Un-Forgetting

Losing a credit card leaves one with an empty feeling in the pit of the stomach. Unfortunately, I have gone through this time consuming and stressful experience. And then, recently, my wife was having dinner with a friend and left her credit card at the restaurant. Luckily, she quickly realized it and called the manager, who told her that her card would be kept in their safe until she was able to reclaim it. Whew! Disaster averted. 

Spiderman and Ball Boy happened to be with us when we stopped at the restaurant to pick up our credit card. Superman asked why and Nana explained that she had forgotten the credit card when she left the restaurant. He thought about it for a second and said very matter-of-factly, “well, you just have to un-forget it, Nana!” He wasn’t judging. He was simply stating the obvious: Remember your credit card, Nana. 

A life lesson from a 5 year old. 

Un-forgetting is really another way of saying - remembering. But I really like “un-forgetting” better. It’s like erasing the original act of forgetting. Not that that can actually be done. As we get older the likelihood of forgetting something on any given day has better odds than the next Pope being Catholic. 

But it’s Christmas and thanks to Spiderman’s wisdom and the true meaning of Christmas, it’s time to:

• un-forget keeping others foremost in my thoughts and being less selfish.
• un-forget the half full glass rather than the half empty one. 
• un-forget to smile more.
• un-forget to be more patient. 
• un-forget to be a less aggressive driver (cheers from Nana!). 
• un-forget that I have been blessed with this life for which I am very grateful.

Our unforgettable grandchildren - Love Monster, Smirker, Spiderman and Ball Boy - help me realize that every day. 

Merry Christmas to all!

Boys and Sticks

What is it with boys and sticks? Spiderman and Ball Boy can’t seem to walk past a stick without picking one up. And the bigger the better. But even the smallest twig is not lost on their eagle eyes. They examine it as if it’s a wand from Hogwarts, mesmerized by the length, thickness, curvature and texture. They immediately start prodding dirt, tree trunks, each other and waving it around menacingly. Makes me think of The Christmas Story line: “You’ll poke your eye with that!”. 

I admit I was drawn to sticks as a young boy, too. Perhaps I should be more restrained when they grab a stick. 

What is the attraction?

Is it that they see themselves as Luke Skywalker and Darth Vader (having no clue who these classic characters are), dueling in the park, good against evil. Light sabers, these puny rods of cellulose, are not.

Maybe it is because they love to dig and a stick is a great digging tool, especially in the sand. They begin hollowing out an opening in the sand and it soon takes a whole new meaning. So they keep digging. I can see the wheels turning in their heads and I imagine what’s running through their minds: they are entering a new universe through a time warp (Spiderman is really into space these days), or they are excavating a gold mine somewhere in the desert. Or maybe, Papa, it’s just to see how far they can dig with their stick! 

Or perhaps they see people walking around with canes or walking sticks and want to see why on earth anyone would want to do that. (Most would rather not have to rely on cane but then there is the cool John Steed of The Avengers!)

Or, they see themselves as the next Jack Nicklaus, Jordan Spieth or Nick Faldo (for my English friends) learning at a young age how to swing a club and hear those timeless (but annoying) words: “In the hole!”. Ah, but then again they have yet to learn the not so insignificant issue about hitting a small round ball with a long angular “stick” into a 2” opening in the ground 400 yards away. I digress - knowing that I understand this all too well. 

Along those same lines, they may see themselves as future baseball players with a sweet swing that will provide them a $5M ($3,283,000 GBP) a year contract - and that’s if you get a hit only once out of every 4 times you come to the plate. Like golf, it’s good that this is all lost on them at this age. 

I know this may be a long shot, but perhaps they are thirsty from playing and recall hearing somewhere (not from their Papa I am sure) that sticks can be used as divining rods which will help them quench their thirst more quickly. I picture myself explaining this to Spiderman and Ball Boy and watching them look at each other and then at me with an expression on their face that says - are you ok, Papa?

Let’s be honest, most boys tend to see sticks as fighting implements first. But that’s not such a bad thing as long as they know the rules and the consequences. If they do, that sword is merely a twig, sprig or branch for the imagination that soon finds itself tossed back to the earth to treasure and take back. 

