Santa Got Lost In Translation

Ahh family tradition…a few years ago my mother inadvertently began a new sort of Christmas family tradition by gifting my father a little gem of sorts. It was a t-shirt. And, harmless as it may seem, the long-term ramifications of this gift could not possibly been foreseen. As usual, along with Christmas activities came the annual sporting of the t-shirt…and thus, the memories and laughter begin…

My mother did not move to the states until adulthood, and although throughout my lifetime she has adapted to American culture and terminology, she sometimes gets a little lost in translation. Case in point, the Christmas family celebration of 2006.

Mom was effortlessly making her way through the piles of wrapped gifts when she announced the “super sale” she found while shopping a novelty store in New Orleans that season. She was like, “I found the cutest store full of coffee cups, t-shirts, and hand towels and EVERYTHING was on clearance! I bought a TON of them and now I can give them to everyone!” Dad unwrapped his new treasure and as he examined the bright red t-shirt, his eyes lit up and a roar of laughter welled from within. Mom was all, “Isn’t that the cutest little Santa?! I got such a good deal!” It was then that my father turned the shirt for my sisters and I to see. Immediately we were in tears laughing.

Mom: I know! Isn’t the Santa so funny?!
Me: I don’t think it’s the Santa that’s so funny, mom.
Annie: Oh My Gosh! Three Hos are better than One!! Bahahahahahahahaha
Mom: Yeah, like Ho Ho Ho! Because it’s Santa…get it?
Annie: Oh, we GET it! Do YOU get it.
Dad: (in tears now gasping for breath) THAT is a good shirt, Momma, Ima put it on RIGHT now.
Me: Dad, you can’t wear that today! Everyone will be over later for dinner!
Dad: It’s my new Christmas shirt your momma got me and Ima wear it.
Mom: Okay Annie, this one’s for you. Here, open it…
It’s been five Christmases since the revealing of this “dirty Santa”, and every year my dad pulls out the shirt and wears it. Sometimes visitors will mention how great it is and my mom will chime in with, “I have another one in the closet if you want it!” I still am not sure if anyone told her exactly what the shirt implied. Either way, it brings fun to the family Christmas every year.

There's a United Nations Meeting In My Belly

So my thankful week of gut busting is over and I find myself left with two things to show for it, leftover pie for breakfast and this little post to bring insight into the “melting pot” of a feast that my family calls Thanksgiving.  Okay…in all actuality, if it were my mom talking, she would put a slight Filipino accent spin on it and say Thanksgibbing.  My dad would abbreviate it with that southern drawl and call it Thanksgivin’.  Either way, you’ll be full when it’s over.

I was the host this year for the evening meal, so we DID actually have a traditional American meal, but my parents did not want to pass on the opportunity to host a few friends (and myself, of course) for their own “traditional” occasion during the lunch hour.   It was an eclectic mix of friends and food.  

It was a Melting Pot of Goodness...MmmmmMmmmm

So here you are…the menu at my parents Cajun Asian Turkey Day:

-Seafood Gumbo

-Cornbread Dressing
-Potato Salad
-Turkey (purposely not listed first because it is more obligatory than anything else)
-Spring Rolls
-Fruit and Vegtable fusion salad with sesame ginger dressing
-Miscellaneous assortment of store bought pies (whatever ones were on sale that day)
-left over Sinigang (Filipino broth-based soup with pork, radishes, green vegetables, etc.)

Was there gravy?  No.  Dad forgot and mom began her anti-gravy coalition when I was around 5 years old.  Mash potatoes?  No.  But there was a fresh pot of jasmine rice available.  Is that a giant bag of popcorn in the background?  Yes it is.  That’s what is known as the random “WOW factor” food item of the feast.  You never know what you’re gonna get.  And this year…we got popcorn.  You’re welcome.

Lobsters, Shared Toilets and Stairs – Oh My!

So my parents recently returned from a trip to New England, Portsmouth to be exact. I stopped by their house on Monday morning to get a free cup of coffee visit for a while. Up until that day, the only news I had received from their trip was my mom’s random calls from New Hampshire.

Me: Hello?

