Finding Nana

The Georgia Aquarium is ginormous beyond belief. It is literally the world’s largest aquarium and boasts eight million gallons of marine and fresh water. Eight. Million. They have it set up so that you can explore the Georgia’s water life, tropical coral reefs, river wildlife, and cold water dwellers. There is a space where visitors can sit in front of the second largest viewing window in the world. It’s lots of feet high and madd feet wide. Holding back millions of gallons of water, I was pleased to hear it’s two feet thick as well. Construction was completed in 2005, and there was controversy about it all the way through. Grassroots organizers protested the aquarium’s construction, pointing to the hypocrisy of misguided spending: how would a city support a multi-billion dollar endeavor to house fish, when there are plenty folks without homes themselves? How is it fair to charge $30.00 for a ticket (and $22.00 for kids!), and for whom was this establishment created? I only heard about the activism peripherally, and what I heard sounded real and valid to me. I also know though, that I have had some wonderful times at the Georgia Aquarium.

Notwithstanding the controversy, the aquarium is one of my favorite places to bring my little niece and nephew when they visit Atlanta. They are always mesmerized by the Beluga whales, excited by the petting pond (who knew sting rays were so slippery and star fish so bumpy?), and dazzled by sea otters. My four year old nephew also knows an incredible amount about names of fish and life under the sea. A few visits back, I pointed to a weird but intriguing thing and beckoned my nephew to look at the “funky-looking sea flower.” He looked up at me, confused and with a hint of impatience and said, “Aunt Jiiiiill, that’s not a funky-looking sea flower, that’s a sea anemone!” Wow.

My sister told me he knows that he has so much marine knowledge from watching what no doubt has become this generation’s version of The Little Mermaid: Disney’s Finding Nemo. My nephew, who does not watch movies a lot, loves Finding Nemo with an intense passion. He knows all the characters and the story line, and never seems to tire of it at all.

Appropriately, then, he and his baby sister are always thrilled when they see Nemo really swimming at the Georgia Aquarium, in a small tank with a clown fish sign above it. The window is always crowded with dozens of little kids, waving hi to Nemo and vying for his attention. Incidentally, the aquarium has incorporated the Nemo craze by establishing him as their mascot – except instead of Nemo, they call him Deepo (no doubt a way around Disney lawsuits and a nod towards the Home Depot’s corporate sponsorship).

My niece and nephew adore our mother, whom they call Nana. With her, they do art projects, go on walks, and read read read. My niece leaves frequent messages on Nana and Poppy’s voicemail, just to say “hi,” “bye,” or count to eleven (she always skips five, but never stops at ten). Accordingly, my nephew got very concerned when he looked around at the Aquarium and did not see his Nana. “Where is she? I need to show her this sea turtle. I neeeeeed to find her!” We looked a little bit before I convinced him to come with me to the Ocean Voyager section, and that we might just see her in there.

As my nephew and I entered into the darkness of that section, we were both engrossed in the fish, and I could tell that he has momentarily laid down his worry about Nana separation. We were headed toward what I think is the freshest part of the aquarium: a long acrylic tunnel that has water on all sides. Here, one really feels like one is in the ocean. Off in the distance, I saw a diver coming down, which is something I knew my nephew would enjoy. Before I could draw his attention to it, though, he saw the diver as well. “Aunt Jill!” he screamed excitedly, “Aunt Jill, there she is!” Looking up at the diver, and back at my nephew, I asked him who he saw. With a similar look to that which he gave me when I audaciously called a sea anemone a “funky-looking sea flower,” he said “Nana. There’s Nana, Aunt Jill.”

I picked him up and squeezed him tight. “Yes, sweetie. You’re right. There’s Nana,” I agreed, remembering a time when grandparents were bigger-than-life. As if he could hear our conversation, the diver looked down at my vigorously waving nephew, and gave a thumbs-up.

At last, we had found Nana.