But if not...it could put your eye out!

I think I will just bite my lip the next time Spiderman or Ball Boy pick up a stick. 

The Usual

I’ll have “the usual”, please.

A common request at a diner by a frequent customer. The waitress doesn’t hesitate - she knows - and places the order. (Ok, it could be a bar and probably works better but this is for a different audience!) 

Have you ever ordered “the usual”? Better yet, have you ever been simply given “the usual” without ever having to say anything? Now that is the best.  A number of years ago, I would religiously stop into a Dunkin Donuts on the way into work. Eventually, I never had to place my order. It was always waiting for me - large cream and sugar with 2 chocolate donuts. She knew my “usual”. Today, it’s still a daily occurrence but at a different location and no donuts - except on special occasions (Monday, Tuesday and Friday...maybe Sunday), and only one. 

I hadn’t thought about it until we started spending more time with our grandsons and they are perfect examples of this phenomena. 

Twice a week for 2 years, Spiderman has requested “the usual” for his lunch. Ok, he doesn’t actually get a menu or says he wants “the usual”, but we know what he wants: 1 slice of liverwurst with a mayonnaise happy face (2 if he's really hungry), 2 sweet pickles, a slice of American cheese and milk. For dessert: 1 scoop of mint chocolate chip, 1 scoop of vanilla and 2 chocolate covered banana nuggets. There can be some surprise requests - cinnamon raisin toast or apples with peanut butter. While those are rare, substitutes are gladly accepted. 

Ball Boy, alias Batman, on the other hand is a little more open to his luncheon fare. He will usually go for a PB&J sandwich, mandarin orange slices, 2 American cheese slices and cinnamon toast. He prefers a cookie for dessert, although has been known to try a scoop of vanilla when we’ve forgotten to get cookies at the bakery. 

Just when you think you have figured out how toddlers consume, we found out that “the usual” is different depending upon which restaurant....er grandparents’ house is serving lunch. What?!

Yes, their other Nana advised us that Spiderman will not touch liverwurst at her house. He flat refuses to eat what we thought is his favorite. He has her version of an egg mcmuffin most days with an alternate of crackers with butter and a separate piece of American cheese. Ball Boy has plain ritz crackers with American cheese (he spit out the swiss cheese - too many holes?), yogurt and watermelon. He likes most fruit. A little more adventuresome. 

I asked their parents what they like at home and they said it is a combination of what they eat at our houses, along with an occasional corn dog or side of apples with peanut butter. Ball Boy tends to at least be willing to try new things every so often. Oh, and they love pizza. Who doesn't!

So why is it that they like certain foods at certain places? And why do they stick with  “the usual” generally at the respective homes? The more burning question: how did we ever get Superman to try liverwurst in the first place? 

The answers:

-I don’t know 

-I will never know 
-It’s delicious, of course!

I believe it’s simply a matter of being comfortable in a particular environment - Comfort Food. 

That’s why tomorrow I think we will offer Spiderman a pastrami sandwich on rye and Ball Boy a chicken cobb salad. 

Gotta keep them on their toes. 

The Sandwich Generation

Did you know that July is National Sandwich Generation Month? I had no idea. (I know, it’s now August but July got away from me!)

This is not to be confused with National Sandwich Month (August), National Grilled Cheese Sandwich Month (April) or National Bacon Lettuce and Tomato (BLT) Sandwich Month (also April). 

I don’t know about you, but whenever I hear the word “sandwich” I think of the memorable diner scene in Five Easy Pieces, the 1970 film starring Jack Nicholson as Robert “Bobby” Dupea.

Dupea: I'd like a, uh, plain omelette, uh, no potatoes, tomatoes instead, a cup of coffee, and wheat toast.

Waitress: No substitutions.

Dupea: What do you mean? You don't have any tomatoes?

Waitress: Only what's on the menu. You can have a number two - a plain omelette. It comes with cottage fries and rolls.

Dupea: Yeah, I know what it comes with, but it's not what I want.

Waitress: Well, I'll come back when you make up your mind.

