Category: Joy and fun

The joy and fun in shared living.

Did you miss me?

Life for me is good.

Where should I go?

Someone who had not seen any activity on my website asked me if I had been blogging recently. Okay, it was my sister. Still, it is nice to be missed. Thanks, Sis!

The challenge of writing three different posts each week had served its purpose. I wasn’t staying fit (fitenoughforlife), my grandsons rarely made an appearance (wearenotthewaltons), and retirement had eased into routine (restlessretirement). Thus, I combined the blogs into one (www.corneliusblogs.com) intending to focus less on short blog posts and push myself into writing essays.

Meanwhile, I accidentally deleted an important folder (writing) from my external drive requiring that I spend a ridiculous amount of time, energy, and angst retrieving it. FTI, wine and Southern Comfort does not reduce the angst.

Other first world privileged problems confronted me. Boring. You really don’t want to know. A friend once asked me if saying “first world problems” was helpful. Yes, it is. As soon as I say “first world” or “privileged”, I realize that I have no problems, just minor challenges. I have a roof or roofs (rooves?) over my head, plenty of food, clean water, and the internet. I am surrounded by people who love me and whom I love, all of whom irritate each other in varying degrees. All is good.

Here are my thoughts tonight. I am 71 years ago, approaching 50 years of marriage, and I still don’t know what I want to do when I grow up. Everything sounds interesting. So, tomorrow, I am running off to Mexico with friends escaping the Midwest winters. Later this year, Mike and I will run north to escape the Southwest summer.

Life for me is good.

Watching Die Hard

I will continue to enjoy masterpieces such Mamma Mia! because, like most people I know, the characters sing and dance their way through life on a Greek island.

No doubt this appears on some folks’ Christmas cards.

While I wasn’t looking, an action movie became a Christmas cult classic. Die Hard is often mentioned as a family’s fave. Curious, I proposed a family movie night to watch this Bruce Willis masterpiece. Despite multiple previous viewings, my grandsons were pleased with my choice.

I do like Bruce Willis. Especially after a friend touted his gracious personality when he visited her candy shop with his kids. Looking past the features that date the film, such as the 80s hair styles, Bruce’s irritation at his wife’s use of her maiden name for professional purposes, and the tiresome soundtrack, I was bored.

My grandsons helpfully reminded me loudly and frequently that “THIS IS AN ACTION MOVIE!”

I watched my first James Bond film a few weeks ago, preparing to join pop culture for the newest one hitting the theaters near me. Same reaction: boredom. I am now assured that I will not experience FOMO (Fear of Missing Out) when I decline invites to future action films.

I prefer movies with plot, dialogue, twists, and great cinematography. I will continue to enjoy masterpieces such Mamma Mia! because, like most people I know, the characters sing and dance their way through life on a Greek island. Or National Lampoon’s Vacation, which accurately portrays an American family transporting a dead body on the roof of their car. These are the true heroes of film. Who needs Bruce Willis?

Merry Christmas, Happy Hannakkah, and Joyful Tidings

Enjoying Halloween

I never understood people who discouraged teenagers on Halloween. I love greeting the neighbor kids of all ages who must acknowledge your presence to reap the reward. Better begging for candy than buying drugs.

No Jack-o-Lanterns for us this year.

The inflatable dinosaur and Cyclops eye continue to adorn our front yard days after Halloween, Mowgli’s favorite holiday. Blue Boy has taunted Mowgli for keeping them up for so long. I am proud to say that Mowgli ignored him.

Halloween is remarkable in central Arizona for its mild weather, allowing people to be outside without coats. It marks the coming of fall and the many months of fabulous weather that is our reward for tolerating the heat of summer. We place chairs and table in the street, greeting the neighbors after months of sequestering.

Even at 14, Mowgli planned his costume weeks ahead. I didn’t witness the full dress, as he and his friends disappeared early in the evening of the big day. For them, the fun is not in begging for candy but in the fantasy of an alter ego as they walk the streets with friends.

I never understood people who discouraged teenagers on Halloween. I love greeting the neighbor kids of all ages who must acknowledge your presence to reap the reward. Better begging for candy than buying drugs.

