"Traditionally, literature makes much of the beauty of fleeting things and the delight of the bittersweet mixing of pain and pleasure. But no one ever said that heaven was seasonal or fleeting. Heaven is always portrayed as blissfully monotonous, one bright blue day after another forever and ever.
Rather like California."
For the last twenty-five years or so, CoolGuy has been involved with testing and engineering in his job. He has spent a lot of time running systems until they reach a failure point. This allows the designers to know the capabilities, or lack thereof, in a particular system. It's important to know just how much capacity is available in almost anything, so you know if you are nearing the limit. I think I found CoolGuy's limit this week.
I've noted before how he seems to find just the right thing to say---
When I was feeling particularly morose over having to give away my cute shoes collection:
"You know why you have those terrible feet, don't you? It's because the rest of you is so awesome that God had to find some way to keep you humble."
Once when I was getting ready to go to work:
"Where do you keep your fire extinguisher?" HUH? he went on..."Because surely you need to wear one clipped your belt or something, since you're looking so hot."
When he brought me lunch at school:
"Gosh, your co-workers are so nice to you. Usually when one person is so much better looking than the rest, it creates a little hostility."
Yeah, yeah, yeah....
However, despite his ability to pull off the glib remarks all these years, this week I succeeded in rendering him speechless. See, a couple of days ago, I woke up, wandered into the bathroom, and, as I attempted to sit down, I lost my balance a little, (dumb feet) and sort of half-fell onto the toilet seat. And. it. cracked.
Yes, I cracked the toilet seat.
I couldn't believe it. I mean, it's made of wood. I'm a little---ahem---heavier--than I'd like to be. But even all the times I was pregnant and weighed this much, and maybe sat down a little harder than I intended in my state of expectancy-induced clumsiness, I have never cracked a toilet seat!!!!
So when CoolGuy got home a little while later from his morning coffee run, I told him about it. I'm so sorry I didn't have a camera, still or video, available immediately. Video would have been awesome! The look on his face was priceless. He valiantly struggled to avoid bursting out in laughter. He had to put his finger on his lips to stifle his smile, and he coughed as a small guffaw leaked out. He turned a little red, and he started to say something a couple of times. He stepped forward, then backward, and finally just shook his head, and said, "I'm sorry. I'm going to need a few moments to process this one." And he dashed into his office, out of sight. IT WAS HILARIOUS!
So, if I were to write the engineering report for this toilet-seat episode, I'd conclude that I have definitely found what causes the failure of the Just-right-make-your-wife-feel-good Rhetoric Area of the CoolGuy brain.
I've only been out of school for two weeks, and yet, I've managed to have a lot of fun already! We cheated on the first little trip. We left before school was actually over...Our daughter's graduation from college with her doctorate degree (Nursing Practice----from Oregon Health & Science University) was on the Monday of the last week of school. We flew up on Saturday morning, after I'd spent several really long days that week getting every T crossed and i dotted, so I could return on Tuesday morning, really early, to be ready for the awards assembly and the last day of school. I realize I've already celebrated this event in a previous post, but, I feel like bragging some more.
That was just the first trip of the vacation season! On Thursday, I carefully put everything into secured spaces in my classroom, except for those last piles on my desk, which got dropped into a box and shoved into a closet, and turned in my keys. Then we left Friday morning to travel straight north to attend a lovely piano recital by our granddaughter. She is very skilled, having taken lessons for several years now. Plus, they have a marvelous piano teacher who helped them to write their own song! I'm serious--every student not only played a piece from their lesson books, but then performed a self-composed number. They were all fabulous! What a great night! This is why I live in the West--I want to be able to attend piano recitals by grandchildren.
Talented Pianist
The next morning, we assembled at the church to attend the baptism of our grandson who just turned eight years old. He was baptized by our son, his uncle, and there was a talk by the sister (above) and a talk by Grandma (me). It was a lovely event and afterward, we went over to our daughter's house and feasted in her backyard. We returned to our home the next day, after a visit with both of our children and their children. I had to get back due to a series of doctor appointments I had the following week, but --- again---it is why we live in the West. We can be close enough to go visit for a couple of days, and then go home.
The Hawaiian childhood of his father's family calls for leis on all special occasions. Nice tradition!
Weren't those two kids of ours just getting baptized themselves a short time ago??
