When I was about three or four years old, we went to the beach with Baba and Great-Grandpa Sam (they were my Grandma and Grandpa Gudeon). I was wearing an adorable strawberry bathing suit with a matching hat and I was so proud of that hat. It had a wide straw brim with a strawberry on it, and I felt like a big girl in it.
After we'd been there a while, Baba took me for a walk. We left my little brother (your Uncle Mark) back at the cabana with Myna, and I felt very special getting to be by myself with Baba. I was practically strutting in my fabulous new hat.
We started on the boardwalk and she took me to meet all her friends. She was very proud of her first grandchild and she loved showing me off - and I loved showing off my hat. We had a wonderful time together and when it was time to return, we decided to come back by walking along the beach to be sure we hadn't missed our chance to show off to any of Baba's friends we might have missed.
While we were making our way along the sandy waterfront, a huge wind came and blew my beloved hat into the ocean! There was no saving it. Baba thought I'd be inconsolable but instead I was full of excitement.
"Mommy, Mommy!" I yelled as we neared the cabana. "Guess what happened!"
"What," she asked, a little taken aback by my enthusiasm.
"We were walking on the beach," I regaled her, "and a big tomato came and blew my hat away!"
I couldn't understand why everyone was laughing when it was a truly dramatic story of love and loss.
Who knows? Maybe that was my first experience with the power of language to create comedy out of tragedy.
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