Evolution - Dedicated to Etienne Randall LeGrand

A few weeks ago I got to spend time with my Big Sister, Etienne. We are averaging five years between visits these days, which is way too long. She was here celebrating the graduation of her best friends’ three children from college and grad school, looking fabulous as usual.

She has always been who I want to be when I grow up.

It’s just that I’ve evolved and now the gap between who she is and who I am closes more and more with each phase of our lives.

Etienne, or “Ann” as I grew up calling her, lived four doors away from me in Mount Airy, Philadelphia (yes, “Ann” did slip out a few times during our visit but she kept introducing me as her Baby Sister so we’re even). She babysat me from the time I was six years old until she left for college in Boston, and made it her business to groom me into the beautiful young lady she has always known I could become. In the midst of the dysfunction my family had to carefully (but probably not successfully) hide, Etienne was an oasis of all I could be in life.

I worshipped her.

To me, she was Perfect – Perfect Clothes, Perfect Shoes, Perfect Hair, Perfect Body, Perfect Career Path, Perfect Life. (Can’t say Perfect Make-up – she doesn’t wear any because she has Perfect Skin.)

She taught me to frame and display ordinary snapshots that capture precious moments next to bowls of potpourri and vases of fresh flowers, while we toasted glasses of champagne she still drinks just because.

On the other hand, she also spanked me up until (actually on) my wedding day. I think she would still backhand me if I tried to off-load some bullshit (which she has absolutely no tolerance for). I think I just stopped being scared of her last year.

Highlights from my adolescence include moments when I would be walking home from school and she and Roslyn (her BFF of at least 30 years) would unexpectedly drive by on a visit home from college (her visits were never announced and still aren’t). I would get to ride in a Datsun B210 with real college students who were the epitome of cool. In between swigs of Robitussin, they would teach me important things about life like what to major in and how to play pinochle.

Many seismic disruptions would occur in our lives and sometimes we talked about them without really talking about them.

I remember my parents separating once when I was 16 and she tracked us down at my aunt’s clear across town. She showed up married and pregnant but we all sat around the table drinking tea as though my mother, sister, and I were not displaced and she had not begun a whole new life we knew nothing about.

The years eventually found us both in the Washington, DC area – me as a Howard student, she as a new wife and mother. She had evolved into the quintessential independent business woman and I the eager young pup who would never have the chutzpah she had.

Or so I thought. (I told you I’ve evolved.)

She was hard-core and couldn’t be bothered with tears or broken hearts or insecurities – all of which plagued my young life.

That was until love showed up at her door.

I noticed she started getting her nails done and letting her hair grow and wearing lavender mascara. Her make-up case – which was now the size of what used to be her entire purse - now fit into a Coach satchel that carried must-haves that I thought she was too busy and important to require.

After much deliberation, she finally accepted the marriage proposal of her now husband of over 20 years. Oh, and he moved her across country – another no-no as no self-respecting, self-made woman wraps her life around the plans / life of some man.

But we do evolve.

One of my favorite moments with her was shopping for her wedding gown. She saw a dress she loved in a magazine and we went marching off to Silver Spring to get it. Just like that. But the first store didn’t have it. In utter frustration, she walked out and on the steps of the store announced, “This....me being a bride is just such a ridiculous, absurd notion! That’s it – we’re going to get pancakes!”

So off to IHOP we went.

Hey, evolution comes in fits and starts.

My love for Etienne has evolved from that of a child to the respect and admiration shared woman‑to‑woman. I’m not only her Baby Sister – a title I wear proudly - but feel like now we’re bonafide sister-friends.

I see myself in her. No longer as someone I could never measure up to but a magnificent woman who mirrors my own beauty, resilience, and fortitude.

I proudly gave my daughter her name - Drew Etienne. Partially because I think it’s pretty fly. But also because I think she’s a pretty cool act to follow.

So now we both have exposure to and inhabit worlds we knew nothing about in Mount Airy. We’ve weathered treacherous territories such as crazy-ass Corporate America, marriage, divorce, and parenting teenage daughters.  Life, to me, has become the great equalizer. And when she hugged me farewell, I knew we were closer than ever.

She is my Sister.