Then, my final quick trip to celebrate the beginning of summer: I went to North County San Diego over the weekend to have dinner with a group of friends. The significant part of that trip is that I go to spend time by the ocean! Sigh....my favorite place. I enjoyed seeing my friends. We ate some so-so Mexican food. (Sorry, but I was expecting better in SoCal.) But then, the next day, I went to visit the sand and waves. It was a lovely day for it, too. It was torture to simply snap a few pics and then leave again. CoolGuy and I have a plot to get back to the ocean again, later this summer. I certainly hope we can pull it off. Someday...I'll live there again--it's a dream.
I call this picture: Happy Feet
I could have stayed there all day. The water was warmer than my beach in Port Hueneme. I needed a boogie board and a swimsuit, and I'd have been a happy girl to go along with the happy feet.
I've enjoyed watching the Father of this family as he has been repeatedly interrupted this afternoon from his motorcycle wrenching by phone calls from his children. Thanks kids!
I read from some commentator that Father's Day is an "awkward" holiday, celebrated inconsistently by people from 1910 until, finally in 1972, it was designated an official holiday in a bill signed by Pres. Nixon. I know that it doesn't always get the attention that Mother's Day does, but perhaps that's appropriate since a lot of fathers are somewhat "aw shucks" about being the center of attention. I also know that there are plenty of fathers that are not there in the life of their offspring, so that figures in, too.
I was a lucky one. My dad was there and was a fine dad; surely deserving of extra attention at least one day each year. He was a pretty good dad, too, considering that he had to make it up as he went along. He didn't have the example of his father who died when my dad was only eight. He lost his grandfather the next day after that, too. So, he was taken in by a kind relative and was pretty much a grown-up from then on. However, even though he had never experienced the love and attention and advice and unconditional love from a dad, he did a pretty good job of giving that to us, his children. I credit my mom with teaching him how to be a loving person. She said once to me that he was pretty "hard" when they first got married, and that she had to show him that it was okay to be softer. He was a devoted father, and we all knew how much he loved us. He was tough sometimes, but we also knew that he still loved us anyway.
Here he is with the first two kids,
the beginning of the six daughters and two sons.
He's wearing the "uniform" I remember him for---irrigation boots and a straw hat.
We're up to six of us here. Just two more to go.
Note the "farmer's tan"---duh, why do you think it's called that?
Our one and only overnight vacation.
We got our tall genes from our dad.
Baby number eight was on the way, that's why
my mom is taking the photo and not in it.
He loved to raise beautiful horses.
This particular one was also extremely patient
and long-suffering.
That is baby number eight squeezed in there on his lap.
This is grandchild number one. It was pretty awesome for him to be a grandfather. The saddest thing is that he didn't get to enjoy that role very long, here on earth. We'd only delivered the first 18 while he was still living. We ended up with 33 altogether finally. But, he met those other ones in heaven before we did.
Dad #2
The second dad we honor today, is CoolGuy, the father of our family. He wasn't all that sure he was ready to be "dad" when we first married. But once we decided, he was awesome! He was ahead of his time in the "hands-on" category. He was never reluctant to change diapers, or wipe up barf, or do dishes, or laundry, or cook, or clean. That's why when friends would laugh that one reason they gave birth in the hospital was to have a little vacation, I'd just smile and say that CoolGuy gave me one at home. He would take off work and do everything for the first three or four days, just so I'd stay down and rest. He knew he'd have to enforce it. But, it was also really nice to have everyone in the same place and not be splitting time between the hospital and home. Here are some cool fatherhood shots across the years.
Well, I went to an appointment with my foot doctor this week. I wore two shoes. I took off the cast when school ended. I'd worn it since the first week of April, after the latest surgery, just to protect my foot. I'd foolishly taken it off after ten days, when the stitches came out, because I felt pretty good. However, after about five days with no cast, I got to the middle of a school day with a throbbing foot that felt like it could only be cured with an ax. Instead, I texted CoolGuy to please bring over my cast. Which I then did not go without until school had officially ended and I could sit down and walk fewer miles.
It seems to have worked! Between the right foot's cast allowing that surgery to heal, and the left foot's ingrown toenail surgeries (yes, plural) and their eventual...finally...healing, I left my foot doctor's office this week with----wait for it (!!) ---
no follow-up appointment.
