Ninety One Years Later: The Card Underline

June 13, 1922.
The old house in the country of Hollister, NC.
Ethel Shearin delivers her first baby girl: Nina Louise Shearin.
Nina’s mom, dad, and doctor are present.

June 13, 2013.
The house in the Holiday Hill area of Jacksonville, FL.
Nina Louise Shearin Kidd celebrates her 91st birthday.
Nina’s three daughters, two son-in-laws, two of her grandchildren, and her great-grand-monkey are present.

Nina Kidd has lived a good life, seen a lot of changes—not the least of which was desegregation—and become affectionately known as G-mama to her four grandchildren and five great-children.

This grandchild is one of the ones present with her today.

In many ways, not having a job has been very challenging and recent weeks have been no exception. But in other ways, not having a job has been a blessing because I’ve gotten to spend extra time with the people I love—G-mama being no exception.

As G-mama opened her cards and presents today, I giggled when I saw that one of her friends had done the “card underline” on G-mama’s card. She had also filled the card with handwritten news, not caring that the cursive was shaky and lines of writing crooked.

You see, that’s what G-mama always does when she sends cards. She does the “card underline”—the single, double, or triple underlining of certain words as a means of highlighting them—and then includes a handwritten message of news and/or good wishes. She also usually sends a dollar inside the card.

Many years ago, when I was sending 7-10 cards per week—I actually had a spreadsheet to keep myself organized!—G-mama and I sent each other a lot of dollars and cards full of the card underline. G-mama collected her dollars until she had enough to pay for a pedicure. I left my dollars in their cards so that I could go back and find them later.

In recent years, I’ve been terrible at sending cards. I have a whole bunch purchased. I have forever stamps. I like sharing the card underline with friends and family. Yet. Birthdays and holidays and random days come and go while cards don’t get sent. From me. But from G-mama?

With 91 years of life behind her and a very shaky left hand, G-mama still sends cards. She doesn’t send as many as she used to because so many of her friends have died. But she still sends cards, complete with the card underline, to friends and family whenever the occasion arises.

I admire that about G-mama. I always have.

I probably won’t have 3 children and 4 grandchildren and 5 great-children and sending cards through the mail may be obsolete by the time I’m ninety-one, but still…I hope that after 91 years of living, I am still thinking about those whom I love and doing whatever I can to brighten their days.

Thank you, G-mama for your example and for introducing us to the “card underline.”
You are loved.
And we are blessed.
Happy birthday!
And amen.

Dear Self

As part of a training that I attended yesterday and today, I was asked to think back to the years of my early adolescence. I was asked to think about how I looked, dressed, felt, and acted, and what events stood out to me from those years. After a few minutes of letting those memories flood my mind, I was asked to write a letter to my adolescent self, knowing what I know now.

While the women around me feverishly began to write, I sat and stared at my blank sheet of paper. I had no idea what I wanted to write to my adolescent self because I knew that what I know now would have never registered with who I was then. I knew that had my adolescent self made any other life choices than the ones I made, then I would not be who I am today. Sure, I may have been healthier sooner, but I would not have the understanding, depth, compassion, and grace that I do now. And so I sat. And I stared…

In order to finally write something, I had to step outside of myself and imagine myself writing to all adolescents. I had to imagine my adolescent self not as the Deanna that I both love and hate but as the Deanna that is connected to all of humanity. And here is what I finally wrote:

Dear Me,

You don’t have to try so hard to be loved. You don’t have to be perfect. You are okay just as you are.

I love you. And I believe in you.

I love and believe in who you are now and I love and believe in who you are becoming.

You are going to be okay. And you are not alone.

Love,
Me


What about you, dear reader? What did your early adolescence look like? And what would you tell your adolescent self now?