Dupea: Wait a minute. I have made up my mind. I'd like a plain omelette, no potatoes on the plate, a cup of coffee, and a side order of wheat toast.

Waitress: I'm sorry. We don't have any side orders of toast. I'll give you an English muffin or a coffee roll.

Dupea: What do you mean you don't make side orders of toast? You make sandwiches, don't you?

Waitress: Would you like to talk to the manager?

Palm Apodaca: Hey, Mac . . .

Dupea: [to Apodaca] Shut up. [to the waitress] You've got bread and a toaster of some kind?

Waitress: I don't make the rules.

Dupea: Okay, I'll make it as easy for you as I can. I'd like an omelette, plain, and a chicken salad sandwich on wheat toast, no mayonnaise, no butter, no lettuce, and a cup of coffee.

Waitress: A number two, chicken sal san, hold the butter, the lettuce, and the mayonnaise, and a cup of coffee. Anything else?

Dupea: Yeah. Now all you have to do is hold the chicken, bring me the toast, give me a check for the chicken salad sandwich, and you haven't broken any rules.

Waitress: You want me to hold the chicken, huh?

Dupea: I want you to hold it between your knees. 

Love that scene.

National Sandwich Generation Month. 

Thanks to Carol Abaya, a leading educator in this field, the “sandwich generation” term became part of Webster’s Dictionary in 2006, although it was originally coined by Dorothy A. Miller in 1981. Sandwich Generation Month was established in 2007 and is officially registered within the National Special Events Registry as an annual national observation, occurring each July. It was created and sponsored by Griswold Special Care, a placement agency for specialized caregivers, to bring community awareness and support to those caring for both children as well as their own aging parents. This is the traditional definition of the term. 

Then with the Baby Boomers retiring, their parents living longer (and not always with the quality of life they desired) and Boomer’s children looking to them to help care for their young kids - the  “Club Sandwich” generation was born - caring for aging parents and grandchildren. 

Ironically, I had a club sandwich the other day. Served in precise layers, tested over time - toast, mayonnaise, lettuce, tomato, bacon and then repeated with a toothpick holding everything together - it is perfect. But once the toothpick is removed all hell breaks loose. First of all, it’s way too big to actually put the entire quarter section in my mouth. I attempt it anyway, which results in tomatoes shooting across the table, lettuce falling in my lap and mayonnaise dripping down my chin. I look like our 2 1/2 year old grandson after he has finished his peanut butter and jelly sandwich. The difference being that he could care less about his appearance while I am in the middle of a restaurant trying to clean up the mess before those at the next table notice and wonder why I didn’t just order a plain omelet and wheat toast like Jack Nicholson’s character. 

This got me to thinking about the Club Sandwich social dynamic in a new light. Helping to care for two other generations is like eating a club sandwich. It can be messy and the parts may not always stay intact but it is worth experiencing none the less. Let’s face it, for all who are going through this time, life becomes a balancing act. We have to learn how to manage our new found freedoms in retirement with these new responsibilities. There is the caring and nurturing of grandchildren within the context of their parents style and approach. The last part is very important. Sure, I would rather just cave-in to their hourly cookies and ice cream demands but that’s probably not going to go over too well on the home front - “Papa always says ok!”. Boy! And now with aging parent(s), there is a completely different need. They have given up their car (thankfully) and need to be taken to doctor’s appointments, the grocery store, church, the mall and to family events. They have lost their independence, which can be difficult for them to accept. While this can be challenging along with everything else going on in our lives, it’s good to remember one very important thing - they care and nurtured us for many years. Now - it’s our turn. 

At times one can feel pulled in many directions or our lives squeezed between one generation and the other. In the end, it’s all about family.

Someone said:

Life is like a sandwich - the more you add to it, the better it becomes. 

Pool Time

When my brothers and me were young, my Grandpa H. took us to the Masonic Temple in a small town in northeastern Iowa. It was like stepping into another world. The strange Freemason symbol above the door - The Square and the Compass - was just the beginning. The narrow entry opened up to a large, dimly-lit room, lined with book shelves filled with what I imagined to be ancient writings that only those wearing a red fez were permitted to be read. Thinking back it reminds me of what Hogwarts in the Harry Potter series would look like. Was there magic in this place?