Yes, read that again...I do not have another scheduled appointment at the foot doctor.
***fine print addendum: at this time, I do not have obvious reasons to return to the podiatrist. This does not rule out any future ped-collapsing as has happened in the past. This also does not indicate wonderful feet on my part. Any claim to have "good" feet, or "fine" feet on the part of the writer of this blog is to be taken with a very, very large grain of salt. She will never have good feet. But if she can go through another school year without having to have any foot surgeries it will be a year of celebration and jubilation. Huzzah!
Well, the answer to that question, since June 2nd, is "yes"---our daughter is now a Doctor of Nursing Practice! She graduated from Oregon Health & Science University on Monday, and we were proudly sitting there in the auditorium watching. What a fine time to be the parents!
We were joined for this celebration by her sister. And we pretty much spent the weekend eating one delicious meal after another, laughing and talking. Portland was warm and sunny the entire three days we were there, too. It was pretty wonderful all around.
And, whereas these girls do have a bit of a Mutt and Jeff motif going, the difference in their heights is not actually this acute. The Doctor is also wearing 3-inch heels. In fact, she posed like this to tease her daddy.
During the "hooding ceremony" when the advisor places the doctoral hood over the neck of the candidate, she actually just squatted right down on her heels. Her advisor was a short person anyway, and then the heels....
One of her favorite moments was opening the gift sent up by her eight-year old nephew--aka: Brickman. He found it on the Lego website a couple of months ago, and just knew it was the perfect gift. He was right! In fact, the graduate carried the little figure in her pocket for the whole ceremony!
It was a totally great event, and we are just really proud of her for all the hard work. Plus, now when we get old [er], we know who to call when we need someone who really puts the "treat" in treatment.
Well, when we came back to school on Tuesday, after the three-day weekend because of Memorial Day, people were just over it.
All the rules!
Why do we have to keep working when school is almost over?
Who cares about it anymore?
There's too much stuff still!
Seriously? More papers to work on?
Who needs to know this stuff?
Why should we even care about it!
We just want to be home, maybe sleep in a little bit.
We're so tired of being with these people!
All year--it's just been "Work, work, work"-we never get to do anything fun around here anymore!
And that is just the teachers....Imagine how the students feel!
Can't let the day go by without saying "Happy Birthday" to my (almost) twin sister. We weren't really twins. We were born 15 months apart on the same day of the month: the 23rd. She was my constant companion for almost 20 years, until I moved off to California. But you know it's a good relationship when you can not see one another for months and months, and then just drop in, and it's like you were together just the day before.
We shared a bed until I graduated from high school. We shared a bicycle. We shared our clothes, until I got mad one year because a blouse I wanted to wear was dirty, and I announced that she could never again wear my clothes!! Ooops...that also meant that I couldn't wear hers, and that messed up my wardrobe more than it inconvenienced her. Rats.
We loved the barn cats and made up elaborate names and life stories for the endless bunch of them that came and went during the years we shared milking duties. We schemed about boys, and studied vocabulary words, and memorized scriptures, and tormented our little brother while we milked.
We rode horses together. We picked flowers together. We made a cool "hospital" in the little hiding place under the lilac tree in the yard where we'd take care of our patients---the little brothers and sister. We'd put damp lilac leaves on their wounds. We'd get turnips from the garden, and peel, slice and eat them with salt there in our hiding place. Once a year, our mother and big sisters would give the cellar a thorough cleaning, and we'd set up "school" down there in the newly empty space. Our pupils were the brothers and sister who were small.
We were an unbeatable bale hauling team. I'd usually toss them up on the wagon and she'd stack. We liked stopping for a pop at the little store on the way back down the highway from a field our dad rented several summers in a row. She actually didn't like carbonated sodas, but she'd drink a non-fizzy orange something. We were tough enough to haul the milk cans into town, too, and unload them ourselves onto the creamery's loading dock. There was always a lot of work to do, and she was never a slacker. We were excellent hired hands.
She was beautiful, too. She had fabulous blond hair that was naturally platinum. When we were going to college in the same town, but different schools, it was fun to go places with her and watch boys try not to stare too obviously. She was lots of fun, too, and people liked to hang around with her. I wish she was still around to talk to. I wish she was still around to see her gorgeous, wonderful grandchildren growing up. I hope people tell them stories about Grandma Trish, and about how she was a helpful, giving, sharing person who overcame a lot of difficult things in her life to become a really fine woman. I loved her.
