A year after my grandpa died we took a family vacation (minus my brother) out to California so that grandma could see the Queen Mary. The trip was a lot of fun despite the daily sunrise wake ups, the impending doom of dad speeding around the curves of Route 1 at Big Sur, and an animatronic shark attack at Universal Studios. Chrissy was thrilled to pose with her "date" (as it is described on the back of the photo below) and also got the opportunity to wear an astronaut suit and experience zero gravity.
Soon after, she graduated from college and moved away. Permanently. Despite our physical separation, we remained close. My memories from this time period range from the goofy (Chrissy philosophizing about the deep lyrics to "Pump up the Volume" on the way home from religion class) to the educational (everything I ever needed and not so much wanted to know about sex, drugs, and rock and roll), to the profound (she took me to my first and only Grateful Dead concert where I learned many, many, MANY interesting things about human nature).
We share a common bond of,"What ridiculous behavior can we exhibit that will drive mom crazy?" For example: on one road trip we made up a silly rhyming poem and repeated it over and over until mom begged us to stop. Read it here. Another time we wrote a parody to Lionel Richie's "Hello" called "Jello" and sang it at the top of our lungs. Success was reached when mom said, "GIRLS. ENOUGH." And I am proud to say we haven't changed much since then. Although, karma caught up to me - my children are happy to provide payback with their endless silliness. I guess what goes around comes around.
Soon after, she graduated from college and moved away. Permanently. Despite our physical separation, we remained close. My memories from this time period range from the goofy (Chrissy philosophizing about the deep lyrics to "Pump up the Volume" on the way home from religion class) to the educational (everything I ever needed and not so much wanted to know about sex, drugs, and rock and roll), to the profound (she took me to my first and only Grateful Dead concert where I learned many, many, MANY interesting things about human nature).
Despite being only 15 and legally unable to serve as a witness, my sister chose me to be her maid of honor. I was matched with Larry, the three fingered man (if I recall correctly, he lost two of his digits in a saw accident) who tried to hit on me in the limo. I was thrilled to become an aunt five years later, even if it meant listening to my sister scream through endless hours of labor before my nephew finally made his entrance. But the big arrival was not until Chrissy's fourth decade, so you'll have to check back tomorrow for Mitch.
Enjoy the pics. Appreciate the glorious 80's hair.
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