Cement Pig Legacy

The cement pig arrived! The mailman almost had a hernia bringing it to my door and it cost $25 bucks to ship it, but it's here in one piece. This is the first time the pig left Wisconsin. Oh, I guess I should explain about the pig. My grandpa used to make cement molds for his garden by taking plastic lawn ornaments and filling them with cement. He made the pig out of a piggy bank. There were two pigs made, and in the eighties someone stole one of them off my grandma's porch. She filed a complaint with the police and was embarrassed when the newspaper came out the next day and the police blotter listed her name and address and how her pink cement pig was reported stolen at such and such a time. We had no leads, and the pig was never seen again.

When my grandma died, my family was pretty shook up. She was the matriarch of our family and we had a lot of great memories of her house, my grandpa's pranks, and my grandma's generosity. Family life revolved around my grandmas house, and we didn't want to let anything of that house go. Every little thing went to someone and was treasured. My grandma wasn't wealthy, so she didn't have diamonds, bonds, or expensive antiques to fight over. The valuable stuff she had was the stuff that held memories. The cement pig was one of those items because of the laughs it brought us over the years. Nobody wanted to claim the pig as there own. Maybe because it's a pink cement pig and nobody wanted to be tied down with it for the rest of their lives, but I doubt it. Everyone is excited every year when they open the mysterious extra present at Christmas. It's either the pink pig or the block of coal. This year I was the first grandchild to get the mysterious packaged marked To Jenny, Love Santa. I wasn't expecting it because the grandchildren never get the pig. Only the uncles, and my mom get the pig. They wanted me to take it to Canada and take pictures of it's journey. I can't wait. hehe. It'll be like a garden gnome voyage, only garden gnomes are a tad bit lighter than a heavy cement pig. ;)

I'm so glad I grew up with the family I did. It might sound hokey, but when I hear about wills and inheritances destroying family relationships and how some families just squabble over the possessions of their recently departed loved ones, I get very sad. I shouldn't get sad. I should feel blessed that my family was so worried about offending people and hogging a family relic that we pass around a crazy cement pig every Christmas. I think I'll make a new tradition and take pictures of the pig in my garden, and maybe photoshop the pig into my Vancouver and Whistler pics to show what we did that year. I'll make a little album and encourage other pig recipients to do the same with the year they get the pig. Next year, I think I'll pass it to my cousin Dan. He's getting married and surely they will need a cement pig the first year of their marraige to remind them to laugh every once in awhile.