Here she is, forty years ago at my wedding, when our uncle tried to marry her off to CoolGuy. She was engaged at that point to another guy, so she wasn't too eager to marry my choice.
Forty years ago, my nervous uncle stood in a little church in Wyoming. He was getting ready to perform the first wedding since he'd been called to be the Mormon bishop for that congregation, and there was a fairly large crowd for that small building. Included in the spectators was the uncle of the groom, who also happened to be my uncle's supervisor. The mother of the bride was a little annoyed at the bride, so there was some tension in the room. The young couple took their places in between the best man and the maid of honor, who was the bride's sister. Then, as the eclectic crowd ---grandmothers, farmers, bikers, cousins, businessmen and lots of assorted relatives--- looked on, my uncle asked CoolGuy, "Do you take Trish to be your lawfully wedded wife?" A great question, except that she is my sister and was acting as maid of honor at this wedding for which, I, me, myself, was the bride.
It wasn't an unusual mistake for the time. My sister and I were born just 15 months apart---right on the same day of the month-- the 23rd. We were essentially raised as twins. We wore the handed-down matching dresses of our two older sisters. We were both little blonds, the 3rd and 4th girls born into our parents' family. Most people in our small community, and even our enormous extended family, rarely distinguished between us. We were just [EarthSignMama/Trish], all one word, most of our growing up years. To be confused at the wedding was actually kind of hilarious. I wasn't even annoyed at my dear anxious uncle.
CoolGuy just stood there, however, and blinked, and then said calmly, "Um, no...I want to marry [EarthSignMama]." And that brought down the house! Loud guffaws ensued. My poor uncle turned bright red, apologized, started over, and this time, I was the one being offered as the wedded wife. And CoolGuy said, "Yes," and I did, too, and here we are, lo these many decades later. What a long, strange trip it's been.
I made the Grateful Dead connection because music has been a defining element of our relationship. When we first got together, we each had quite a collection of vinyl LPs. Not much else...but lots of records. We listened to music regularly; we went to many concerts; most of our children are quite good musicians. I wanted to celebrate this anniversary by including a few of the songs that will always have a special meaning for us. There is no particular order. Just sometimes, the way things were in our lives, these songs will always conjure up a memory. (CoolGuy tells me that Sugar Magnolia is the Dead song that reminds him of me.)
We saw the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band several times because they appeared at the San Diego County Fair quite often. We'd ride the motorcycle up there to the grandstands that overlooked the ocean, and listen to these guys. One song that means a lot is Stand a Little Rain. There were plenty of times when these lyrics were our motto. Another memory buster is High Horse.
Another group that would appear often at that fair was The Righteous Brothers. They loved that venue, as they'd enthusiastically point out each time they performed. And so they did a really great job, too! There really isn't just one that we liked the most, so here's a good one with a message for us--Unchained Melody. You may remember that it was in the movie "Ghost." He was overseas when it came out. I went by myself to see it--don't go to a love story movie featuring a dead guy when your husband is in the middle of a war. Just saying... He saw it on the plane on the way back to California. When I picked him at the airport, he put a cassette in the car tape player and hugged me while the Righteous Brothers played "our song." Sigh.
Early in the marriage, we both came home one day to marvel with each other about a song we'd heard on the radio. Who was that guy? Where did he come from? It was Willie Nelson. Where had he been? Writing songs for decades, performed by other singers, that both of us had loved--Hello Walls, Crazy, Funny How Time Slips Away. But then, he started recording his own songs. We saw him in concert over and over, too. It was the best music event you could go to: he was having a great time! It seemed like he'd have done it without an audience. The concerts went on and on...two hours of him and his troupe playing their music, and all of us enjoying ourselves like you wouldn't believe! Here's that first song we heard that affected us so---Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain.
We went to lots of concerts, did I say that already? It was SoCal in the 70's, and many groups came through there and tickets weren't expensive. Another group we saw more than once, because we couldn't stay away, was The Bellamy Brothers. They were also a fantastic concert event. We even got to take all the kids to see them perform once as part of big festival sponsored by some family-friendly venue. The children had heard their records (or maybe we were using cassette tapes by then...) so many times that they could sing along! Here's Let Your Love Flow.
