Grandparenting from a distance.....

Our granddaughter, Eva, who lives in St. Louis, spent a few days with us in early August. Her father was very busy attending a convention, so we did not get to see much of him, but we saw lots of Eva. Over the past year since our return from Mexico, we have spent time with Eva on four different occasions. Not nearly enough, but we are grateful. We learned before she visited that Eva's goal when she came to Minneapolis was to go to the beach, and she arrived with a large blue pail packed in her suitcase. Grandma Juju took Eva to Cedar Lake and Harry and I took her to Lake Harriet.

One night, after a busy day of grand-parenting, we put Eva to bed at 8:30 and tucked ourselves in at nine. I think we were more exhausted than she was. As long distance grandparents, we found our stamina lacking. I kept thinking how fun it would be to have this amazing little child live closer to us. Many of our friends have grandchildren who do live close by, and I am jealous. These friends have all developed grand-parenting stamina and fun routines with their grandchildren, creating deep bonds likely to last a lifetime. Some of these friends even jumped into babysitting their grandchildren on a daily basis, and some jumped out of doing so after a few months.

I had a very close relationship with my paternal grandparents while growing up. My Dad was an only child, and his four daughters became beloved grandchildren to his parents. My grandparents always made me feel that I was cherished and an important part of their lives. When my sister Cate and I were little, we had many routine things we did with our Grandpa and Grandma, things I remember fondly to this day. We ate hamburgers at the Town Talk Diner on Lake Street (which was on the National Register of Narrow Restaurants), and Grandma made us a special tomato soup at her house. We had overnight visits, and Grandma played Chutes and Ladders with my sister and me for hours. Grandpa took us sliding in the winter, and in the summer he took us to a long-gone little amusement park near Minnehaha Falls called Queen Anne Kiddie Land. The park included pony rides, and being the rather timid child that I was, I remember my Grandfather picking me up and putting me on a pony, not leaving my side for a moment as the ponies went round and round. My grandparents were the anchors in the tumultuous, scary sea which was my childhood. Their constant, predictable presence in my childhood lessened the ravages of life with an alcoholic parent.

My daughter's grandmother lived next door to us when Alexis was growing up. For me, living next door to my mother-in-law wasn't always easy, but Alexis loved having Grandma next door. Grandma Alice and Alexis had years of special meals, books, and movies they enjoyed together. They continue their close bond today. It wasn't until after my own mother, Lily, died that Alexis filled me with stories about what a wonderful grandmother my mom was. I couldn't have been prouder of my daughter when, at age 16, she insisted she wanted to speak at Grandma Lily's funeral and play on her violin the theme from Ken Burns's Civil War, the Shogun's Farewell.

The best part of grand-parenting is the knowledge that you can just enjoy your grandchildren, and not have the responsibility of raising them. All the perks, none of the hard work. Many grandparents however, for a multitude of reasons, have to raise their grandchildren, and that is very hard work. Talk about needing stamina! As a grandparent, you are bound to think you know things about parenting that your children don't know. The sorts of things you realize you've learned when you have years and years to look back over: hindsight I guess you would call it. You hope your children will not make the same mistakes you did as a parent, and you work hard to keep your mouth shut when you see your kids parenting differently than you did. You decide to give advice only if asked; and the odds of being asked are slim, which is probably a good thing. Each generation has it's own unique parenting challenges. As Hastings Banda, leader of the infamous Mau-Mau, once said: "We want the right to misgovern ourselves." Which, of course, he did get and made full use of.

One thing I do know about my own parenting is that I did not appreciate my daughter's childhood nearly enough. As a young parent, I always had so much to do and to worry about. When Eva was in her bath every night on her recent visit, I took the time to watch her delight in the bubbles and the toys I had bought her for the beach that she insisted were great when doubling as bath toys. We read lots of stories before she went to sleep, and Grandpa and I had the luxury of having lots of time on our hands to just enjoy her and, yes, spoil her. (She got french fries whenever she wanted them, which was every night.)

