatever age, is just gosh-darned likeable!
The movie was quite long, but "V" and I stuck it out, savoring every minute of it. I think I may have developed whiplash in my neck because of the number of times I whirled around in "V"s direction, eagerly inquiring, "Do you remember that?"
She remembered. All of it. And although only nine years old at the time, she clearly recalled how all of the children in her Bronx neighborhood, like millions of others worldwide, were jumping up and down in the streets shouting, "Lindy made it! Lucky Lindy made it!" after the flyer had landed safely in France. 
I started to think about what I would remember from 1972, the year that I was nine years old. What historical events occurred that made me and the other children in my neighborhood jump up and down in the street?
Richard Nixon's re-election? Hardly!!! The War in Vietnam continues, complete with horrific images of the ongoing carnage on the nightly news? Highly unlikely. The Munich Massacre during the summer Olympics? A true tragedy witnessed by the entire world.
Hmm... There must be something worth celebrating that occurred in 1972. An event that would have people cheering in the streets. (I would cite the ending of the draft, but since it's related to a war that had not ended, I'm a bit reluctant.)
I have it! Something miraculous! And despite the fact that none of my friends had access to it yet, the game "Pong" officially introduced the video game era! Now there's something to cheer about! Or is it?
Nevertheless, there was nothing nearing the magnitude of Charles Lindbergh's accomplishment in 1927, when "V" was nine years old. Not even close. Aviation was changed forever, becoming a viable means of transportation for everyone, rather than just a foolish lark for insane inventors.
"V" beamed as she talked about the memories from her childhood, and I was in awe at how much detail she could remember. Recollections of a happier, more carefree time in history, where children could be just that... children... seeing the world through a lens of fascination and innocence... A sense of longing filled the room for both of us as we chatted about the events of her youth.
Going back to the definition of exciting as being merely a matter of opinion, I would have to say that this past weekend with "V" was most exciting, especially when you factor in the sumptuous Napoleon cake and "The Spirit of Saint Louis"!
I can only wonder what next weekend will hold in store for us...
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Move over Lana and Rosalind... Make way for Jimmy!
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