One day, CoolGuy peeked in the kitchen door from the garage and called, "Come and hear this guy on the radio! He's going to be huge, I tell you." Here's what I heard--Guitars and Cadillacs by Dwight Yoakam. Yeah. He became huge. We saw him in concert several times, too. When CoolGuy was in Saudi Arabia helping the Marines during Desert Shield/Desert Storm, I sent him a video tape with one of Dwight's videos of a new song. It was warmly received in the wasteland of Saudi Arabia.
I could hardly chronicle the Music of Our Marriage without including The Eagles. We somehow managed to never get to one of their concerts, however. Rats. But we have so many memories of their music associated with our union. Here's a favorite--Best of My Love.
Another memorable concert from someone whose music we listened to constantly: Emmy Lou Harris. We got to see her in an intimate venue, alongside the water in San Diego. Here's Making Believe.
This is getting crazy. The more I go back in my memory, the more I realized that this post might never end! George Thorogood, Junior Brown, Waylon Jennings, Kris Kristofferson, Smokey Robinson, Blondie, B.B.King, Stevie Ray Vaughn, Los Lobos, Loretta Lynn, Tammy Wynette, George Jones, The Neville Brothers, Linda Ronstadt, The Kendalls--I guess since we listened to music waaaaay more than we watched television, it isn't too weird that music is the biggest memory maker for me.
I think I'll end it, though, with the quintessential musical performance of the relationship. We saw a Johnny Cash concert once. It was a stunning performance. We'd both loved his music long before we got together. It was unanimous that June and Johnny were near the top of the beloved performers list for us both. One day, as I drove back to our house in Maryland, I was listening to a bluegrass radio show in the car. This song came on, and I had to pull over to the side of the road because the tears in my eyes kept me from seeing the lines on the road. It perfectly sums up how we've always felt, and now...after 40 years...is even more relevant.
Today, I had an afternoon sub so that I could go to the foot doctor. Yeah, who'd guess I'd be going to the foot doctor, right? Today, it was to check on the progress of the right foot--it is good, very little pain left. I'm to still wear the boot and see how it feels after five days. Then, if the swelling and pain stay away, I can take it off and go back to shoes. Second, the left foot needed a little podiatry attention. Two of my toes needed fixing a little. So, I left there with a numb left foot, and a booted right foot, and while I was still pain-free, I stopped at my favorite place in the world to browse: Whole Foods.
Now, I don't go there often, because the three stores here in Sin City are all located far, far from my neighborhood. Plus, the prices are ridiculous! However, my trips to the foot doctor are usually my excuse to go in there and admire organic vegetables, and more mushrooms than I knew existed. I also like to marvel at the vast number of cheese varieties--who knew? I buy a few things each time: usually whatever fresh vegetable is in season (today was asparagus) and I get a few selections from the olive bar (pitted Kalamata and some stuffed green ones). Then...I look over the prepared food selections. Sigh.
I can totally resist buying a new purse. In fact, I don't enjoy it at all when my purse wears out and I have to replace it. It's such agony to find one that is just right--not too big, not too small, not too heavy, not enough of the right little spaces. I don't even spend time in the shoe department any more...it's just too sad. But I can barely resist sampling the amazing dishes that the cooks in the Whole Foods kitchens create. Golden beet salad! Charred cauliflower with ginger and red onions! Roasted Brussels sprouts marinated in rice wine vinegar and bacon bits! Lemon capellini with capers!
So, knowing that I was to go home, lie on the couch, prop up my freshly doctored in-grown toenails, and rest, I purchased a couple of to-go servings of two of those delights, and this evening, CoolGuy can load up the plates, and toast and butter a couple of little ciabbatta rolls (Walmart) and we'll feast. Yes, food, glorious food, is irresistible.
I came home from a friend's bridal shower this afternoon. I was hot and sweaty. I looked out in my backyard, and there beckoned the glimmering pool. So, I went out there, stretched out on the chaise lounge and got myself even more hot and sweaty (insurance). Then, I jumped in.
Why, yes, it was a bit chilly. But, I've swum in the ocean that was much chillier. The pool was actually fabulous! And, one can leap about, and run in place, and do jumping jacks, and not a bit of pounding occurs to the stupid feet! So, I lept and ran and jumped. It was delightful to get out there and get my blood pumping, and my limbs flinging around, and some muscles and tendons stretched and limbered.
