Tank Parades and earthquakes; America is GRRRRREAT!
Here it is, the 6thof July and I haven’t started any of my summer projects yet. I’ve been too busy with work, painting class, grandkids, watching the sunset from my front hill, drinking Manhattans, reading Daniel Silva books, getting a walk around the lake in as often as possible…Life is full, baby. Life is full.
I haven’t even had time…wow. I forgot what I was going to write whileI was typing that.
I’m not quite 60 yet but the senior moments are coming fast and furiously. Oh, I don’t mind. I think my brain is just undergoing some long overdue clearing out. Things that don’t matter are being deleted on an hourly basis. I mean, really; do I need to know the lyrics to every Monkees song? No, I do not. Nor do I need to remember every design I’ve come up with in the last 45 years. It would be nice to remember that I promised to babysit the grandkids in the morning but I was still here when they all showed up so no harm, no foul, right?
In the last five days, I’ve spent four of them with various iterations of my grandies. Xena, Babalouie and Kitten spent Tuesday morning here. We went to the park and had a lovely time. It was sunny but too cool to swim and they hadn’t brought their suits anyway so we played on both the playgrounds and Kitten was fascinated by everything. The kids were a tad disappointed that Mom was coming to get them at noon. They wanted to come with me as I made my rounds and visited Grandma Punkin and John G. The grandkids love the Waters: there’s a billiards room, a fountain in the pond and a playground right across the street!
Maybe next time, kids.
Dad is getting frustrated with how long its taking him to regain some of his physical abilities. He can walk, slowly, for quite a ways with his walker, or holding a railing, provided he’s not over tired. My feeling is that at nearly 92 (his birthday is next week) a brisk stride should be the least of his concerns but if he wants me to help him walk once a week, I’m there. I totally understand why his hands are bothering him though. He told his OT that he wants to be able to type like he used to. When he broke his neck, his surgeon warned him that the fine motor skills would take the longest to return. Dr. T. said in a young person it would take a year and no one knew how long it would take for those nerves to rejuvenate in a nonagenarian because as a rule, “you old guys die when you take a fall like that.” Okay, I’m not quoting the doctor here, I’m quoting my brother. But that’s what the Dr. meant. It’s been 14 months since Dad fell and for a guy who could type 60+ words a minute and had done so for hours of every day for the last 70 years, I totally get how having the equivalent of paddles for hands would drive him crazy. So his OT has given him a new set of exercises that are designed to stimulate the nerves and build up the atrophied muscles in his hands. He’s come a very long way since last summer. In ’18, his hands really were paddles. He can now feed himself, help dress himself and when he does a cross word puzzle, you can tell what letters he’s making. He started on the cross words last fall, as soon as he could grip a pen but his motor skills were so poor, it looked like he’d been writing with an overcooked noodle. He complains that his penmanship is so bad but it’s better than mine, now. That’s not saying much. He used to have gorgeous handwriting. He will again. It’s just hard that it’s taking so long.
I reminded him that when Joey got hit by a car, it was 7 years before he could play football again and Joe was only 11 when he broke his leg. Dad is nearly 9 times that age, he needs to be 9 times as patient. Joe was not patient; he turned into the meanest kid on earth during those seven years. I’m extremely thankful that the whole experience didn’t turn Joe into a psycho. Plenty of people would say that it did but sadly, the world still needs killers of Joe’s stripe (that would be American Military, like Chris Kyle). Anyway, Joe’s retired from all that.
I told Dad to quit being such a baby. He laughed and agreed. I was relieved: I didn’t have to play the ‘Woody has chemo every day and doesn’t complain as much as you do’ card.
But I had it ready.
Nietzsche said that which doesn’t kill me makes me stronger. He meant character, of course. He had to know that sometimes that which doesn’t kill you leaves you crippled, pissed off and mostly dead. My Dad, at 90, already had a character of Iron. He didn’t need to work on that.
Everybody gets to whine a little; sometimes things are really tough. But I don’t believe in letting them wallow; if you aren’t actually in a concentration camp, others have had it worse.
I know this is very easy for me to say, since I’ve never suffered at all. I’ve never been sick, I’ve never lost a loved one, I’ve never broken a bone, lost a job, been dumped or had a cavity. I thank God every day for realizing that I’m too weak to handle any kind of adversity at all.
Sometimes I wonder if God isn’t saving up something really hard for me…that’s why I’m working on grace. People don’t understand prayer or grace. I think they get the wrong idea that I think by praying I’m protecting my self from life. That’s not it at all. Prayer is not a magic spell that weaves a protective blanket around one’s life. Prayer produces grace, which does not protect us from misfortune at all: It gives us strength to ride out misfortune.
