a confession

"Mom, I have to tell you something. Every day, when no one is looking, I snuck into the pantry and ate those chocolates. Remember those little chocolates? Yeah, I ate them all."

my uncle

On Sunday, my Uncle Preston passed away, peacefully, in his sleep. I am heading to Utah on Thursday for a quick trip in order to attend the graveside. I, like this woman on NPR's This I Believe, believe in always going to the funeral. To be with family, to mourn and remember, together.

My first memory of Preston is from when I was nine. We were in Texas, visiting Grandma, and I was sitting in the den. Probably watching TV, like I did most of that visit, to avoid the heat. Preston walked in from the carport door, and greeted us familiarly. I, however, had no idea who he was and why he's just walked into the house without so much as a knock on the door. He had a thick Texan accent, and a couple missing teeth (from getting in fights, he explained).

"Do ya'll know who I am?" he asked. I shook my head no.

"I'm yer Uncle Preston, yer mama's brother," he said.

That summer, he took us to one of the many ponds on the property, and showed up his fish traps. I remember him telling a story about using a baseball cap as bait--and that darn fish ate it, too. He showed us where the blackberry bushes were, which we picked bare. He showed my brothers how to use his old pellet gun, using old cans as targets, and my brothers taught me. That's when I killed my first rodent, with that gun, and I felt guilty about it for years. Not the natural hunter, me.

My last memory of him is from this summer, in June. I attended a cousin's wedding reception, and he was there. I walked across the lawn toward him and Grandma, and Aunt April and Uncle Kirk. Preston was in his wheelchair, his form of transportation for years now. Everyone was surprised to see me, didn't know I was in town. Someone asked Preston if he knew who I was--we five girls look too much alike for him to keep track of which one is which--and he said, in a voice slurred by poor health, "Sure, she's Shelley's daughter. I don't know which one, I can't keep track, sorry, honey, but I know she's Shelley's daughter. I seen it in her smile. You were walking across the lawn, there, and I could tell, I could see your smile. And it's just like Shelley's, isn't it?"

pronunciation

"Mom," Juma said, "I want to be a Scientologist when I grow up."

I raised my eyebrows, wondering where the heck he heard about Scientology. Of all the religious traditions I've exposed him to, Scientology hasn't been one of them.

"You mean scientist?" I asked hopefully.

"No. I mean the guys who dig up dinosaur bones," he explained.

"Oh! You mean paleontologist."

"Yeah. That. I can't say that word."

SFMOMA

On Sunday, we spent the day in San Francisco, meeting up with some friends for a leisurely brunch, then going to the SFMOMA, or Museum of Modern Art.

We saw lots of Matisse



some Picasso



and some interesting sculptures, such as this one by Marcel Duchamp.



My favorite was an untitled Yves Klein piece, though seeing the jpg hardly does the painting justice. In person, it was full of movement and life, like children playing, jumping, running, and laughing.



There were also some great interactive exhibits involving lights and mirrors. Juma was delighted to poke his head into a black opening in the wall only to see thousands of reflections of himself.

This room was so brightly lit by yellow lights that color seemed to be washed to nothing but a yellow-ish gray.



Nearby, in Yerba Buena Park, we stopped at a Martin Luther King, Jr., memorial behind an artificial waterfall. Juma just thought it was too loud.

happenings

Juma has been up to a lot lately.

He helped Grandma cook a couple times.



We went to a fair in Mariposa, a small town in the mountains. Besides seeing some fancy chickens, ducks, pigs, and beefy cows, Juma enjoyed a couple carnival rides



and got to "drive" a fire engine.



Ever since we got here, Juma's been saving up his allowance--and keeping any spare change he could find--to buy himself a light saber (or "live saver" as he says it). He only earned about half the cost, but as a reward for his reading 10 books four times each, we pitched in the rest of the money for the saber. Then Grandma Beckham pulled out all the old Halloween costumes she made when Justin was a kid, and found this great ewok costume. Juma can't get enough of it and asks that I find youtube videos of ewoks so he can see what they are and what they do. (Remember this?)

birthday

Friday was my birthday, so Rick and Vicki (Justin's parents) took us out to dinner, then we had a little dessert (Justin and Juma made it) back home.

Candles were a last minute thing, so a "2" and a "3 plus 5" were used to make 28.



Juma bought me a present--Batman cars--with his own money, and immediately started playing with it himself.

Justin got me a DNA test kit--to contribute to the Genographic Project, and so I can find out my mitochondrial DNA haplotype. Strangest present I've ever had, but I love it!