From boys dressing as girls to girls assuming princess garb to adults wearing ugly masks, growing children test personae and practice characteristics they don’t possess. Adults use these skills continuously. One may argue that adults don’t don costumes to act out fantasies, but how many of us wear clothes to fit the expectations rather than what is comfortable for us? Act professional at work when we want to stick out our tongue? Pretend to have fun when we would rather take a nap?

Let the kids wear their costumes. The boy who dresses as a girl, the girl as a princess, the teen as a monster may develop an understanding of others as they adopt the mannerisms and experience the social responses of the costume. They may also discover their feminine side, their value, and their anxieties.

He golfs like Grandpa

For now ED hopes to keep them busy, healthy, and out of trouble. I am banking family memories.

A sport for people who dislike running.

You will play golf!

Wanting to encourage social interaction and physical activity, ED strongly induced Blue Boy to join the golf team in his freshman year of high school. Both boys had taken a few lessons. And both boys showed promise. Motivation was a little lacking. The alternative was soccer. Blue Boy hates running, and Mowgli is antipathetic to competition. There is no running in golf. On the amateur level, competition can be controlled.  

Continuing the tradition, Mowgli joined his junior year brother on the team this year. Blue Boy has played in a few of the varsity tournaments. Mowgli’s skills improve along with his attitude.

Flashback

I love watching them play. I have been on a golf course only once with them, several years ago, when they were more interested in driving the cart than swinging a club.

We enjoy family outings to Topgolf, where they can practice and I can marvel at their improvement. Mike has always been a strong golfer, lacking only the time to optimize his skills. He has a distinctive stance and swing. When Blue Boy tees off, he mirrors his grandfather.

The boys have the size and strength to be top golfers, possibly college level. A coach once told ED that Blue Boy could be a million-dollar golfer. Whether that means he earns $1,000,000 or spends that amount was vague. We are hanging onto the former.

For now ED hopes to keep them busy, healthy, and out of trouble. I am banking family memories.

Reprise: It’s good to be home

The stress of travel leaves me with exhaustion, chills, agitation, poor appetite, and poor

Leaving again?

Just home from Chicago two days, we left for a short vacation in Puerto Peñasco, Mexico, on the Sea of Cortez. It is definitely one of my favorite places, and easily my favorite beach.

Rumors of COVID-19 were spreading when we were there in March 2020. We had joined our daughter and her two boys and a neighbor couple with three children and his mother. Mike and I had considered extending our stay at that time, but the cool, windy weather dissuaded us.

On the highway back to the States, we received a call from friends warning us that the border would be closing. We hunkered down at home the rest of the year.

It was fitting that we returned to Mexico in 2021 with the same group of people, celebrating our survival of the pandemic.

The good, the bad, and the . . .

Mike and I have been away from home more than 10 weeks this year. It has been a study in contrasts.

When Arizona was offering its perfect spring weather, we were awaiting our granddaughter in the cold, gray, wetness of Chicago. When we returned to that city a short time later, we enjoyed Chicago’s perfect spring and avoided the record-breaking heat of Arizona’s early summer.

We put 6000 miles on the car in addition to air flight miles. We ate and slept poorly and well, mourned the deceased, and celebrated life with friends and family. Rarely alone, I looked forward to some isolation.

Exhausted

No longer do I return from a trip ready to unpack, refresh the laundry, and be prepared to go the next day. It takes days to re-acclimate. Having only two days, I trudged through the steps to prepare for the trip south.

I can’t emphasize enough how much we love Rocky Point. But it was late June, meaning hot and humid. The house, situated perfectly on the beach, was cramped for 11 people ranging in ages from 2 to 70. And it seemed there were at least 12 different dietary needs. Mowgli wanted to live in the water, but the older teens remained on the couch glued to their phones.

On the last day, God spoke: there was a snake on the beach.

If you know me, you know I can never return. In addition, driving home, Mike got pulled over for speeding. If you know that part of Mexico, you know a speeding stop is inevitable but frustrating.

The relief of dry heat was obvious as we proceeded north, stopping at the McDonald’s in Gila Bend. I indulged in chicken nuggets to celebrate.

It’s a dry heat

Arriving home, I unpacked and collapsed into the recliner. It took a few days to complete the laundry. And more days to get my body to feel . . . well. The stress of travel leaves me with exhaustion, chills, agitation, poor appetite, and poor other bodily functions.  