I've been wearing the walking cast again since Thursday. I took it off the week before after all the stitches were removed. The doctor said to wear it for my comfort. And for about five days, my foot felt all right. I was still wearing a compression ankle-Velcro-y thing, and, of course, my shoe inserts and my hiking boots. Then, I decided to wear a different pair of shoes to school on Monday, this week. But, I forgot to put on the compression thing. By noon I was in agony. I had CoolGuy bring over the bandage. But even with my foot propped up all through lunch and the compression bandage, my foot was so painful--deep, achy pain. I went home, iced it and propped it up for a couple of hours. The next morning it was fine. I wore all my accessories, and the hiking boots, but afternoon, again---I felt like I'd like to just lop off the foot. Total agony. Wednesday morning I called the doctor's office and left a message (it was surgery day.) I got a message back that afternoon instructing me to come in on Thursday morning, first thing. So...he looked it all over, agreed it was swollen and a little warm, but said that the scar was healed nicely, no obvious infection or anything. Back in the boot---take a steroid pack. I'm going back next week. Blah.
So, the pleasure of the pool cannot be emphasized enough! There is no need for foot protection. The feet are just hanging there, undisturbed by gravitational forces. Plus, with the water as cool as it is (about 73 degrees) it is also an excellent temperature for the swelling. Ahhhh, once again--swimming--best thing ever!
I left the temple last night just as twilight was fading into black. The air was fantastic. It was comfortable, with a little breeze, and the half moon was shining directly overhead. As I stepped through the doors into the night, I realized that birds were swooping through the air above me. I stood there transfixed as a dozen nighthawks wheeled and twirled and swept up and down through the spotlights illuminating the spires. They were scooping up the insects attracted to the bright beams, up there next to the big rock mountain. All around was darkness, except for the glowing white towers.It proved to be an irresistible lure for the bugs, making it a real Vegas Buffet experience for the birds.
I just waited there, my head tilted up and watched the hawks silently arcing through the air, flapping wings once or twice in each cycle, swirling in and out of the streams of light. They were so graceful and powerful. It was a magnificent event of choreography with so many birds circling round and round, each in its own pattern and avoiding collisions with the precision of the Thunderbirds performance team from the Air Force base just a few miles north.
I realized as I watched, my mind serene from the time I'd just spent inside, that all of God's creatures can come to the temple to be nourished---one way or another.
I had just stepped out of the shower when I first heard it. I didn't really think much about it while I toweled off and spread lotion on my arms. But, when I sat on the edge of the bed to smooth the emollient on my pathetic feet, I realized that it was happening right outside the window.
Sure enough, when I peeked through the blind slats, there it was: a mockingbird--perched on the lowest branch of the short palm, shrieking and hopping from foot to foot in agitation. It could only mean one thing--Kit Kat must be outside.
Poor thing. She has a steady routine. In the morning, CoolGuy lets her out in the backyard. She steps over to her special place and nibbles a little grass. Then, she strolls over to various locations near the tree and sniffs this and that. She has a path around the perimeter of the pool, stopping off at each patch of plant life to sniff and check...whatever...and then move on to the next station.
Well, looking out the window, I realized that Kit Kat was trapped in the first stage of her pathway around the pool. The bird was now perched on the edge of the chaise lounge. Then, as I watched, the shrieking bird jumped down to the cushion and hopped around hollering in triumph or rage--difficult to interpret. I realized that Kit Kat was cowering under there.
So, I hustled to the patio door, and as I turned the lock tumbler, the kitty shot out from under the lounge and rushed toward the door, followed by the extremely agitated bird. I opened the door and Kit Kat dashed in between my feet and the frustrated birdie realized I was there and abruptly switched directions and landed up in the tree.
Poor Kit Kat retired to the bedroom where she is now recovering from the morning trauma. The mockingbird is still out there, singing her triumph song, waiting for the next encounter...
Today is the birthday of our first daughter. She taught herself to read at age 3 1/2 and has not slowed down one bit since then. In fact---awesomeness in a career---she is a university librarian! Isn't that great? I can hardly think of a better career for one so dedicated to the written word.
When she was about 10, she came to me and asked if I would write a note for her to the city library. It seemed that because of her age, she was only allowed to check out books from the children's section of that library. She needed parental consent to get books from the adult section. She explained, "I've read all the books in the kid part." I don't think it was an exaggeration.