Mom: Abby! You HAVE to see this BEAUTIFUL car we rented! It’s a Crown Vic. We are riding in style girl! The scenery is so beautiful here! And the Crown Vic has leather, and lots of cup holders, GPS…

Me: So I take it you arrived safely?

Mom: And it has the climate control too! Such a nice car. Crown VIC.

Me: Okay, have fun mom! I gotta go! Love you!

Mom: Oh, Abby, I wanted to ask you something…ummm..what was it I was gonna ask you?

Me: I don't know, mom.

Dad: (barely audible in the background) Joji, get off that phone and tell me where the next turn is on that map there!

Mom: Charles! Just listen to the GPS

Dad: I can’t understand what that thing is talking about! Just look at the map!

disconnected

So anyway...back to the coffee conversation.  I asked my dad how his trip went and he began describing basically the parts that were important to him.

Dad: Your mom must’ve ate lobster for every single meal. She can EAT some lobster. She put them things away like they was crawfish. We was at this one restaurant where they had them 1.5 pound lobsters. An your momma tells the waiter, ‘Ooooooo the lobster is only $12?! I’ll have TWO!’ They looked at her like she had T-total lost her mind, ya know. Cuz normally people only eat one.

Me: Yeah I know. So besides eating lobster, what all did you guys do?

Dad: Well, your momma wanted to stay at one of them bread and breakfasts.

Me: I’m pretty sure it’s called a BED and breakfast, Dad.

Dad: Well, whatever it is, them things ain’t nice at all. First of all, they have these narrow, steep old staircases. An’ you have to haul ALL your luggage to the 3rd floor. But worse than that, they only got ONE BATHROOM for three guest rooms. You have to knock on the door to make sure nobody is in there. An’ lemme tell ya, you can FORGET going to the bathroom in your underwear in the middle of the night. You have to get fully dressed just to take a piss in the middle of the night! Now that’s just ridiculous! I wouldn’t stay in one uh them bread and breakfasts again for all the tea in china. They’re for suckers.

Me: Is that it?

Dad: Yeah, pretty much. We mostly just drove around lookin’ for more lobster.

Yeah, my parents will not be writing for travel book companies any time soon.

A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words...Some Should Be Left Unspoken

As far as random hobbies go, photography is my first love.  I try my best to use my camera to share the emotion of every moment.  Those who are photogs themselves are aware that sometimes this emotion is staged...and a LOT of the time, the beauty in the picture could NEVER SPEAK of the reality of the moment during the shoot.

The "behind the scenes" moments, are what keep me from venturing into photography as a full time career.  It's not all kittens and roses here people!  Let's take a look back at some of my more memorable shoots...well, memorable for ME at least...



Ahhh the love between a mother and her first born child...you would never know that while taking this photo, I backed my left foot straight into a soft cow patty.  The field we were in was littered with them.  It was a sea of landmines, and since my eyes were fixed through the lens, I didn't stand a chance.

I know what you're thinking...my parents, exiting the wedding ceremony...all aglow with happiness surrounding my youngest sisters nuptials...no, sorry...they were laughing because my dad forgot his suspenders and the trousers of his rented tux were falling to his knees as he walked in front of over a hundred guests.  You can see him holding them up.

Happy baby all smiles for his mommy??? NOT, immediately after the shutter captured this moment, the poor unstable infant fell over like newly harvested timber.  He hadn't quite mastered sitting up alone for more than a split second, and we all spent the next few moments regaining composure.

Oh how we all love to gaze upon the fresh and dewey blushing bride.  You couldn't even IMAGINE that right before this photo she was yelling for someone to get her some paper towels so she could wipe the sweat from her armpits.  Ya gotta love this girl! lol

"I don't WANT to be a princess!"  she screamed through her tears as countless bridesmaids attempted to get her on her feet and smiling for the camera.



So calm, peaceful, passionate...I was hardly feeling it at the time as I was standing in the middle of the street, dodging oncoming traffic.  I risked my LIFE for this shot people!  Well, not really, but I sure did annoy some Sunday drivers.

Children of the corn?  Well, that's not what I was going for in this photo, but I was tripping and falling over newly harvested corn cobs and broken stalks...not to mention the looming fear of critters of the corn.

Such a sweet family moment....immediately followed by me knocking over a couple of decorative items with my behind, bruising my shin on the corner of the chest of drawers and tripping over the dog on the way out of the room.