It is good to be home.

Sources of deep happiness

The best gift to give a child is a sense of belonging to a community. Family, blood or not, is the best community to fill the wells of deep happiness and optimism.

Ultimately, though, I realized I did have sources of deep happiness, and these bred in me an optimism that proved stronger than any adversity.

Sonia Sotomayor, My Beloved World

New life

LLJ, our first granddaughter/third grandchild was born just over nine weeks ago, sparking the joy and hope that new life promises.

Mike and I are relieved and delighted that all three of our children have become productive, happy, healthy adults. We humbly acknowledge the role of God’s blessings and luck.

How does it work?

It is a mystery that good kids survive bad parenting, and bad kids bud from good parents. Having parented three children and closely observed the rearing of two grandchildren, we acknowledge that we have no idea how to raise a child, and we refrain from judging. Each child is unique and requires unique handling.

My source of strength

Sotomayor’s quote provoked thoughts of the sources of my strength. Number one is strong family ties. There have been trials in life, but I consider my challenges the norm of a blessed and privileged life. Belonging to a close extended family supported me through any adversity.

All are welcome

Our family lines blur, the rolls filled with names of people who do not share our blood. Family in our clan means a commitment to the relationship.

Family can act as role models good and ill. Family can demand accountability. Family can drive you nuts and teach humor, forgiveness, and patience. And when life gets tough, family is a source of strength and comfort.

The best gift to give a child is a sense of belonging to a community. Family, blood or not, is the best community to fill the wells of deep happiness and optimism.

Feeling blessed

The cold clouds of the weekend have moved over the lake to leave warm breezes of spring. It is a good day to take a walk and admire the tulips.

Baby smell

Random thoughts today. We are in Chicago and will hold our newest grandchild, LLJ, the first girl, in an hour or so. I can smell her already!

To celebrate, I put together a lasagne, the recipe from the boys’ paternal grandmother who remains in their lives. We are thankful that connection remains intact although, sadly, not close because of the great distance between our homes.

Meanwhile, back home

We also celebrate Blue Boy’s first athletic letter for golf. True to his personality, he didn’t understand what it was for nor the honor it marked. Simultaneously, he received the letter welcoming him to National Honor Society. Good job, Blue Boy!

Mowgli returned to in-person schooling long enough to raise his grades before being sent home after exposure to COVID. This is getting old. He looks forward to 8th grade graduation and commencement of high school. Hopefully, in person!

Blessed

Circles of Life: C-boy, the happy father of LLJ, works in Roselle, near to the home we left to move to Arizona. Where will LLJ grow up? That will be determined when C-boy completes his master’s degree.

P-Dil is still perfect, remaining ever upbeat when C-boy becomes discouraged.

ED is enjoying the freedom earned by raising two good kids. She hikes, usually with a friend, at least twice a week. I took up jogging at her age. The 40s were the best!

SD and MBP live actively in Chicago, walking everywhere, enjoying close friendships, enjoying city life. Their still new relationship holds promise for deep love.

The cold clouds of the weekend have moved over the lake to leave warm breezes of spring. It is a good day to take a walk and admire the tulips.

Harbingers of Spring

Hello, are you there?

Children learn early about object permanence, establishing trust in the laws of nature. At the other end of life, we face impermanence, mortality. I don’t want Mowgli to be burdened that his poop emoticon may be the last connection between us

On the road

Mike and I have been on the road for over two weeks, meandering across the Midwest, discarding empty photo albums and photos, delivering antiques, and visiting friends and family. Now holed up in SD’s garden level guest room, we are in Chicago awaiting the birth of C-boy and P-Dil’s first child.

Easter

My life as a church musician meant that Easter was a BIG deal, marked for me by exhaustion. This year we spent Easter apart from ED and the boys, the first time in my life that I didn’t dye eggs. We were on the road moving from Ohio to Chicago following a lovely brunch hosted by Mike’s aunt Shirley.

I sent digital Starbucks gift cards to each of the kids to mark the special day. Everyone replied lovingly. Blue Boy even added “I love you.”

Except Mowgli

Mowgli is a loving, generous kid, but responds rarely to messages. Does he realize we aren’t home? It was days before I received notice that he had opened the email.

