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? 

The Secret Society of School

There is something going on at Love Monster, Smirker and Spiderman's schools. Every one of them. And I am convinced that all parents and grandparents have experienced this feeling one time or another. Equipped with their Elsa or Anna, Star Wars or Batman backpacks, we see them off at school, give them a hug, wave and tell them we will see them after school. Sometimes they look back with a smile and wave. Other times they simply turn and race to the door and are gone - inside the place that is their own for the next few hours.

There is something clandestine, hush-hush and mysterious about this place they call "school". Don't you think? I just know it because when we ask them what they did at school, the responses are eerily the same:
 
"Nothing."

or better yet -

   "I can't tell you."

Seriously, they can't tell us?

Did you color? Draw? (A blank stare.)
Did you work on you numbers? Letters? (I can almost read Love Monster's mind - "My Lips are sealed!"
Did you read? Play with your friends? (Smirker just looks at you with her patented sly grin - but says nothing)

What is going on inside this building? What do they do all day long? Most of us will simply push it aside thinking there is just so much going on that it's hard for a he/she to come up with something specific or there was nothing particular worth talking about. But maybe....just maybe, it's something else!

Sooner or later our (ok, my) mind begins to let the imagination go wild. Do they put their backpacks and coats in their cubby and enter a secret passage way for their real lessons? Have they taken an oath not tell anyone (except their friends) what really goes on at school? Are they being trained as spies? (Grambo has nothing on Secret Agents 0208 (Love Monster), 0918 (Smirker) or 1204 (Spiderman). Have they sworn secrecy to their handlers...I mean, teachers?

Maybe they are being trained as astronauts? Or Code Breakers to solve the world's hacking crimes?

When I ask Spiderman what he had for a snack, he ignores the question and asks if we can go see some freight trains. What are they feeding them instead of pretzels, carrots or other foods that kids aren't allergic too? Is it some kind of lab created goo like the astronauts get to prepare them for god knows what?

School can be a mystery sometimes. But not because of my silly musings, as far out and absurd as they might be.

Up until their introduction to formal schooling, their lives have been indelibly intertwined with their care givers. They are together all the time. Love Monster, Smirker and Spiderman (and all other kids) now have something that is their own. Something that their parents or grandparents aren't a part of for those few hours. And they choose to hold it close. They are growing up.

And that is more than Ok. But we will still ask them what they did at school. Maybe they will slip up and reveal the wonders of the day.

From Batman to Ballboy

Sounds like the sad tale of a baseball player's precipitous and unlikely decent from superstardom to a position generally held by the teenage son of someone high up in the team's organization.

But, it's really about a new name I have given to our 18 month old grandson. Most toddlers like balls but Ballboy has place The Ball on a pedestal above almost anything else.

As the essential feature of many forms of play, usually requiring physical exertion, the ball is nearly as old as civilization itself. Some form of game with a ball is found portrayed on Egyptian monuments. Like few other playthings, the ball facilitates and promotes free play among people of all ages. A rolling object appeals not only to people but to a kitten or puppy. In 2009, the Ball was inducted into the Toy Hall of Fame located in Rochester, NY. I say - what took them so long?! Play-Doh, Etch-a-Sketch, The Frisbee, G.I.Joe and the Jack-in-the-Box all made it in before the Ball. The Etch-a-Sketch is amazing, but really - before the ancient and ubiquitous ball?

Ballboy likes balls of all shapes, sizes and colors but has become particularly attached to these small rubber balls we picked up at the local toy store. They were on sale, 3 for $.80 vs. the regular price of $8.00 (who would pay that much for 3 Angry Bird balls?), so we snatched up a few of them. They are the size of a golf ball fitting perfectly in each of Ballboy's hands and he carries them everywhere - around the house, while sitting in his car seat and even while he is eating (food in one hand and a ball in the other). I think he feels some comfort in clenching them in his tiny hands.

The other day he figured out that he can actually carry 3 at one time by placing one under his chin! Very inventive Ballboy! I think he has has the potential to one day be listed in the Guinness Book of World Records as the youngest juggler. The only problem is that to juggle you actually have to throw them in the air - something Ballboy is not willing to do. Once he has them in his grip, he won't let go. This can be hazardous to his health. A couple of times after he first learned to walk, he was moving too fast and fell over right on his nose. But do you think he would let go of those red and green balls still in his hands? Much to our surprise, they can also actually avert injury. One day he was carrying a large ball in both hands and took an ill-advised step off the driveway on to our brick patio. By not letting go of the ball, he merely bounced off the stones and got up without a scratch.

