"Climbing Like a Homesick Angel"

Yesterday, I flew back to Chicago. Airports definitely make for good people watching, and my flight was especially interesting with an old man sitting catty-corner from me who talked non-stop. He had a strong Illinois accent, and his enormous bushy eyebrows flared upward at the ends as though trying to fly off his forehead, which I thought was appropriate considering he said that he was a pilot. As our plane took off, he commented to a stewardess, "We have a phrase for this, 'Climbing like a homesick angel,' and this bird does that." I thought it was an interesting saying.

I sat next to a girl who was training to work on an airline. She had a panda blanket, and we chatted about our younger sisters and the holiday movies we wanted to see. (We also shared each other's frightened expressions whenever the small plane hit turbulence and dipped suddenly.) I don't get why some people never bother to strike up a conversation with the person sitting beside them on planes or trains—I suppose I don't get it for the same reason I'll never understand why people (at UChicago) don't always return smiles in passing. Does it really take so much effort to be friendly? What on earth makes people avert their glances in response to a simple smile? I've made it my little project while I'm here to inject my Southern gentility into the student body. Smiles on the quads today, fried green tomatoes in the dining halls tomorrow! (Or perhaps just wishful thinking on my part...)

The Guests Arrive (Family Reunion, Part I)

This past Saturday, my family had a MASSIVE reunion, and I'm not just talking first cousins—I met relatives from branches of the family that I didn't even know existed. We have some relatives who live in New York, as well as the more Southern branches of the family here in Virginia, so it was an interesting blend of characters. My grandfather organized it all, and the reunion was held in an old country Methodist church near where my Great Great Great Uncle Cab was run over by a train. (How sentimental.)

Cousin Robert from Queens stayed in our house with his wife, Margie. Cousin Robert wears massive rings and gold bracelets, and slicks his hair over his bald spot. While his extremely loud New York voice booms out-of-place in our quiet town, there's something endearing about him—he tells hilarious (and exaggerated, I'm sure!) stories. He brings down chocolate truffles and (used to bring us) DVDs of questionable legality that my paranoid mother would always end sticking in the microwave as soon as he left to "destroy the evidence." (If you're an FBI agent who happens to be reading this, then don't get your underpants all in a twist, because he brought us real DVDs this year—perhaps he's made better friends who don't run sketchy movie stores.)

Margie is an angel—she uses expressions such as "Crumbs!" when she's agitated and "Oh my glory!" when she's surprised. While she was ecstatic to visit us for the first time in years, she missed her beloved cats (they don't have children) back home. (As I recall from a trip when I was very young, she fed them from a glass goblet.) Her eyes are beautiful and friendly, and she positively radiates joy and kindness.

On short notice, we found out that we would host two additional guests, Cousin Robert's brother and his wife who own a horse farm in Ohio. While it was hectic preparing another room for them, they were lovely people—Bill has caterpillar eyebrows, a friendly smile, and a booming voice (most likely due to his loss of hearing), and Carolyn has crinkly eyes and a soothing accent. Despite a recent freak accident on the farm that involved one horse bleeding halfway to death after another one kicked him, they (Bill and Carolyn, that is, not the horses, I imagine) were in good spirits. I enjoyed hearing Bill tell old family stories into the late hours of the night, especially the ones about his time as a trade school student in Chicago. He told me that the appeal of the city wore off after a few years (and bitter cold winters) for him—he hadn't fallen in love with Chicago like I have.