My dad (Pop, we call him) is getting remarried tomorrow. The harem of 50-year-old hotties living at his house had to move out to make room for his new bride.
Pop is marrying a wonderful lady. It's quite a story, too. Both he and my late mother, as well as his new wife-to-be and her late husband, all new each other as teenagers. They grew up together. My mom passed away over three years ago, now. Miss Nancy, Pop's fiance, lost her husband five years ago.
Friendship led to companionship and, well, what can one say? Senior Citizens these days!
So, tomorrow, with two whole lives already under their collective belt, Pop and Nancy are getting married. A month ago, my father (age 69) more or less asked me for my permission to get married. In a round about way, so did Miss Nancy. Pop's very old school, and Nancy is the picture of grace.
We never quite know what to expect next, do we? I'm already trying to absorb my own child's finishing kindergarten this week (she is a READER!).
Unbeknown to my spouse (and soon to be first grader daughter), Gone With the Wind Barbie and her sisters are about to move in with us. Pop has been making room at home for his new bride. One of the items moving out has been my late mother's rather substantial collection of heirloom Barbie dolls. Barbie just turned 50 years old, you may recall from the media coverage. This collection was one of my mom's quirky passions. The collecting really took off after the birth of my daughter. Call it her legacy.
Quirky as it was, it was still heartfelt. And that's what matters. And I've never curated a Barbie museum. It ought to be interesting.
Best of Luck to Pop and Nancy.
Anything about family.