My Dad has a character of Iron but more important, he’s got grace up the wazoo.
What, do you think Padre Pio likedfighting the Devil every night?? It had to be exhausting!
So that was Tuesday.
Wednesday, Katie brought BoopityBoop over in the morning. It was hot and sunny and we brought the girls down to the pool at the park. We swam for about an hour. On top of all the other great things about having grandkids is that it gives me the perfect excuse to swim in the kiddie pool across the street. I know there’s no law against old folks lounging around a wading pool but it comes across as creepy when you don’t have kids in tow. After lunch, we put the girls down for naps. We had to set up the pack-n-plays in separate rooms or they just play and we really wanted them to sleep. Katie ran some errands and I got some work done. Boop slept for about an hour, then Coach got her up and they had some quality time together. Boopity woke up about an hour later and we all had a lovely time reading books until Katie returned.
Thursday was the 4thof July.
It dawned hot and steamy. I made a big pan of fudge krispies and got them in the freezer early. Then I worked for a few hours until it was time to pack the van and head to Tyler’s. It started raining just as we were pulling up to his place. They had all the fixin’s for a huge picnic party: tons of lawn games in their enormous back yard, a grill packed with brats and dogs of all descriptions, the new screened porch all set up for dining and the horses, goats and calves all ready for inspection. The rain came down in buckets.
A half hour later, the sun came out, the clouds disappeared over the Easter horizon and it was the most glorious, hot, clear day imaginable! There were a lot of us; at least ten couples, most of whom had little kids. Josie and her beau, Nick came. Katie brought not only BoopityBoop but two of her friends from college who are visiting for the long weekend. I had brought along the movie Yankee Doodle Dandy, just in case we were stuck inside, but it was unnecessary.
After a long hot afternoon of fun, fun, fun, some of us were ready to call it a party. Jay and I had no intention of sticking around till fireworks after dark. Josie and Nick also had other plans for evening. We played a bit of musical cars.
Josie’s car isn’t running too well, so she parked hers at our house in town and drove Jay’s car to Tyler’s.
Katie’s car isn’t really big enough for her, both girls’ car seats and her out of town guests.
So we put the car seats in our mini van and let Katie take that. Josie drove Katie’s SUV back to town, parked it in front of our house and took her car to see fireworks. Jay and I drove his car back home. We arrived home about a half hour after Josie and Nick. Everything was running as smooth as silk. Jay and I mixed up some drinks and watched the sunset from our front hill. As I waited for Jay to join me, I noticed something sitting on the hood of Katie’s car. It was about eight inches across, round and dark. For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out what it was, so I walked down to the side walk.
It was a small paper plate packed with fudge krispies.
On the hood of the car.
I took a picture of it and texted it to Josie with the caption “Finders Keepers!”
She texted back “Damn it!!”
I’ll bet they had big plans for those fudge krispies.
Katie, the twins and her friends stayed at Ty’s till about 8:30, then drove (comfortably in my mini van) to downtown Minneapolis for fireworks from the historic Stone Arch Bridge. BoopityBoop had a fun forth but didn’t get to bed until after midnight, which was the fifth.
The 5thof July is also my nephew Vince’s birthday. He’s 18, just graduated from St. Thomas Academy, having made it to State in Football and baseball, taking the State Title in baseball!! Not a bad way to finish up a high school career. Not bad at all.
It’s also my niece Katelyn’s wedding anniversary. She and her husband are celebrating 5 years by buying a new house and having their first baby in a month. Happy Anniversary, Kate and Chad!!
Oh, and the 4thwas also my nephew Wes’ birthday.
We’re just getting started: July is Birthday Month in our family.
Last night, I went up to Katie’s and stayed with BoopityBoop while the ladies went out for a nice dinner. I gave the girls waffles for dinner, a bath and after we watched Coco, they went to bed without a peep. Holidays wear out toddlers, too.
One of these days, I need to paint the trim in my kitchen. I bought the paint last fall but I didn’t get it painted before the cold happened and I need to be able to paint with the windows open. Now’s the time, I just need to find the energy!
Tomorrow will be another Pleasant Valley Sunday . I know that song is supposed to be a critique of the vapidness of middle class suburban life but if you haven’t tried it, don’t knock it. Only the very young or the incurably stupid think that life with no drama is a bad thing.
I love summer.