It is 9:30 a.m.; Do you know where your daughter is

There is much to be said for staying in touch. Especially for any parents who want to be connected to their also aging children and their not-so-young grandchildren. I'm talking 90-ish parents, 60-ish children and the next generation, who, I believe are called the Y's, or are they the X's?

The major changes in the way we reach out to one another astounds us great-grandmothers. During our college years, we wrote lovely letters to our parents and hardly ever spoke on the phone.  There was usually one phone per dorm floor, used mostly for emergency calls and date-making. And dates were local calls, boyfriends near-by.

By the time our children were in college, they phoned home on Sundays--collect. We had desultory conversation, no details, not all we had described in our letters home. It could be said we were in touch, technically.

And now, in the obvious availability of constant contact, we say even less. The alphabet has been corrupted,  emotions are abbreviations, wtf and omg. 

All of which make us grateful for the telephone calls we still receive, the letters that are written, the devotion expressed each day at a pre-designated time. 

Keep them cards and letters coming. We love them.

 

A first hello (do I hear an echo?)

This is my first crack at blogging and I make a solemn promise.  It is the only blog I will ever write that is specifically about me.

 I need to translate my blog-name, because it makes no sense unless you know what a "wede" is.  It is my grandmother name, awarded to me as a gift when my first grandchild was less than a year old. When she could barely talk, she would look at me and say something that sounded like "weedy". Eventually, we figured out that when I saw her, I always said, "hello, sweetie". She thought that is how we huge people all around tiny Maggie greeted each other.When Big Bird and Bert and Ernie taught her letters and sounds, she wrote that I was w-e-d-e. Of all the names attached to me over the years, Wede is my favorite.

The "B" proves that I am really with it. I have no idea how to send a text message, but I know that letters stand in for words and words stand in for paragraphs. I love the English language; I revere its proper use. Rather than fight what is happening, I join it. So you have also now learned that I am a peacemaker, even in small battles.

Finally, the 90 is self-explanatory, if I can devine how to attach my picture to the blog. I was ninety-years old on October 20 this year of our Lord, 2009. I love being 90.