82 Happy thoughts, thought 15

Hello there, my name is Miranda Holloway, and as a junior I am a member of the 500 something most stressed out people in school. Not only am I a junior but I am a student, along with about 2100 other kids, at one of the top ten high schools in the state and while the stress at any school can get rough, everyone knows that the pressure can be intense and the workload can be high.  So in the spirit of staying sane, I have started this blog to remind my fellow knights, and myself for that matter, to stop and smell the roses, take a walk in the park or watch a funny movie; essentially want everyone to take a deep breath and smile. Inspire d by the website 1000awesomethings.com, I will be posting this blog twice a week until the the end to the school year, 82 times in all, about things that are meant to make you grin. Happy moments, enjoyable memories, blissful feelings; you name it, I’ll post it. So, overall, take a minute to just relax and think happy thoughts

Thought #15-family history

I’m such a history buff. So much so that if I was someone else was as openly nerdy as I am on the inside, it would be embarrassing. When I start to talk about history I forget that speaking in detail about the Kennedy administration is not always an interest I share with my peers.

I’m that kid in middle school who  would watch the History Channel when I stayed home sick. Well, if it was something interesting about the Civil War or the Presidents, not something dumb like Ancient Aliens  or something freaky and unrealistic like that Mayan Apocalypse 2012 crap, which would scare the living daylights out of me.

That being said, don’t judge me for the rest of this post.

I love listening to my parents’ and grandparents’ stories of what they went through and what they saw when they were young.
I have always loved hearing about my extended family’s role in the women’s rights movement,  the coup in Chile in 1973 or my grandmother’s life as the daughter of Polish immigrants in Chicago in the 1930s.
To see events written down in a book or to hear the stories be told by college professors on the History channel is a great way to learn about history, but the level of understanding it brings can only go so far.
Hearing about their experiences makes what I learn in history class or on the TV  so much more personal and real.
For some reason, knowing people who were part of these events make those events more real . These events are not just stories written on a page that we need to know for an AP class. These events were a part of their lives and  effected them directly.
Who knows, years from now we might be telling our kids or grandchildren about how we saw the inauguration of the first African- American president, the war on terror and the Occupy Wall Street movement.
But this isn’t about us, at least not yet. This is about my grandma.
Born and raised in Chicago she is an interesting person and as Shrek may say “[she’s] like an onion, its got layers.”
One of those layers happens to be that when she was 17 she was in attendance at the 1949 Inauguration of President Harry Truman.

COOL I KNOW RIGHT!  I mean come on Grandma, you’ve known me all 17 years of my life and you have waited this long to tell me.

Story goes that she and a few other Chicago teens won an essay contest about what they wanted out of their future.  As their reward they were given an all expense paid trip, by train, to Washington DC.
She says that the trip was fantastic, except that  it was cold and her mom, my great-grandma, had to chaperone , which was “bothersome”. I guess some things never change.
She still has the letter saying she won, her invitation, the program and plenty of pictures of herself and the group.
Seeing all of this family history, which was broken out on Thanksgiving by the way, was a reminder of how far we’ve come and how far we can a will go.
With that thought I leave you with this little gem from my ever sassy grandmother. It may not sound like much when you read it here, but in real life it was hysterical. If you feel like hearing this in all it’s glory, see me for a dramatic interpretation.
“Gee, look at the old car, Grandma,” my sister said.
“Well back then they called it a new car, dear,” my Grandma replied.
Don’t believe me?
Well you should because I have the evidence to prove it with pictures bellow of the letter telling my Grandma she won, her invitation and her program to the event.