My mother put the burden of communication on the kids. When she complained that we never called, we installed an answering machine: yes we called; you weren’t home. Pick up the phone and call us back.

My children are busy with family, work, and school. The grandkids are kids. I accept the responsibility of staying connected, texting regularly. Most often they reply.

Joking?

Except Mowgli. It has occurred to me that he does this intentionally, a type of joke. Like when my nephew would answer my mother’s phone calls with an accent, feigning the wrong number. It was a “thing” between them.

I’m laughing

Children learn early about object permanence, establishing trust in the laws of nature. At the other end of life, we face impermanence, mortality. I don’t want Mowgli to be burdened that his poop emoticon may be the last connection between us. I want him to know that I laughed when I saw it.

Delayed gratification

All this to say that being on the front line of grandparenting isn’t always pleasant, but the rewards are enough to remind us that even greater rewards may be ahead. And if not, we have had a good time along the way.

“Parenthood begins as an expression of narcissism, of personal genetic redoubling; but that selfishness is quickly burned away in the crucible of tears, vomit, fevers, and close calls; and it is repaid only in the incalculable joy of seeing someone else thrive in happiness and apart from you.”

Medallion Status: True Stories from Secret Rooms by John Hodgman
https://a.co/837zw2S
A moment of warm fuzzies.

Initial success

The relief is delectable: our three children survived childhood and adolescence and are now responsible, happy adults. That is the ultimate reward of parenting. We give a nod to our skills, great credit to the kids themselves, with abounding thanks to God. There are enough examples of good parents with bad kids or bad parents with good kids to keep our personal pride in check.

Do we really want to do it again

Sharing a home with two generations allows us to experience parenting anew. Yes, we are the grandparents who leave the parenting to the boys’ mother, but we get front row seats to the maturation. It isn’t always pleasant.

Glimpses of gratification

Thankfully parenting and grandparenting offers tidbits of reward before tempting us to throw out the kids.

The once-a-week dinner table when everyone convenes in a good mood, conversation flows, and no one complains about the food keeps us going until the next pleasant meal, which may be another week out. A verbal thank you for a ride or a Starbucks reminds us that the boys know manners and can, at the minimum, mimic appreciation. Laughing together during a game or sharing the completion of a puzzle supplies the warm fuzzies which may be depleted by the next surly remark.

Yep, it’s worth it.

All this to say that being on the front line of grandparenting isn’t always pleasant, but the rewards are enough to remind us that even greater rewards may be ahead. And if not, we have had a good time along the way.  

Waiting

Although sharing a house means that everyone is relegated to separate rooms during isolation, there is joy in knowing my family is close.

She appears so quiet and calm at first glance—the wife of a Parisian wine vendor, focused on her knitting, self-contained and self-sufficient. But looks can be deceiving. Inside the quiet woman is a seething cauldron of suppressed rage, hatred, and vengefulness, just waiting for the right moment to boil over and scald everything in its path.

GINA DALFONZO

The crown

Blue Boys visit with the school nurse resulted in his exile to home and quarantine with possible COVID-19, coronavirus. The crown, I call it.

Although the initial saliva tests came back negative for both Blue Boy and ED, swab tests two days later confirmed a positive diagnosis. Which means that we are all trying to isolate in what is essentially a group home.

Now we wait.

Mike and I have both had sinus congestion, mine somewhat worse with a cough. Overall, though, I have been less uncomfortable than with my annual cold/bronchitis. Thanks to the great American way, we weren’t able to schedule a rapid results test for three days. Evidently there is a shortage of kits.

So we wait.

What does it mean that an image of Madame Defarge from A Tale of Two Cities haunts me? Knitting, knitting. But I am waiting, waiting. It has been a long time since reading that epic, but I imagine her possessing a restlessness that fuels endless and convicting knitting. Gee, wish I could knit. Whom would I convict?

And wait some more.

We are all feeling restless. We are done with 2020. And we are done with endless waiting, much of it unnecessary, the result of power struggles benefiting few and harming many.  

The good news.

Although sharing a house means that everyone is relegated to separate rooms during isolation, there is joy in knowing my family is close. As Mowgli, who is symptom free, passed through the kitchen, a spark of love popped up in my heart. That spark that makes waiting tolerable.