Grandpa led us down a stairway to a room on the lower level. There, under low hanging lights was a mammoth oak pool table. It must have weighed a ton. It wasn’t going anywhere. 

The 6 pockets were made out of worn, criss-crossed leather pieces and stationed at the 4 corners of the table and half way on each side of it’s length. The green felt top was soft and, although it showed signs it was well used, looked magnificent. The 15 striped and solid balls were cradled in a triangular wooden rack at one end of the table. Had we known at the time that these balls were made of ivory (a practice that fortunately stopped in the early 1900s) we wouldn’t have wanted to play. Then again, we were in elementary school. 

He removed the rack with a deft precision leaving the balls clustered like a herd of sheep waiting for the shepherd to guide them on their way. It seemed as if they were shaking, huddled together knowing what was soon to come. 

The pool cues stood upright in a wooden wall rack. They were smooth and tapered like an enormous candle, the larger end wrapped in well-worn leather. How many hands held these mighty sticks over the years as the men talked about life in a small town while playing 8-ball? 

Grandpa removed one of the cues and seemed to admire it’s feel in his hands. This is the one, he seemed to say to himself. The white cue ball was placed at the opposite end of the table, just a shade to the right. He then moved it again, just slightly. We watched intently at his precision. 

Picking up a small square of soft, blue chalk that had been resting on the side of the table he carefully placed it over the tip of the pool cue, turning it in a familiar circular motion until it was perfect. The chalk was placed back on the side of the table.

He held the large end of the cue in his right hand and placed the small end between his forefinger and thumb, resting it on the middle finger. The tip of the cue slowly moved back and forth as he aimed at the cue ball. Without warning he struck it sharply. We jumped, not ready for the sound and ensuing chaos as the cue ball slammed into the waiting stripes and solids causing them to zig zag about the table at great speed. It was marvelous. When all the balls ceased moving, Grandpa asked us to look into each of the pockets. In all the madness of that first shot, we had missed seeing 3 balls end up in different pockets around the table - a red 3 ball, an orange and white striped 13 ball and a burgundy 7 ball. (Honestly I couldn't tell you how many or which balls were sunk. It was a very long time ago - so just go with me on this.) The remaining balls lay strewn about the green table - 4 solids (including the ominous black 8 ball), 5 stripes and the white cue ball. Game on. We were hooked. 

From then on, it was always one of the places we visited when seeing our grandparents. To this day, whenever I think of our many trips to this special place, I think of Meredith Willson's lyrics from The Music Man's, "Ya Got Trouble" - 

Ya got one, two, three, four, five, six pockets in a table.
Pockets that mark the diff'rence
Between a gentlemen and a bum,
With a capital "B,"
And that rhymes with "P" and that stands for pool! 

We were very lucky boys knowing the Grand Exalted and Lofty Poobah (Grandpa) that had keys to this magical world where he not only introduced us to the wonderful game of billiards, but also taught us how to be gentleman. Thanks Grandpa. 

Creatures of Comfort

We all have someone or something we turn to when we feel lost or a little out of sync. We look to our significant other most often for comfort and counsel. I also immerse myself in music or writing to soothe my soul. Each of you has your own answer for inner peace. 

It is no different for our grandchildren. Of course, they will seek out their Mom and Dad for the unconditional love and sanctuary that helps them deal with whatever it is that has created uncertainty or the imminent fear of the day. It’s also common that they develop a special bond with a “thing”. It is this object that is often the subject of hysterical melt downs if it cannot be found. Heaven forbid it was left at the mall or at a friends’ house. Worse yet....you have no idea where it is. This requires a herculean effort to retrace steps to retrieve the precious lost focus of their hysteria. The mission is clear - Don’t return without it! And I mean...DON’T! There is no alternative. At the same time we’re thinking - “its just that damn old ratty blanket for pete’s sake”. And you know what...our opinion means absolutely nothing. 

