Tara Kristin

My bicentennial baby.

Hope you like your name. You know, named after the most important character in GWTW. And Kristin. Well, it just sounded so Germanic to me and our heritage and all that. Besides I thought Kris with a "k" would make a great nickname. Not like all those plain-Jane "ch" Chrisses.

I think it takes a newborn a little time to develop their own look and personality, to kind of be their own little person even though their mamas might each think her baby is just the most unique, outstanding child ever birthed.

You yourself were a very cool little baby even at 6 weeks old, not minding as I toted you around on my hip at Harve Free's July 4th fish fry over in Lexa. He served buffalo, which I had to thoroughly clean of tiny bones before I could feed you little morsels, which I could tell you enjoyed, though like babies do, you had to wallow it around in your mouth a bit before swallowing half and spitting the other half out. Your mom was annoyed, though I can't understand why. It seems to me you enjoyed the taste of fried fish like a true Southern girl and continue to do so to this very day.

So you survived the fish fry with no problems but the Incident of the Shaken Baby was quite a close call. A few months later, your Pepaw Tolar, Red Paul and I were working at the tractor shed maybe thirty yards in front of the Old House. One of the John Deeres was running so I couldn't hear anything but caught a glimpse of movement from the corner of my eye. Your mother and Memaw Tolar were standing on the back porch shaking you. Panic was obvious in their demeanor so I ran immediately toward the house and leaped the last several feet (so it seemed) onto the porch. Snatching you from whichever one of them was holding you, I administered a sharp slap to your back and you started crying. Which was good because previously you had been making no sound but turning some scary shades of red then blue. I handed you back to your mother and walked back out to the shop.The shaking the baby to make her stop choking? I have no idea. Ask your mother.

You were the quiet one, it seems to me, not as talkative as your sisters at first. Quiet also in a sneaky way. You had the guerilla thing down, moving in the shadows (so to speak), getting into and maybe getting away with, stuff.

In a house full of talkers, you seemed to grow out of the silent phase. And your conversation became a flow of stream of consciousness which was very entertaining. One day, at the Old House and you were maybe five or six, Ozzy I think it was came on the stereo and you commented on his devil "we-shopping" tendencies. I was inspired to write a song on the spot: "We shop for the devil, how else does he buy his tennis shoes?" You found that very entertaining I remember.

Later on when I was living on Moon Lake, you met my friends Buddy Furniss and Cub, whom you promptly christened "Bug and Hug", never mentioning one without the other. Bud found that highly entertaining and remarked, "Little kids is a trip."

It is always strange I think to remember your babies as babies and little children when you experience them as adults. Maybe you have found it so. I hope you do because to remember you little guys while observing the women you've become is one of the joys of this life.

Pictures are good but the memories, so vivid, so clear are the things we cherish. I remember you, with your dutch boy(?) haircut, your mischievous smile, your sweet demeanor.

I am so glad and so proud that God has blessed you with a loving husband and kids and grandkids to gladden your heart and make you smile. Some people change as they grow older. Some need to. Not you. I still see in you that tranquil nature you had as an infant and a little child.  How proud I am of who you are and the joy you bring into the lives of your loved ones and all who know you.

I love you, Tara Kristin.