I have vivid and cherished memories of my daughter playing her violin on our front porch many an evening during the summer months while she was growing up. One night, when she was in high school, I remember standing in the kitchen listening to her play, and I found myself thinking I wanted these moments to go on forever. I cried then because I knew these days were soon to be over, and cry now when I think of her playing so beautifully out on that porch as the day went from dusk to darkness. The good thing was that I at least had the sense to know that this profoundly simple event was one to appreciate in the moment. Too many other wonderful moments went unappreciated. Grand-parenting gives you another chance to get things right.

And who knows, maybe, just maybe, I will someday have a grandchild who will play violin too. We don't have our own porch here at the condo, but there is a porch just below us which residents share. I don't think the residents here would mind an occasional summer concert played by our grandchild. And if they do mind, well, too bad for them. I will be listening from my window two stories up with tears in my eyes.

Blessed are those who are lucky enough to be grand-parents, no matter the distance.

Not so gently...

When I was in my 30s and 40s, I belonged to a health club in Eden Prairie called Flagship. This was a fancy club with all sorts of posh amenities like warm towels, fancy soaps and lotions, and dressing rooms that made you feel like you wished your house could be as nice. Those were the days when workout attire was posh as well, and women at Flagship arrived in expensive, colorful leotards with matching sports bras and tights. The aerobics classes were very popular and the goal was to sweat long and hard while looking stylish.

My favorite aerobics class back then was rebounding. Rebounding was simple: you bounced on a mini-trampoline for an hour as music blasted. The instructor, wearing her little microphone attached to her colorful outfit on her amazing figure, encouraged you to lift those knees higher and higher. You not only bounced sky-high wishing your legs could look like hers, you found yourself high on endorphins very quickly. After a few years, the club called Flagship got rid of the rebounding class because people kept flying off and breaking their ankles. My heart broke when they did this. I dropped my club membership, saved a bundle of money, and took up the inexpensive sports of walking, biking, or cross country skiing around Lake Harriet, a few blocks from my house. I used to joke that I should have my ashes dumped in Lake Harriet because I have gone around it so many times.

Today, the club Harry and I belong to is not posh by any means, but it does have the advantage of being a five-minute drive from our condo. It is inexpensive, and you have to bring your own towels. I tried Pilates and Spin classes for a few months when we joined LA Fitness a year ago and then the arthritis hit and I had to change course. We had a wonderful personal trainer for several months, but Harry and I broke down physically when we returned from Mexico, and Joe had moved on to a better paying job. We spent several months on the couch nursing our aches and pains. Harry had taken a bad fall playing racquetball with his dear friend Brian, (or boy friend, as Brian's wife Vicki might refer to the relationship), and I had come down with an arthritic neck and knee. (By the way, tonight we're cooking fancy Italian from the cookbook Ivan and Joanna gave us for Christmas, in honor of Brian and Vicki's 25th wedding anniversary: congratulations, y'all. By the time they reciprocate, Harry will be in his mid-80s, and they'll have to make porridge!) After a few months, we decided it was time to get up off the couch. We now have been training twice a week for two months with a young woman named Alexandra, and I swim or use the elliptical machine or treadmill another two days each week. Harry walks on water: a secret gift that, he has decided, it is now time to reveal to the world (though I've always known that about him).

Alex is in her early twenties and her positive personality and knowledgeable style have been a true blessing at this time in our lives. Finding the motivation to exercise is extremely difficult, but knowing Alex is expecting us gets us out the door. Alex seems to have a lot of older clients, and she told Harry her parents, who are in their early 60s, do strength training every week. She is gentle and kind but tough as nails. I find myself doing exactly what she tells me to do even though it is so hard. In the two days following a 30-minute session with her, I experience pain in muscles I never knew I had. Swimming on the days I don't work-out with Alex helps with those aching muscles. My chiropractor told me swimming is the best exercise for arthritis. The reality is you have to keep moving even when you have arthritic pain. Not always the easiest thing to do.