She also excelled in school, by design. Every subject wasn't easy for her, but she was determined, and therefore succeeded.When she was in third grade, we attended the local high school commencement to cheer on her piano teacher--a graduating senior. Reading the program, our daughter asked me what "valedictorian" meant. When I explained, she matter-of-factly replied, "Oh, that's what I want to be." She didn't quite make it, but only because the three people ahead of her (her good friends) were able to take extra credits that our daughter wasn't able to, due her willingness to attend early-morning seminary instead of the extra credit classes. She did, however, earn a full scholarship from the university of her choice, and they also paid for her to complete a master's degree.
She has this same devotion to excellence in other areas of her life. Sports related activities were often a challenge, that not being her natural inclination. So,
after spending more that two summers trying to conquer beginning
swimming, she determined that in high school, she'd join her brother on
the swim team. It's not that she was so good, but because she wanted to
get better. And she really did. She worked hard and, while not becoming a
medal winner, she did become a confident swimmer, and that was her goal all along.
She took Spanish in high school and college. Then she served a mission in Madrid, Spain, and became a fluent speaker, reader, and writer. One of her two bachelor's degrees is in translation, and the master's degree is in Spanish literature. She worked for a public library before working at the university, as the person who helped anyone who needed help in Spanish. I know she can also get along in Italian, speaking and reading. Literacy---it's her thing!
I could go on and on...but it's time to post cute and/or embarrassing photos! Hope it's a great birthday! Eat cake! (She a fabulous cook, too.)
Seven candles on this cake!
She was saying to Dad, "Take a picture of this!"
On the carousel in San Diego
Just one of many awards for being a great student.
Receiving the Citizenship Award at 8th grade graduation. This fellow was also her customer for the paper route and he was big fan.
Reading is much more important than putting on your clothes.
Books were a omnipresent accessory.
(She gets this trait through the the gene pool, by the way.)
Another great obsession is the ocean and sea life.
Whale watching....
Whale hugging....
Comparing herself to a whale.
She visited us a couple of years ago on her birthday and we feasted.
Now she has her own adorable little family! Where does the time go?
My dad was a big sports fan. He loved to watch boxing, horse racing, football, basketball, and baseball on T.V. He also liked to go to high school football and basketball games. My two brothers wrestled in high school (state champions both of them) and my dad always drove the bus on their "away" matches just to be sure he got to watch every one. Sports were playing in our house quite often. So, you'd think that some of that would rub off on me, huh? Nope...not a bit. A couple of my sisters also enjoyed watching with him. They knew who they wanted to win; they knew the team names and the stars of various sports teams. Me? Nada. Zip. Nothing. Zero.
I managed to grow up without following any sports teams at all. I went to high school games to see my friends. Sure, I sat in the cheering section and was even a member of the pep club in my cheesy outfit. But, I rarely knew what was going on out there on the court or the field. I even played basketball with my church girls. I was a pretty good foul shooter, but I still, today, cannot dribble the ball and walk/run at the same time. I played softball with the girls at church, too. I was usually catcher because I could squat indefinitely (cow milker skills) and I could at least throw the ball back to the pitcher fairly accurately. I liked horse back riding, bicycling and swimming.
I finally learned the rules for baseball watching my sons play Little League. I next learned all the rules for football watching all the high school games I attended to watch my sons in the marching band. I've never enjoyed watching sports on T.V. except for the Triple Crown horse races. Which brings me to the purpose for this post.
Many years ago, (early in 1979) when I had but two small children, I appeared on the T.V. game show "Password Plus." It was a hoot! My partners were Betty White and Dick Martin. I won several games, and ultimately won the big prize and got to be the champion for a week. (It was all filmed in a single day.) Recently, CoolGuy found the reruns of several of my shows on YouTube in a Betty White tribute series. I present for you my fabulous tribute to Sports!! (look closely at Dick Martin's face after I utter my clueless remarks...and listen for Alan Ludden to confirm my amazing ignorance.)
What an exciting evening we had in Fabulous Las Vegas! Our son is the sound technician for Future Islands. They had a gig in town last night and we went. They were coming up from L.A. and so, having to drive across the whole city before they could get out of that giant traffic whirl, arrived quite late in town. So, our original plan to meet for dinner was scrapped, and we hooked up around 9:30 downtown.