 

Thanks to all my friends and family for opening your cherished moments to me, so that I can grow as a photographer...and learn where not to step in a corn field or cow pasture.

Little Miss Magoo in her Myopia Utopia

So recently I purchased a new pair of glasses, something I hadn’t bothered with in the last ten years since I primarily wear contacts.  I was chatting with my sister, Alysson, later that day and I was telling her how blind I felt when I could not even see my own face in the mirror 3 feet away without corrective lenses.  Alysson quickly reminded me that she is far worse off than I in that department, being as her prescription is so strong that she is considered legally blind.  Then she reminded me of the “driver’s licensing exam dilemma” which I am more than happy to share with you today.

It was finally Alysson’s turn to get her ticket to freedom by becoming licensed to drive in the State of Louisiana.  Alysson was anxious about her driver’s licensing exam that day and my dad used the drive to the local department of motor vehicles as an opportunity to give her a few pointers.  Dad was like, “The best thing to do is take your eye exam WITHOUT your eye glasses.  That’s what I do.  That way you don’t get any restrictions put on your license.”  (Dad always gets a kick out of “stickin’ it to the man”)

Being the obedient child that she was, my sister who has the sight capacity of Mr. Magoo tucked her glasses away in her purse and walked to the counter for her sight test.  She gazed in the direction of the eye chart and quickly and confidently rattled off the letters.  “oh PEE oh PEE, pee pee oh PEE!” And the DMV lady was all, “Ma’am, its numbers not letters,” so Alysson was like, “Oh okay…zero…” and the DMV lady was all, “Um, no.”  So Alysson was like, “Okay let me just get out my glasses.”  FAIL

Sometimes we see what we WANT to see, not what’s really there.  It’s always better to recognize your weaknesses and take measures to overcome rather than hide them.  One of Alysson’s greatest attributes is her ability to recognize her strengths as well as her weaknesses, and use both to make a difference in the lives of others.

The Squirrely Bird Always Gets the Worm

I believe we all have that one screwy neighbor…you know the one I’m talking about.  The soccer mom  who does 5 point turns in her driveway to park her enormous SUV just right; that guy who paces his back yard after digging shallow graves spraying insect killer sporadically in the air and creating his own exterminator version of Swan Lake; the old woman who cuts the grass along her stepping stones with craft scissors while humming “Tinny Bubbles” by  Don Ho and who visits only to bring you bagged specimens of dog poo collected from her yard to inquire as to whether or not your dog made it.  Okay well maybe that last one was just an isolated case in which my aunt and uncle were living next door to a lunatic, but you get the point.

Well in my child “hood”, that one neighbor was a doozy.  A hoarder of sorts, she would chase her two rambunctious boys around the junkyard known as her lawn with frying pans or ping pong paddles threatening to beat some sense into them.  When you knocked on her door, she would answer by cracking it just enough to catch a glimpse of her hair net and lazy eye.  But all of that probably would have gone unnoticed amongst the neighborhood cast of characters if it hadn’t been for the fact that she would come and go in her dented, busted –up old truck at least 30 times a day.

Our living room had several windows facing the street, so day and night we would see her leave, then return, then leave, and return.  My dad would yell out, “Look kids!  There goes SQUIRRELY BIRD again!” And we would run into the room to giggle and make up stories about where she was headed THIS time.  I’m not sure where my dad got the nickname “squirrely bird”.  It could possibly be another of his famous coonass terms like fiddly-fartin’ or old as the hills or T-totally ugly.  But at age 10, I pictured the squirrely bird to be something like this.

"Git back here you spawn of the devil!"

And sometimes I would defend the squirrely bird by suggesting “normal” reasons for her comings and goings.  Things like, “She’s probably just getting groceries.” Or “Maybe she’s secretly a superhero who has to fight crime.”

Heeeere I come to save the DAAAAAY!

My dad would be like, “Nah, she’s just squirrely.”

My neighborhood now is peppered with squirrely birds.  But at least there aren’t any peepers.