In my thirties and forties, my exercise goal was to lose weight and look good in those colorful exercise outfits. Now, a couple of decades later, my goal is just to keep moving. How things change! My exercise attire is all black because it helps you look thinner, and it is anything but stylish. In fact I look pretty frumpy-dumpy and I couldn't care less. On a bad day when it is difficult to move toward my goals, I summon some motivation by reminding myself that I have two maternal aunts who are close to ninety and still going strong. Neither of them has arthritis, but I may have their longevity genes. The thought of being able only to sit in a chair for a decade, or more like Harry's mom who has arthritis in her knees and is unable to walk, scares me to death. How would I get out to go shopping?

Everyday movements have become easier now. Just getting up off the floor without help or putting on my shoes without pain is a major accomplishment. Even on the days when the last thing I want to do is swim or workout with Alex, I do it because I know what will happen if I don't. Once I get to the club and start to work out, those endorphins kick in and I have a lot less overall pain. The arthritis hit me fast and hard and I figure I have to hit back just as fast and hard or it will take me down.

I am also, as my father used to say, "living better through chemistry." I have searched the web and talked with my doctor, chiropractor, and future son-in law Curtis, the health guru, about medications that may help. I am now taking almost as many pills a day as Harry. I am also drinking alkaline water. Curtis and my Cabo friend Liz believe less acidity is a key factor to combating your body's natural tendency to deteriorate. Actually, only one of the pills I take is prescription. The others capsules I swallow each day are over the counter: fish oil, flax oil, glucosamine/chondroitin, B-Complex with vitamin C, and calcium with vitamin D-3 suggested by my chiropractor. I now wear only shape-up shoes which improve my slumping posture and seem to help to stabilize my arthritic neck. I bought a contour pillow that seems to help too. I hope my exercise regime is helping the muscles in my leg prepare for the inevitable knee replacement that so many of us baby boomers will be facing. Getting old is a lot of work!

If nothing else, I am not settling into that easy chair or onto that couch without a fight, or as Dylan Thomas said, "do not go gently into that good night." Lake Harriet may get my ashes someday, but those ashes will be from an old, but toned body.

PS. I know I'm old because I talk so much about my health!

Learning to navigate at an early age....

Bob Dylan said it best: "The times they are a-changin" ...." My recent battles with technology have convinced me that it is never too early to begin learning to use all those I's: IPad, IPod, IPhone etc. etc., and young parents today know this. While in the security line at the Minneapolis airport on my way to Chicago in July, I saw a baby in a stroller with an IPad on her lap. At first I could not believe what I seemed to be seeing. The baby was no older than two and her fingers were dashing about the screen with purposeful intent. Her mother had her snugly belted into her stroller, and she was so focused on her I-Pad that she had no time to fuss or cry like the other babies in the line, because she had some learning going on!

I had been quietly congratulating myself on my technical savoir-faire. I had printed up our e-tickets at home the night before my sister and I flew to Chicago. The baby will probably be doing that on her next trip. I found myself a bit befuddled at the airport computer as I tried to check in and pay for the bag I wanted checked. There is always a nice airline employee close by to guide you through your befuddlement; but this time my sister, 7 years my junior and really techno-savvy, was there to assist me. I can tolerate the pretzels the airlines now refer to as lunch: I just hope they never economize to the point where they eliminate those helpful employees that swoop in to help you with your ineptitude at the computer screens.

I spent several hours yesterday trying to navigate a web site that my health coverage mandated I use to track my exercise program for two months. Should I fail to do this, the co-pay for my doctor visits will go up by one third. I had to call for technical assistance three times as I tried entering my data on the web site. At one point, I found myself near tears or near screaming, and I asked the polite young women helping me what it is like trying to help us grey hairs. She politely confessed that it was challenging. Towards the end of my two-hour session entering my "data", I realized it wasn't all that difficult, just a painful learning curve that ate up a lot of time. I have no trouble with the idea that it is good for people to take responsibility for their health, and for sure, being physically active is important as one ages. Maybe people old and young who do not take good care of themselves should pay more in health care costs, but an older person should not be penalized for being computer-challenged.