One day I asked his brother, Spiderman, what he wanted for lunch. Ballboy, who I think loves meal time as much as balls, looked over and said with total conviction - "ball". Spiderman went into apoplexy with laughter. He thought that was the funniest thing he had ever heard and, of course, made me repeat the conversation multiple times. Ballboy's first joke.

When he starts talking in more complete sentences, I wouldn't be surprised to hear him say -
"Did you hear the one about the ball that rolled into the bar...?"

Grandfodder - Plus 1 Year

It's been a year since I started this journey and I have found it rewarding and challenging. In my initial research I couldn't find any blogs out there in the internet universe from the grandfather's viewpoint. But then again, I can be cyberspace - challenged! I did eventually find one comrade-in-arms in the UK. Check out Square Sunshine at http://square-sunshine.blogspot.co.uk. Some great writing and views not only about his grandchildren but about every day stuff. Thanks for the inspiration, MH.

After a year of writing, I have found that the subject matter has evolved from being just about the grandchildren to include other things important to me as an aging (but still alive and curious) baby boomer. So while I will continue to write, sparked by my 4 grandchildren's adventures and pearls of wisdom, you will likely see some other topics sprinkled in when the spirit moves me. My daughter is right - writing is cathartic and something that just needs to be done. I am learning as I go. Thanks and love to my daughter.

A big hug and kiss to the 4 darlings that have motivated me by just being themselves - Love Monster, Smirker, Spiderman and Batman. You are the best.

And thanks to all those that have read my words during this experiment in letting go (I can just hear Love Monster and Smirker, singing "Let it Go, Let it Go".) Actually very apropos. I hope you continue to keep reading and let others know if you so choose.

Until next month - after our trip to Ireland! Another pint of Guinness please!

You Really Got Me

I recently read an article entitled "It's Not Music To Your Ears?"It focused on several studies that have been done indicating there are people who are indifferent to music. They have no physical response nor do they feel any emotional pleasure in hearing music. It's not that they have an inability to distinguish pitch or tones (known as Amusia), but these people simply do not like music. They don't seek it out nor do they own any music. It's called Music Anhedonia. One person surveyed said listening to music was exhausting and likened it to going to the gym!

I was astonished - flabbergasted - speechless. I could not wrap my mind around this phenomena. I guess it makes sense that, like everything else, not everyone will like a particular idea or thing. But I simply cannot identify with anyone that doesn't care for music at all. Ironically, I had been considering writing about my love of music and this article helped provide an additional perspective.

Now I am not a professional musician. I am not proficient with any instrument although I love to play around with both the piano and hammered dulcimer. I enjoy singing in the church choir but as a member of the chorus only and not as a soloist. I have not studied music on an academic level. But I have a real appreciation and heart felt passion for music.

What is it about music that evokes a positive, pleasurable response? More interesting to me - why do people respond on different levels to the marriage of carefully crafted tones and lyrics - even to the same song?

Many of us respond instantly to a certain song because of the beat or rhythm. It's catchy. We all like patterns. Some like the melody. Some may find the lyrics resonate with them. Still others like a song because it, or more likely the artist, is fashionable or trendy (#1 on iTunes). Then there is the song that brings back memories of high school, college or a certain boy or girl. We all have those.

I am well aware that all music is not beautiful, meaningful nor makes one feel good. There are plenty of tunes that fail to strike a chord within me - one way or the other. And there are those that make my stomach churn every time I hear them on the radio. I can't change the channel fast enough. I suspect my wife finds it annoying that I feel the need to go from station to station until I eventually stop -  because I am now content with what I am hearing. God knows I need something soothing while I drive, although that's another story.

For me, there have been countless songs over the years that have made me want to hear them over and over again. Just some of those on the brink of perfection -

- Anything from The Byrds (my favorite band of all time)
- Van Morrison - Coney Island or Rave on John Donne (it's the poet in me)
- Nora Jones - Come Away With Me (joy in my heart)
- Dire Straits/Mark Knopfler - Local Hero/Wild thing (heavenly guitar)
- Bon Iver - Beth/Rest (check out Justin Vernon's music and lyrics)
- Pink Floyd - Comfortably Numb (amazing guitar again)
- Sarah McLachlan - Angel or Answer (beautiful)
- K.D. Lang - Simple (or anything from 49th Parallel)
- Bruce Hornsby - Fortunate Son/Comfortably Numb Medley (genius)
- AC/DC - Thunderstruck (no one plays the guitar as simply and as voraciously as Angus Young)
- John Rutter - Requiem - The Lord is My Shepherd (heavenly)
- Handel - Messiah - Hallelujah Chorus (spiritual and timeless)

Just a few that bring joy to my hear....and a window of what is on my iPod.

