First question, did we legally change our names to Brownrabbit? You’re damn right we did. I was Brown and she was Babbit, so we meshed the two and came up with Brownrabbit. Simple. Fun. Iconic. Different. New.

These last two weeks have been such a journey. I laid in bed last night thinking of all the things I wanted to write about. Instead of prewriting this post in me head, I just starting thanking god for all the things that were popping into my head. I can write a gratitude list, let me tell you. One thing leads to another and it turns into a meditation that eases my mind and puts right to sleep.

Speaking of sleep, “it’s a great day to wake up instead of coming to.” This was a quote said at the beginning or end of a share by my dear friend, Gloria, who passed away I guess a couple years ago at this point. Two days ago was her wife’s birthday. Her wife, Belinda, a very dear friend of mine since my first days in recovery, about 2009, passed away this year as well. I happened to still have a rose from her funeral hanging on my dashboard while we were on our minimoon. I released her into the fire. Her death comes in waves when I wish to reach out to her, or, more often these days, think about her kids. Belinda and I had a short talk and I assured her that I and her children were fine. We would be okay and she should just enjoy being a free soul.

Back to my gratitude meditation, let’s start with the fact that I am grateful that I have the right to marry my love. Only since June 26th, 2015, has same sex been federally recognized in the United States. Thanks, Obama. Since I was a baby gay, coming out at 15 or 16 years old, I had been told that gay marriage would not be legalized in my lifetime. Now look at your full grown gay, divorced and remarried! I imagine explaining this to my kiddo when she’s older, telling her that when she was born on March 13, 2015, it was not legal for her mother and I to marry. Since 2 moms is all she has ever known but will be inundated with a heteronormative world, I can just imagine her simply stating how stupid it would have been if her moms weren’t allowed to marry like everyone else on the planet, or something of the like.

I digress because we divorced like so many couples; grateful for that opportunity as well. I would have died in that marriage. And now, 5 years later, give or take, I am one week Mrs Brownrabbit.

But wait, let’s go back one more week. Two weeks ago today on April 16th at 12:25 pm, Della Fern Wachs Ranker passed away at 93 1/2 years. Born November 29th, 1929, this woman saw some things. Before she was 10 years old, the Dust Bowl struck Kansas and then WWII broke out. She would have gone through the Great Depression as well. She grew up on a farm outside of Ellsworth, KS. I wish I knew more about her childhood, but she never complained about it. Hard work. Well into retirement, coffee break was at 10, dinner at noon, coffee break at 3, and supper at 530. Farm time. My dad was born in 1948 as the eldest of 3 boys and he graduated KU in 1970. That puts my grandma at 19 when he was born, in her 20’s in the 50’s, 30’s in the 60’s, and 40’s in the 70’s. By the time I was born in 1979, she and my grandfather were retired, folks. Boom. Done working. At 50ish.

Grandma was second of 5 kids. She still has 3 living siblings! I wonder if she was ever that ornery second born kid. I was also second of 5. I don’t think she ever graduated from high school. Her obituary says different so I could be wrong. I think she started working at the grocery store to help out the family as early as like 13 years old. I think her family had moved into town at that point because she told me that she was scared to walk home from the grocery store at night. I don’t know what her mother or father did after the farm or if they just moved into town but kept the farm. Not sure. I should reach out to my Aunt Nancy and Alice, grandma’s sisters, to get some stories.

Her obit says she kept the books for several different organizations. She was an excellent record keeper in so many ways. She was highly organized from scrap books, to checkbooks, to holidays, letter writing, etc. As I was writing this, another wave of my losses in addiction hit me because I am certain that I lost many of her letters. Grandma and I wrote avidly to each other and I found out later that she did the same with her siblings and who knows who else? I was one of few who could read her handwriting with ease. She was well spoken and wrote well.

I’m sure I knew at some point where her and my grandpa met, maybe a town dance? I think it was after WWII. My grandpa’s mom signed a release for him when he was 16 or 17, to join the navy so he could go into the branch he wanted to go into before getting drafted. So I think he went at 17 and was back at 21. He was born in 1924. It is my understanding that my grandfather worked 3 jobs and my grandmother was a battle axe stay at home mom. I think she ran a pretty tight ship.

She wasn’t my mom though, she was my grandma. She is the one who gave me my first nickname, Holly Dolly. I don’t remember much about my early childhood. We went to Ellsworth for holidays or they would come to Manhattan. They were often at grandparent’s day at school and around for plenty of soccer and tee ball games. They were at First communion, confirmation, and graduation.

Grandma’s house was spotless but there was no running in the house because you would “stir up the dirt.” There was significant dirt outside though. My cousin, Sommer, is my age and we grew up when I was in Ellsworth, together. We played in very small warm puddles on the patio that was laid by my grandpa. We made mud pies in the back shed. We made homemade ice cream that was hand cranked and would not freeze, hand to heart, unless one of us sat on it to hold it down for the cranker. Coffee break was at 10 and 3, cookies and milk for the kids. Dinner was at noon. My aunts and uncles would come by for dinner or supper when I was in town.

During the summers I would get to spend a week alone at grandma’s. It was a welcome vacation with cable TV and my choice of dinners. I first fell in love with shells and cheese at grandma’s because we had the Mac and Cheese with the powder at home and she bought the good stuff with the cheese that you squeezed from the package. We played a ton of games, many of which no longer exist like Cooties and Snoopy. There was a significant amount of Play-Doe. Grandma had a “playroom” in the basement. Imagine! A whole room just for play!

Grandma taught me how to play rummy. My family has a strange version that I have never seen elsewhere. It consists of 7 hands, each a different requirement. I learned how to play sitting on my grandma’s lap. Dominoes was another family game. I remember playing cards and opening Christmas presents with my great-grandpa, grandma’s dad. He was very quiet. He lived across the alley from grandma and grandpa and did his own thing well into his 90’s. He had a wood shop in his garage and I still have several pieces he made. They are mostly hideous but grandma displayed them about her house with pride.

They had a massive garden in great grandpa’s yard for a long time and we ate fresh cucumbers in vinegar or half and half, fresh tomatoes with sugar, watermelon, cantaloupe, carrots etc. I wish I had spent more time out there with grandpa, but I was either with Sommer or grandma, always. As they got older, the garden became too much to take care of, great grandpa died, and they sold the house. Great grandpa’s wood shop caved in on itself and sits there to this day. The back shed, where mud pies were made, was rebuilt and we grew up. The raceway for tricycles was replaced with individual stones, but the lawn remained spotless. My grandpa’s signature canas were no longer able to be cared for and were replaced with grandma’s peonies for a time, but then those were too much as well.

Grandpa developed Alzheimer’s and once grandma couldn’t care for him, he went to the retirement home in Lyons. He died about 5 years ago in 2017. Grandma stayed in the house till my folks retired to Ellsworth about 3 years ago. She went to live with them until they were unable to care for her. She spent her last couple years in the retirement home that she took us to to visit her mother as kids. She was still quite vibrant until her death. We played cards every time we would go see her. She wasn’t much for conversation. She “didn’t know anything.” So we would tell her what we had been up to lately and then settle in for a game of cards. I would have sat there in silence doing nothing though. Oh how I adored that woman.

Her second to last day on this earth was incredibly moving. I will write about it another time. And more as it comes up. I love you forever with my whole heart, Della Fern. Ang and I named our kayaks Fern and Irma after a different old lady couple in her family, but mine doubles as a guide of the greatest love I have ever known, you, grandma.

Until next time, Holly Dolly.