I do not have an I-Phone, partly due to my secret fear of this amazing device. My sister is in love with hers, and when we were in Chicago together, she gave me the hard sell, introducing me to some of the the cool apps she has downloaded and insisting that I too would love them. I told her I could probably skip learning to play Angry Birds, but some of the apps did indeed seem great. The truth was that her I-Phone helped us easily solve some of our travel woes in Chicago.

I try hard to fight my fear and keep an open mind with regard to all the technology that permeates life today. I can now use pretty well the teacher smart-boards in the classrooms I sub in, and I was one of the first in line when the Kindles were introduced years back. Yesterday, while riding up on our building elevator, I noticed that the 80-plus gentleman who lives down our hallway had what looked like a Kindle in his hand. I asked him if it was a Kindle or a Nook and he said he wasn't sure, opening the cover to check. He said he really liked it.

My hairdresser, Natasha, who is 32, discussed the pros and cons of the Nook, Kindle, and I-Pad yesterday while she did my hair. Natasha said she found the Nook she recently purchased a real pain and she had returned it, planning to buy an I-Pad. She said I inspired her by always bringing my Kindle to my hair appointments. (Going blond is labor intensive, so I always have time to read while the foils are doing their work.) Being called technologically inspirational was a new one, and it was fun to be able to discuss the differences in these devices with a member of the younger generation.

I recently bought myself a MacBook Air computer after having used and coveted my friend Bill's Apple Computer in Florida for many years on our Thanksgiving visits. The turning point was while we were in St Louis in June, seeing the MacBook Air my stepson, Ivan, had. The very same day that I fell in love with Ivan's computer, Amazon sent me a great deal to buy this computer on line. Sold! My MacBook Air arrived a day after we returned home. I love, love, love, my new computer, and named her Gala: she is an apple after all.

I vividly remember having dinner in a nice restaurant on Harold Square in New York with Harry a couple of years back. We were seated at a small table, and noticed that right next to us was a vacant corner table. We asked the waitress if we could have that table instead. She said no, the table was reserved for a young couple who had just become engaged that very day. The couple promptly arrived with their I-Phones, and they spent the entire time talking and texting to their friends and family, barely speaking two words to each other. So much for a nice romantic engagement dinner. Harry commented that he didn't give much for their chances together -- but then he's just an old romantic himself! As Bob Dylan said, the times they are a-changin'.

Engaged!!! At Last!!!!

My daughter, Alexis came home from New York City this past week for a visit bringing her long time boyfriend, Curtis, with her. The pair have been together for for many years and have weathered a relationship storm that included a break-up which lasted several months. They are now engaged and plan to marry after Alexis completes grad school next May. A very happy time it is!!!

*I have been patient waiting for this engagement. I know from following Kate and Will's long term romance with all it's bumps, one must have faith. Curt and Lex will not be taking up residence in a castle but they are destined for happiness. They are my royal couple!

The martini miracle

This past week I was fortunate enough to able to experience Chicago as Chicago experienced it's highest temperatures in five years. Talk about luck! I had been to Chicago on a Minneapolis School District trip 15 years ago for a day and always wanted to return.

I was able to spend the first two days of my Chicago trip with my dear friends, Dick and Cindy. I met the Atkinsons back in my mid-twenties. Dick and Cindy love Chicago and visit every year in July. We were able to meet up this year in the Windy City. Dick and Cindy lived in downtown Chicago for several years before they married and moved to Minneapolis. I said it must have been quite a shock to move to Minneapolis after having lived in Chicago. Cindy said she feels she never recovered fully from the move and she looks forward to a Chicago fix every year.

On our first day of sightseeing, we walked along the street where Cindy and Dick had side-by- side apartments back in the 70s. The street they lived on reminded me of my favorite part of Manhattan, Chelsea, where, if I had millions of dollars, I would buy myself a little brownstone. Dick's and Cindy's Chicago address was a few blocks from the North Beach and a short hike to the river and downtown area. Their old Chicago neighborhood continues to be a nice combination of old and newer buildings. The apartment building is now condominiums and you would undoubtedly need a bundle of money to live on this lovely street today. Cindy and I spotted a for rent sign in one of the lovely old historic buildings. We joked we should rent it together so we could escape from our husbands once in a while.