Transitions - An Unspoken Bond

Last week we celebrated Drew’s graduation from eighth grade.

We have officially made it through middle school alive and I am now living with a bonafide high schooler.

What an adventure these past two years have been! The early teen years have not been without their fits and starts but we, along with our Village, have weathered the storm and come out stronger and closer.

High school can only get better, right?

There have been moments during this transition from child to teen that I never, ever imagined. We have survived out-and-out crises but the key is we survived intact.

Like most divorced couples, my interactions with Drew’s Dad and his new family have not been without their own fits and starts. And like with most families, while Dads do their parts, it’s the women who run interference, oftentimes silently, in order to keep things together.

So even though it’s Father’s Day Weekend, I’d like to take this time to honor Drew’s Stepmother, Miss Tammi.

I must admit that in the beginning, one of the most difficult and unexpected transitions of divorce was watching my daughter be absorbed into a family I was not a part of.

It wasn’t that I didn’t want her father to remarry. But when I began to hear of birthday celebrations I wasn’t a part of, or Girls Days Out that I hadn’t orchestrated, I felt left out. What’s more, in spite of her resistance and steadfast denial, my daughter was beginning to enjoy her Stepmom’s overtures and I was genuinely happy the family seemed to be blending.

I remember one birthday celebration that I had in fact orchestrated where “Miss Tammi” and her Dad dropped by. When Drew opened their gift, her eyes lit up and her jaw dropped and I could instantly tell it was exactly what she wanted – a very cool blouse with sheer sleeves and jewels sewn around the neckline. The style was vintage Drew even though I’m not completely sure it was Miss Tammi’s cup of tea. It was clear this was an item they had seen on one of their Saturday shopping trips to Hecht’s now Macy’s (trips Drew swore she hated but I was now beginning to suspect otherwise). That year for school pictures Drew would not hear of wearing anything else. It was then that I realized that Miss Tammi was getting to know my girl and they were indeed creating their own special bond.

As Stepmom’s go, Miss Tammi is a dream. Even though she has at times gotten a bad rap and has been on the receiving end of the wrath of an only child who vehemently resented sharing her Daddy, I can tell she genuinely cares about my daughter and works hard not to make any delineation between her own daughter and mine. That puts my heart at ease when she’s with her Dad because even though I know Drew needs to find her place in that family, it’s hard watching a woman you don’t really know mother your child.

Not quite a year after Miss Tammi married Drew’s Dad, my second husband abruptly abandoned Drew and me after just three months. I was emotionally devastated and in dire financial straits. Over the ensuing weeks and months, however, I began to notice a few touches that had Miss Tammi all over them. Drew would come back from her visits at her Dad’s with her hair done and a new outfit. While some of my friends thought I should have an attitude, all I could do was thank the good Lord above because He knew I did not have the money to provide the way I wanted to.

The ultimate gesture came when I received an American Express gift card that Christmas that I knew came from her – she handed it to me personally in a beautiful card that had her handwriting.

In the beginning, I didn’t think of myself as a friend of Miss Tammi’s but over time I thought of us as having developed an unspoken bond. That knowing of what it’s like to be a single mom (before Drew’s dad, I think she raised two kids on her own for ten years, including a son).  And maybe not just because she’s been a single mom but because she’s a sister who's been there and knows what it’s like.

I can tell you I think Miss Tammi is a helluva lot stronger than I am. Not long ago, one of those teen crises blind-sided all of us and I was completely undone. Once the dust settled and the entire family came together to do some mending, I was still a mess of tears. Miss Tammi calmly said, “Allison, stop crying. Everything is fine but it’s time to get tough now, OK? Wash your face, pull yourself together, and let’s go.”

I’d say we’re becoming friends.

I’ve been through my share of challenges and I’ve known a lot of hurt. While there have been moments when I’m sure I was bitter and considered staying there, I am grateful that God has helped me turn my pain into an even more tender and compassionate heart. What that tender heart has learned is to appreciate e-ver-y-thing, down to even the slightest gesture of love, support, and kindness. I would say that my heart is not only tender but downright sappy.

So, Miss Tammi, if I have never said it before, from the bottom of my tender-sappy-war-torn heart, I thank you.