Cooley Deal

So on a recent trip to Alaska with my father, I had an experience I’ll never forget. Well, I had TONS of experiences I’ll never forget, but THIS one in particular REALLY sticks with me. It was the realization of the vast span of the amazing life of my dad, Charles Murphy Miller. I mean think about it…he was born BEFORE the television was an appliance which could be purchased for the home! And now…here we are, in the twenty-first century…and he’s STILL so cutting edge! Okay, so maybe not “cutting edge”, but he sure does give it his best effort…


Picture it: A chilly summer day in Valdez, Alaska 2010, picturesque views from our RV campsite of an eagle’s nest, a glacier pool, and mountains as far as the eyes could see.

My dad and I were sitting in lounge chairs. I, with my laptop resting upon my legs as I uploaded that day’s photo journal of sites; Dad, sipping his diet coke in intervals between tales of mayhem back in the day with his good ole buddy, Daniel T. Cooley. And that is how we will refer to him for this story, because it is important that you understand that, although my father was commonly known as “Chuck” among his Marine friends, he refused to reference his dear friend without using his full name, middle initial separation included.

“Boy me an’ Daniel T. Cooley was in a MESS uh trouble then!” or “That Daniel T. Cooley just grabbed that son-of-a-gun and ran!”

Anyway, a brief period of silence induced by a man lost down memory lane was suddenly broken by his peaked curiosity. “You still savin’ pictures?” he asked. “No,” I replied, “just checking my Facebook for a sec.” Leaning over he made his next inquiry, “What does it do?” So I proceeded to explain to my father the revolution of social media and the convenience it provides when one wishes to stay in touch with friends and family far away. I showed him how you can upload photos, drop someone a message, follow their day to day goings on, etc. His response to the wealth of knowledge I had just shared? “Well, I wonder….what my friend Daniel T. Cooley is up to. I hadn’t seen ‘im for at least 35 years. He may even be dead by now. Abby…look on that there Spacebook and see if you find a Daniel T. Cooley.”

“It’s FACEbook, Dad,” I corrected, “but it may be worth a try.” It was only a matter of minutes before I was staring at a list of people…four to be exact, Dan Cooley, Daniel Cooley, Dan theMan Cooley, and Daniel T. Cooley. Of course none of them had a picture that was usable for identification purposes, but dad chimed in anyway, “It’s THAT one! I know it for sure! He ALWAYS goes by Daniel T. Cooley. Nuthin’ else. That’s him alright! Text ‘im and tell ‘im Chuck is trying to see if he is the same Daniel T. Cooley that skinned 3 rabbits with his bare hands on a bet in Okinawa, Japan after the bar brawl.” So I messaged this stranger, word for word as I was instructed. And wouldn’t you know it wasn’t 10 minutes before I had a notification that Daniel T. Cooley had replied to my message. His reply read “Abby...thanks...glad to know he is doing good...I don’t get on FB much…does Chuck have a Skype account? tell him setting up Skype is a lot easier than running a Jetcal on a J65 engine! So he should be able to figure it out! Anyway, I'll look forward to talking with him on Skype.”

Well obviously I don’t need to explain how I was instantly setting up a new Skype account for my dad, all the while explaining yet ANOTHER social media concept to him. And then…ring…ring…ring…”Huhllo?!”

Dad: “HELLo!”

DTC: “Huhllo?!”

Dad: “HELLo!”

DTC: “Huhllo, CHUCK?!”

Dad: “HELLo!”

Me: “Dad! Say SOMETHING else, PLEASE!”

All the while I’m making screen adjustments…sound was working well (as well as can be expected when the Skype session is between two battle-proven, hard-of-hearing men over 70), but no picture on his end yet.

DTC: “Huhllo CHUCK?!”

Dad: “Yeah! How you doin’ Daniel T.?”

And then the video stream from Okinawa, Japan fades in. A withered man with receding hairline white as snow and a crooked solid white beard is peering through some lenses at his long lost friend, my dad. It was Daniel T. Cooley…in the flesh. My dad looks at his friend a moment…then turns to me and says, “Man, he looks soooo OLD!”

OMG... “DAD!” I returned in a strained whisper, “He can HEAR you!”

Alas…I was wrong…the conversation went on without a hitch. Although the sound was working on Skype, good ole Daniel T. Cooley apparently needed a new hearing aid. All was well with THIS friend connection.

So very proud of my dad, for not letting the technology advancements scare him into submission.