But have you ever heard a song and the moment the music starts you become completely lost in it? Nothing else around you matters. Your mind seems to become one with the song - captivated by every note, every word, every nuance and pattern to the music, wondering how it is possible for it to even exist, to have been created? I know others are not hearing the song like I am. There are 3 pieces of music (so far) that have struck me in this way:

#1 - It was the summer of 1964. I was with my family just returning from a vacation in our Ford station wagon. In fact, we were pulling into our driveway and I was listening to WLS on my transistor radio (remember those?) and they are playing for the first time a song by a British group called The Kinks - "You Really Got Me". With that penetrating 5 note riff, I was hooked. I couldn't get my parents to open the door fast enough so I could turn on our radio and hear it at a much higher decibel level! And I still love hearing it 50 years later. How is that possible? That was the first time.

#2 - It was 1991. I was with my wife and our 2 children vacationing in Stratford, Ontario, Canada to see Shakespearean theater. We were in a small shop in downtown Stratford looking at novelty items and such when I hear this music playing that I just couldn't let go of - ethereal, haunting, like nothing I had heard before. And the nightingale voice - strong, piercing, enchanting. It was the first time I had experienced goosebump-inducing music. The song was "The Old Ways" from the album The Visit by Loreena McKennitt, a Canadian born singer/songwriter. I also listened to Bonny Portmore and Cymbeline before my family wisked me away. The beauty of her music was and is rooted in my soul. I listen to her musical voyages whenever I need a good dose of serenity.

#3 - It was Christmas time in 2012 and we were invited to a holiday gathering by our financial advisor. The entertainment was provided by a local chorus and their program included, along with various popular lay and sacred holiday music, a piece of music unknown to me - "Sure On This Shining Night". It is based on a 1934 poem by James Agee. The rapturous, flowing music was composed by Morten Lauridsen. I was, and am, forever changed somehow by hearing its' harmonies and lyrics. My favorite version of this piece is by The University of Utah Singers. Please check it out and listen. I don't know why, but it brings me to tears every time I hear it. It is the most beautiful song I have ever experienced.


Sure On This Shining Night

Sure on this shining night
Of star made shadows round,
Kindness must watch for me
This side the ground.
The Late year lies down the north.
All is healed, all is health.
High summer holds the earth.
Hearts are whole.
Sure on this shining night I weep for wonder wand'ring far
alone
Of shadows on the stars.

Why do I feel what I feel about any particular song - be it indifference, misery or pleasure?
I honestly don't have an answer. And perhaps there is no answer. It just is....music....

You Really Got Me!

Faster Than A Speeding Bullet....

When I first think of Superman my memories go to the introduction of the original 1950's Adventures of Superman TV show:

- faster than a speeding bullet,
- more powerful than a locomotive,
- able to leap tall buildings with a single bound

He's an action figure, a hero, a DOER.

I would not describe Superman as a WATCHER.

This "Superman", our Spiderman, however, is 3 1/2 years old. Still, it seems that sometimes (often) he is moving faster than a speeding bullet as he travels through our house, our back yard, the mall and the park. While maybe not as strong as a locomotive, he is an avid train lover. And, yes, I swear he has jumped over the couch, 2 chairs, a toy wagon and the piano without breathing heavy as he yells "run, Papa, run". There is a boundless energy in this one! And like Clark Kent he has his cautious, methodical side as well. Although he doesn't wear glasses and I have never seen him enter a phone booth. But then again, he would have no idea what a phone booth is. I only have vague recollections of that bygone convenience.

In any case, he has been enrolled in a couple of classes through the local park district and it's been an adventure to see how he establishes his own rules for "going to class".  His other grandparents took him to the first class which was held in a large room with a stage up front. They took a series of pictures which show Spiderman's way of assimilating into the group. The first picture shows Spiderman sitting cross-legged facing the stage a good 30 feet from the rest of the group. Because he is the only one in the frame, it looks like he is taking a personal meditation class! The second picture, 15 minutes later, shows him only 10 feet from the rest of the group - still separated but he's gaining on them. He must be feeling a little more comfortable after gauging what's been going on between the instructor and the other kids. But he's not just ready to jump in with both feet. The last picture shows him fully engaged with the group. He eventually told his grandma to leave the room. He came, he saw, he conquered! Well something like that.