Love Monster has had her “Bees” since she was born. A gift from a good friend of our daughter’s. She couldn’t say bear so Bees stuck. It has been stitched up several times and washed sparingly lest it fall apart. And that would not be a good thing. When she gets home after school she runs to find Bees and sniffs the paw just to make sure it hasn’t been replaced with another bear. She is at ease. She has misplaced Bees on occasion and in the words of our daughter, “Oh, this is always bad”. It has been left at school and at a friend’s house and they must go get him. Recently, Smirker, her sister,  hid him and they looked everywhere until Smirker suggested, with a devilish grin, that they look in her backpack. And there he was. Love Monster was in tears - “I thought I’d  lost him. He is my best friend.”

Smirker has Cowie, a stuffed, now well used, cow (obviously!). But in a pinch her stuffed dog will do. She seems to be a little more flexible than Love Monster. She left Cowie at school one time but they had to leave him there overnight. I am sure there was just a little anxiety until she could see him the next day. 

Spiderman doesn’t just have one thing. He has his “stuff”. It includes a blue blanket, 2 brown pillows and a large sock monkey he calls Mick (an obvious reference to Mick Jagger because he is also skinny and has big lips). It is a package deal. His stuff is a must for his naps at our house and when he goes to bed at night. One day we forgot his blanket in our car when we took the boys home and we got a call that night from his Mom asking if we had it. Superman needed all his stuff. I found it in the car and took it over to his house and he was very thankful. The next day he said “it was sweet of me” to bring his blanket to him. Awwww.

Batman/Ball Boy was really into balls for awhile. He needed two, one for each hand, and they had to be the same size and usually the same color. He would reject one bigger ball or one blue and one green ball instantly, looking at us as if to say “do these look the same to you!”. He had a particular affinity for our blue dryer balls - yes, the spiky balls we put in our dryer to alleviate static electricity. They had to be the cleanest balls we had in the house and they probably smelled good. And you know, his blonde, curly hair seemed to be averse to standing on end as well. Hmmmm. Odd but very cute. Upon arrival at our house, he would immediately make his way up the stairs and point to the dryer waiting for us to retrieve his precious balls. He has now moved on to sleep sacks - his version of a blanket. Between his parents and us we must have 4 sleep sacks around to make sure he has one when he is feeling tired or out of sorts. It’s almost worth hiding it so we can hear his mournful plea. But we would never do that. 

As children, we looked to something that helped console us. And we all turn to something as adults that provides a ray of sunshine in our lives when the day seems just a little cloudy. We are all creatures of comfort.

The Happiest Place On Earth

It has been said that it is “the happiest place on earth”. Especially for the young. I know, because I have seen it in their eyes. The first time was years ago when we took our daughter and son to Disney World. It just happened to be the 15th anniversary of the park and we were fortunate to be a part of this grand celebration. Yes, it was wall-to-wall families with strollers and, yes, it was the definition of sensory overload. So much to see, so much to take in. The sights, sounds and smells truly can be overwhelming, particularly for the little ones. If we saw one child crying or in the middle of a mega melt down, we saw ten more along with their mortified parents and siblings trying to get them back on the “isn’t-this-the most-fun-place-ever” track. 

Wait...didn’t I say this is the happiest place on earth? In the end it is, but that is the nature of so much stimulation regardless of the setting. It seems to be magnified in a place like this. It’s just a part of the package. 

Our kids were 10 and 6 at the time so they were pretty much into the experience the whole time. After all, they did have to make sure their parents (also first time Disney guests) didn’t leave them at the Princess’s Castle or the cotton candy stand while making a beeline in their excitement for the Biergarten or Yorkshire County Fish Shop in the World Showcase at Epcot. They kept us reined in - mostly. 

The highlight had to be the Festival of Fantasy Parade held each afternoon. When we entered the park in the morning, a young man with a clipboard asked us where we were from and if we wanted to be in the parade that day. We said we were from Illinois and making our first trip to Disney World...and who wouldn’t want to be in the parade! Little did we know that when we showed up at the appointed parade spot we were ushered into one of 6 convertibles, ours stenciled with ILLINOIS on the side. We were not just in the parade, we were in one of 6 cars LEADING the parade as representatives of the Midwest. The icing on the cake was that they periodically announced the names of each of the families in the convertibles to the crowd lining the streets. My wife and I were pretty pumped up about this but you should have seen the faces of our kids. This place IS truly amazing. (Like this would happen every time we would come to Disney World.) Savor the moment.