We took a Chicago River tour boat ride together. Our young tour guide with the microphone had just completed a master's degree in history at Loyola University. He instructed us in Chicago history as we gazed at the amazing skyscraper architecture along the river. Back in my high school days I had a boyfriend who wanted to study architecture at the U of M. This boyfriend's favorite architect was Mies van der Rohe, and he used to show me pictures of the work of this iconic figure. Our tour guide pointed out three van der Rohe scrapers as we cruised down the river. The most recent Chicago skyscraper is the Trump Tower. The Donald, of course, had visions of building the highest skyscraper in Chicago, but Chicago said no to the man who is used to getting what he wants. Nice job on that one, Chicago. I guess money can't buy everything. Trump has enough ego for several people and doesn't need to have the tallest Chicago building on his list of "great" accomplishments. The boat took us out onto Lake Michigan where we could see the complete Chicago skyline. Beautiful!!!

The downtown parts of Chicago I saw seemed much younger and much cleaner than Manhattan. The mix of people didn't seem as melting-pot diverse as what you see in Times Square and I did not hear the variety of languages you hear on the Manhattan streets. The parks along the Lake Michigan waterfront are very imaginative, with sculpture and falling water. The above-ground "subway" in Chicago, known as the L, that races through the heart of the city is unique: noisy, but unique.

Day two, we went to the bar atop the famous Hancock building. Heights have never been my favorite thing and Dick feels the same way, hence the photo taken by Cindy of Dick and me on the 41st floor of the Hancock. Cindy, a former flight attendant, relishes heights . In the bar, she easily stepped over to lean against windows and look down for a better view. Contrarily, [Editor's note: I'm editing from Minneapolis, and I think she means "I, on the other hand;" but since she is quite capable of doing things from sheer contrariness, as we all know, I've left it in there!] I found myself immediately queasy as I stepped out of the high-speed elevator and saw the panoramic view. My friends informed me that I would feel much better after a martini, and sure enough, I did. (Don't we all feel better after a martini?) I swigged a cosmopolitan, stepped over to the windows and looked down: briefly, but I did it! Cindy thought we should top off the evening with a horse-and-buggy ride around the city, something I have always wanted to do in Central Park and have never done. Our horse, Pickles, pulled us in a carriage that had just been refurbished with blue velvet.

Seeing Chicago again after all these years was indeed fun but, the real treat was not Chicago. The real treat was being able to have my friends of 35 years all to myself for two days. We had to stop often in our sightseeing trek to get out of the heat and humidity. The stops gave us time to really talk and listen to one another. We talked about the old days, the present days and hopefully about the days to come. We stayed away from politics and that was good because it has never been a topic in which we find much common ground. Political discussions went better when I was married to a Republican. (I'm still not sure how that one happened.)

I think during these two fun days, each of us learned things about each other that we never knew: new details of the challenging childhoods we experienced and new details of the unexpected challenges we have confronted as adults. What a blessing and comfort it is to have cherished friends who love and support you through the years. I know Dick and Cindy love me even though I prefer CNN to Fox News. I know they will always be there for me with the support I may need facing the next challenges that life never fails to deliver. I will be there for them, too. Best of all we have not forgotten how much fun we have when we get together.



*of special note: I just discovered a "new" martini called the margarita martini. Dick and I tried them in a Chicago bar and they are delicious.

Chicago

I am heading off to Chicago early Monday morning and I will be blogging from the Windy City next week!

A new sports fan and amazing Irish hair

It all began with the purchase of a 40-inch flat-screen television shortly after we came back from Mexico last April. Since then I have spent hours and hours watching sporting events. This is personally shocking and rather embarrassing. I was always quick to criticize my Dad, who watched hours of football on weekends while I was growing up. Our family of seven had one television and Dad was the king of the television on the weekends. I hated football and never became interested in other televised sporting events. Now at age 60, I find myself watching a variety sports and not just on weekends.