It had been a short night and a long crazy day for our son. The opening act had lost their bass player due to a family emergency, so that fellow really needed a substitute to help him. Our son is a bass player in his own group, so he was the perfect solution. However, that meant that he'd stayed up quite late to practice, and as they trudged their way through the traffic on their way to Vegas, he'd scrunched up in the back seat of the van practicing on the guitar. Improv! A key to a happy life in the music business is flexibility.
We spent about an hour with him over some Thai noodles, then he went off to perform in the opening act. We watched from just below the stage as he did his first gig with this other group (actually, one other guy on a drum who sometimes sings, sometimes shouts, sometimes shouting/singing). It was terrific! The audience was there for a good time, and they were having one!
So, there we were, geezers in a crowd of hipsters, surrounded by people mostly younger than our own children. We were having a great time! I mean, here you are, watching your son succeed wildly in his chosen career. He not only can do the job he was hired to do, but also jump right in and perform with another group on a short notice. Here's a couple of photos of the bass playing.
Yes, I'm hobbling around in a cast still, so I found a pile of crates right under the stage and I built myself a little seat, right there beside/behind him.
Then, they set up for the main attraction. I was chatting with a woman who'd been staring at me over and over, but finally came over to let me know she wasn't mean. As she approached, I asked, "Do we know one another?" She confessed that her husband often told her that she stared too long at people...and yes, she was busted. She asked me if I was related to the lead singer of the main group. She pointed out our resemblance of dimples and round cheeks. I agreed with her, but demurred as I said my son was the bass player from the previous group, and worked as the sound tech for the group she had come to see. Then, we chatted about a number of fun topics---they were from Boston and just come out to Vegas for a little vacation specifically because this was the week this band was going to be here (!). They both had small businesses and could set their own schedules. It was a good week to be in Nevada--our weather is awesome---Boston got more snow.
So then I received a text from our son that there was room at the back of the venue to sit and watch the show. He had a little platform with his mixer board, and there was a table/bench for me. It was great! We could hear and see everything well and I could watch and admire him as he did his thing.
This band he works with is very energetic and has been playing together for ten years. They're good, they know what they're doing and they're tight. Our son has known them for at least five years and they recorded some of their earlier work in his studio. It's exciting that he can be part of this tour because they appreciate his skill and trust him to do well.
Then, about half-way through their program, the lead singer called out: "We're going to dedicate this next song to Mom and Pop [CoolGuy] who live here in Vegas and are hanging with their son, our own [Super Awesome Sound Dude] and they pointed back to us and waved. Everyone turned around and gave us a cheer. (Obviously we were the people qualified to be known as "Mom and Pop" back where they were pointing.) So awesome! No one has dedicated a song to me at a live concert before, so that was pretty fun!
We'd chatted briefly with the lead singer before the show, out on the sidewalk, before we went in to see the first act. I'd recognized him from his videos, and I stepped up to introduce us as Sound Tech's mom and dad He was every bit the polite young man from North Carolina, and said how much they liked working with our son. I told him that we'd heard the same thing about him --- what a good time our son was having working with him. So, it was really nice when he acknowledged us at the show.
The audience insisted on three encores, and then everyone finally left so the crew could pack up the gear. We stood around talking to people, then their van arrived to put up all their stuff---they were headed off to Southern Cali for another show on Thursday night--Friday night off, and then back on stage at the Coachella Music Festival. They have eight more states and eleven more shows till they get home. Then, after a weekend off, they're being flown out to L.A. to appear on Jimmy Kimmel on Monday, May 5th.
Whew! It's a challenging life---day after day in new place, doing exactly the same program night after night. But that's what a band tour is all about and the reason they're succeeding is that they have the talent and the passion to do it. And they're just all being professionals, which is what our son likes about it so much.
We dropped him off at their hotel, we drove home and flopped into bed at 3:30 A.M. Good thing I'm on vacation! But, I'd have done that even if it were a school night. It's pretty great to be the honored parents of a valued member of a great gig. We met up again this morning for a late breakfast before they took off again, and did our hugs and "love you's" and I can't believe I don't have any photos except the ones from the shows! Here's a little video of him in action. (The sound is not optimal in this video because it's from a phone...so go look up Future Islands on YouTube and hear how good they are.)