Then just a month ago, we took our daughter, her husband, Love Monster and Smirker to Disneyland for 2 days in celebration of Love Monster’s 8th birthday. They were very excited. Disney really knows how to make this an unforgettable experience. For those attending Disneyland for the first time, they get a “1st Visit” button. So they both got those. Love Monster also received a Birthday button with her name on it. Their staff is very well trained because everywhere Love Monster went for 2 days, she was greeted with a “Happy Birthday!” - from the popcorn stand guy to the person picking up trash to the Tigger character to the Princess in the parade as she stood high above on the float. Love Monster was thrilled. “Everyone knows my birthday”, she would say. It was fun to see her so happy. 

And then there were the rides....

They both loved Autopia. The thrill of “driving” a car at their age is understandable. Grandpa and Grandma were just along for the ride...as well as controlling the accelerator.

Smirker couldn’t get enough of It’s a Small World - 4 times! And it’s long ride - 15 minutes! During that time you could download Windows 7 (ok, that was 5 years ago), watch a Ted Talk, do the 7-minute workout twice, make Crescent Roll Calzones or hear almost all of either In-A-Gadda-Da-Vita (Iron Butterfly) or Close to the Edge (Yes). You could also mediate, which I think I may have done after trip #2. By the 4th time, Smirker was acting as a personal tour guide for those riding with her. The song does stay in your head for hours, if not days!. She also liked the Teacups, visiting with the princesses and, of course, Mickey.

The Birthday Girl’s favorite was Alice In Wonderland. A bit of a surprise, given that it is mostly in the dark with our car darting and turning quickly, seeing the cheshire cat’s grinning face and the queen of hearts yelling “off with her head”. But she loved it. She also liked the teacups and Robinson Crusoe’s Treehouse (climbing and running are right up her alley). She almost went on The Pirates of the Caribbean. After waiting in line for more than 30 minutes with all of us, she made the predictable move by bailing out (with Grandpa) just before going into the ride. Predictable because her mother had done exactly the same thing many years earlier at a different Disney park. Apparently, it is genetic with first borns. 

I don’t know if it’s really the happiest place on earth but it certainly is worth seeing the smiles on their faces the first time they experience it. 

This grandparents gig is pretty cool!

After School at the Snack Shop

We are coming to the end of our 3rd annual trip to the West Coast to get away from the midwest winter for a couple of months. We are going to miss so many things - wearing shorts in January, the cool mornings and evenings, the crystal blue skies against the mountain ridges, going to the race track on Thursdays (free for seniors!), taking long walks at the arboretum, patio dining and most importantly, spending time with our daughter, her husband and our granddaughters. 

One of the things we enjoy most is picking up Love Monster and Smirker from their after school programs and bringing them back to our “cottage” for after school snacks.

By the time they get to the cottage, you would have thought that their mother didn’t feed them breakfast or pack a lunch. (FYI - Their mother is so not that kind of mother and their lunch boxes are empty.) And yet...the cottage becomes an after school smorgasbord or all-you-can-eat buffet! Let’s see...today it was popcorn, lemonade with sparkling water, of course (hope this doesn’t lead to a hankering for champagne), followed by bagels with cream cheese (2) and yogurt. Keep in mind dinner is just 90 minutes away. But then again we are their visiting Napa and Nama. Maybe I’ll run out for In N Out Burgers to top off their pre-dinner meal!

As we make our way over to their Mom’s apartment FOR DINNER, Smirker says “I love going to the Snack Shop”. She means the cottage but maybe we should just go with that. I kinda like it. 

We will miss afternoons at the Snack Shop with Love Monster and Smirker. And everyone and everything else about this home away from home while the snow flies and thermometer drops back in the midwest. 

But then Spiderman and Ball Boy are waiting for us to return. We can’t wait. And I guess snow-shoeing could be fun. Couldn't it?