The first sporting event I watched on our new flat screen was the World Cup held in South Africa last summer. I had wanted a large screen television for years, but could never rationalize the expense because my 25-year-old 27-inch Sony was doing just fine. The perfect rationalization occurred, however, when we came from Mexico. I told my badly-injured husband that we should buy a 40-inch flat-screen television so that he could watch the World Cup in style, soccer fan that he is. I told him he deserved a new big television after all he had been through. Sure enough, that was the trick, we were off to COSTCO with our credit card in no time flat.

It came as no surprise that I loved our new 40" flat-screen television. Who wouldn't? Then something unexpected happened. I found I enjoyed watching the World Cup as much as Harry did. I learned to appreciate the different styles of play exhibited by the teams from all over the world and I loved those crazy vuvuzuelas. Next, I told myself I was just going to stay in the living room long enough to hear Jim Neighbors croon his famous "My Indiana Home" at the Indy 500 that Harry was watching. The next thing I knew I was watching the entire race. One of the drivers, Helio Castronueves, had won on Dancing with the Stars last year and that was enough to peak my curiosity. The 2010 winner turned out to be the adorable Scotsman with the Italian name Dario Franchitti, who is married to the actress Ashley Judd. Ashley came running out onto the race track to congratulate her husband who was busy swigging down the traditional bottle of milk that the winner always has to drink. Charming!

Next came the Tour de France, which we are watching again this year. There is much to learn about the sport of cycling. I am at a loss to follow all the intricate rules of this 100-year-old bike race, although the broadcast does include mini tutorials to help the viewer understand cycling. I did learn this week that the cyclists must take in 7,000 calories each day while on the three week, 2,ooo mile tour. It is lovely to watch the peloton of riders race across the beautiful French countryside with it's magnificent churches, chateaus and castles. The two veteran British tour commentators, with their passable French pronunciation, take time to offer some history of the different geographic areas of France as the bikers wheel along at 40mph speeds.

We watched the US Open last month as the Irishman, Rory Mcilroy, became the world's new Tiger Woods. Every sport needs a super star and since Tiger lost that status it is fun to watch the rise of another amazing talent. Mcilory's record breaking score of 11 under par at this year's American Open was unbelievable. I watched an interview Piers Morgan did with Mcilroy last week and was struck by his simplicity and lack of the arrogance which I always felt often characterized Tiger. Mcilroy seemed very grounded, perhaps due to his working-class family background. He grew up in a small town outside Belfast, raised by hard-working middle-class parents. His Dad often held down three jobs and his Mom worked her entire life in a factory. The CNN hair stylist seemed to get the Irish lad's wild curly locks under control, at least for the interview.

We had our friend, Dr. Bob, over last Sunday to watch the men's final at Wimbledon. Earlier in the week we had watched the Williams sisters go out, as well as the eventual demise of the two men, Nadal and Federer who, like Venus and Serena, dominated the sport for many years. It was fun to watch the new generation of men and women players do well on the grass at Wimbledon. I loved watching each day to see who was sitting in the Royal Box at Wimbledon. One of the best box moments was seeing Billy Jean King (my personal favorite) schmoozing with Will and Kate. Billie Jean had not missed a Wimbledon for the past 50 years. She stills plays tennis at age 67, thanks to her knee replacements. Some of the Brits were in an uproar this year due to some of the women players consistently screaming with each stroke. I had to admit, I think these high-decibel screams might best be saved for the privacy of a bedroom.

Harry is looking forward to when the Tour de France gets up to Alpe d'Huez in the French Alps in two weeks. He lived in this part of France for a year and has promised to take me there, perhaps in September of 2012. Next up in the sports world is the "Open" as my resident Brit calls it. I incorrectly refer to it as the British Open. A few years back, while in England, we watched when the tournament was played in Scotland at Carnoustie. I remember watching the stylishly dressed Tiger tantrum his way around the course as the 17-year-old Mcilory, looking a bit unkempt, played as an amateur. It would be great fun to see Tiger and Rory go head to head. (Mcilroy would win that one before the golf started.)

Sports! Yes, I am surprisingly into them big time. My Dad would be shocked. Actually, I find my new interest shocking too, but, I still hate American football.