The most recent series of classes took place at a small local zoo. It involved the zoo educator reading a story to the group, doing a craft project about an animal and then actually getting to see an animal up close and personal. The first day I said, "It's time for class", to which he replied with his arms folded and his eyes focused on the ground, "No... no...no want to go to class!" I countered this response by saying, "ok, we won't go to class, we will just watch". He thought for a second and said "ok".  Chalk one up for Papa! He listened to the story at the back of the room and quickly did the craft (I think it was more Papa's craft). He was very excited to see what animal they had in the box. First there was the blue tongued skink. He was fascinated with it's name and was the only one wanting to actually touch it. The following weeks he got to see a Walking Stick, a horse (whch was not in a box!) and his favorite - a snake - a black rat snake to be specific. He loved "petting" it. He asked the lady if he was going to a snake every week. No surprisingly, his grandma was nowhere to be found!

As he ran towards the lady with the snake, I could swear I saw him unbuttoning his jacket revealing a large "S" on his shirt underneath. But maybe that was just my imagination. It does also stand for Spiderman.

Remembering Dad

If ever a kind soul walked this earth, it was Dad. He has been gone for over 6 years but I still think of him nearly every day. He preferred a kind word rather than railing on about the negative things that inevitably arise in one's life. And whenever we were together, his smile would always brush away any ill feelings one might have. I have this picture of him standing, smiling, relaxed in his naval uniform, hat in hand, on the day I was born. He was far away but had his buddies take his picture that day. The note on the back simply states "RBH (his initials) in Naples, Italy October 7, 1947 - day that message came to U.S.S. Leyte, CV-22, of Lee's birth."

He became a teacher. And he taught well. He cared about his students - not just when they were juniors   in high school but throughout their lives. Over the years, we heard many stories from students about how much they enjoyed being in his class. At reunions they made a point of saying hello and thanking him for his guidance and the passion he put into the art of teaching. Interestingly enough many of those were the same students that he failed and yet somehow managed to instill the importance of learning along with their self worth regardless of class grade. A true gift.

He also taught my brothers and me as well. I would not consider him a strict disciplinarian but when needed he got his message across in a way that showed us what was "right" and that he had faith in us to do better the next time. He was a very intelligent and thoughtful man. Yes, he was an academic but he conveyed what he learned both in books and in life in a way we could all understand and appreciate. That's probably why his students thought so highly of him as well. He was an amazing communicator, both verbally and in writing. He (like my Mother, still) was a letter writer par excellence. He would never write an email (even if he had a computer - which he didn't). That would simply be too impersonal. We all loved receiving notes, gift cards or letters from Dad. Maybe that is where I received my love of poetry. One of his many gifts to me. His writing was so lyrical and carefully crafted. Our daughter attributes much of her love of writing (in addition to her gift) to her Grandpa H. He had a wonderful sense of humor - Laurel and Hardy and Sid Caesar were his favorites. We treasure any of his writings we still have, especially the serendipitous ones. For instance:

We used to check on my parents house when they were out of town and he would set up the kitchen table to make any would-be burglar think twice about entering the house - cereal bowls, plates, coffee cups and ash tray with fake cigarette (he used to smoke) all displayed with precision. When we went over their one time to check on the house he had also added the following note in his distinctive handwriting - "He finished his cereal, had a cup of coffee, smoked a cigarette and then he disappeared..."     What?

On another occasion, they stopped by to take our dog for a walk while we were gone. The following note was on our counter -  "I took Molly out for a walk. She dug a hole on the edge of the street and buried 2 snausages; but we filled it in with crushed rock. See ya later."

We couldn't wait for the next gem.

He was a gifted storyteller as well. We all remember the escapades of Dr. Hugo Von Eckner, Mr. Murdock (who lived under the bed), Erma Pilcher and the fiery Faruzzio Mazzioli. You had to be there.

He was all a child, young man and adult could want for a father - kind, caring, intelligent, humerous, devoted and loving. It is all I can do to try and be as good a father as he was to me. Still working on that.

Thank you Dad.