Good Bye David

 



Today they announced that David Bowie died yesterday.  This news made me feel sad, like I had lost someone I knew, but of course I did not.  The thing is my grandmother talked about him all the time.  She followed him in the tabloids, with Rhoda Barrett on the news, and regularly would watch him on the Midnight Special.  She would talk about how he and his wife both looked like girls, he was seen wearing a purse, and he had on full make-up while performing on TV.  One night she even let me stay up and watch him perform a number on Midnight Special.  He was gloriously beautiful.  My grandmother talked about him so much, I thought she must know him. 

As I grew up I learned what it meant to be a celebrity and have everything you do securitized in the media.  My grandma did not know David Bowie, but in some ways I still felt like he was a distant relative.  He also stood as a beacon of what it meant to be different.  Even in the middle of nowhere I could see that individuals did exist in the world.  There was hope.

In 2014 I had the good fortune to see the David Bowie exhibit at the Chicago Museum of Modern Art (http://tempestinapot.blogspot.com/2014/10/an-iconic-vacation-to-chicagoland.html ).  The exhibit reminded me of how iconic Bowie is.  Today the news came Bowie became a was, not an is.  I know like many I am wishing him well in the great beyond and thanking him for being something glittering and bright in my world.  Good night, sweet prince.

The Women Before Me

Left to Right: Margaret Ann Lambing (baby), Dorothy Margaret Fife, Elizabeth Fife, Mrs. Bonnekamp at Leasburg MO, 1942

Recently, my mom loaned me a photograph of four generations of women who came before me.  I look at the firm lines of their mouths and I can see the grit in their craw.  People only crossed these women at their own expense.  Truly.

Mrs. Bonnekamp came to Leasburg MO with money in her pocket and a general store which she ran in this whistle stop of a town.  Her daughter, Elizabeth, married a tall Scotsman named Fred Fife and the two of them ran the local tavern.  Elizabeth and Fred Fife had five childern, but only one was a girl, my grandmother.  Dorothy Margaret Fife was spoiled by her father, brothers, and grandmother.  However, Margaret and her mother would often fight, which always ended with Margaret hiding under the bed and Elizabeth poking her with a broom to get her out.

Margaret's own daughter, Margaret Ann, is my mother.  I knew only my grandmother and mother, but I like to think I must have something in me from my ancestors.  Maybe I got a love of shopping from Mrs. Bonnekamp whose first name I don't know.  And I am sure I got my friendliness from Elizabeth.  I have been told she loved the constant stream of people into her tavern and that she never met a stranger.

Today as I say happy mother's day to all the mom's in the world, I also say thank you.  Thank you to the women from which I am descended.  Thank you for giving me the genes which have come down in my DNA to help make me who I am.  And thank you for teaching me to not frown so sternly in photographs.  Those faces are so rigid, I have to wonder if their gridles were killing them.