To Speak of One Is to Speak of All of them Before Us

In the summer of 2009, a year before my mothers death, there were four generations of Novak women alive. My grandmother, age 78. My mother, age 54, and my aunt, age 53, myself, age 30, lastly, you, age 8. We are all very different people and yet the branches of our family tree led us to who we are, to who you are, and will be.

My grandmother, Dorothy Elizabeth Novak, your great grandmother, and I once got into an argument on leaving the house being dressed a certain way. She did not like that I was wearing jeans several sizes too big, which in all honesty was not a good look, and I, in response, told her I would not be seen with her if she wore that “old lady” rain cap. It was the last time she openly judged me, and I her.

She also used to pretend with me and your dad that the radio buttons and knobs in the car were missiles and navigation gear as if we were spies, more specifically James Bond.

My mother, Linda Christine Novak, your grandmother, gave me lots of good advice over the years, but, “ never date a man with a plate in his head, that whistles at you or drives a cab” always stood out in my mind. And by the way, I’ve dated all three.

She also wanted, “I never knowingly f@cked a republican” on her gravestone. Knowing she would be cremated.

My aunt, Lisa Dianne Novak, Auntie, and I shared a deep love for a cat named Nigel. I often wonder who loved him more. He always would meow as a kitten, but grew up to have no meow. He would make the effort, but nothing came out. He was the sweetest thing on the planet. There was also Billy-O, which I did not like… he always looked at me like he wanted to eat me. There was of course Pineapple Sunset, which you named, that used to meet Auntie at the end of the street and walk home with her everyday. There was Meshka, a.k.a Moose, who I will always feel guilt for. Romeo I believe kept Auntie alive, and when he died, she soon followed. Briefly before her death there was Georgie, whom I have video of Auntie’s voice recorded while we played with her.

She also made sure you would never forget what show she stayed home to watch instead of running away from home when she was 6, or the name of her childhood love, or what she used to feed her horse, Monty. It was a Big Mac. Incase you forgot.

You, my niece, now nephew, Wren Terrabubbles have chosen a hard path. One that was illegal three generations ago. Self discovery takes a lifetime, my best advice to you is to not waste a second of it!

You and I both grew up with older brothers that we didn’t like. I think we both felt like they were loved more. Neither case is true. We are stronger than our brothers though. I am thankful that you, Wren, can appreciate your brother and that you are supportive of one another as adults.

Twelve years later only you and I are left. I for one am so grateful for these women that raised me to be an independent, open minded, funny person. I know you hardly remember the Novak women before us, if at all, but they are all a piece of your thoughtfully earnest story.

I am not sure how I, or you, feel about me writing this as if you identify as a woman. I guess I am really writing this to Isabelle Terra Novak, contextually it works I think. But know that you, Wren Terrabubbles, I encourage, support and am in awe of, always.