See what I mean?!





Tonight, Brian and I had some errands to run, so after we were finished, we paid my Mom a surprise visit.  She was still dressed in her Royal Wedding attire after having attended the celebration at her retirement community.  Now, see what I mean?!  I referred to her in a previous blog, saying that I have been referred to as her huband on several occasions, and at the time I was still in my 40's and she was in her early 80's.  Guess I'll have to suck it up........or suck it in.........or something!  She is my all-time favorite octogenarian!

Double Whammy!

I was hit by a ton of bricks on Monday.  No....No one threw them at me.  In fact, they really aren't bricks at all.  For me, they're those times in life when I take a look at my kids and see milestones coming and going.  When a milestone passes, it is celebrated, processed, and added to the collection of milestones in my brain.  Monday, though, was overwhelming.

My daughter, Karen, is a senior at Temple University, graduating in just two weeks.  She has assumed many roles while there:  she was a member of the Honors College, she was a teacher's assistant, she served as an officer in the Catholic organization on campus, She was a Resident Assistant during her junior and senior years, and she was an Owl Ambassador, giving campus tours to prospective Temple students and their families.  I know there are omissions to this list, but these are the ones that come to mind as I ponder the bricks thrown at me this past Monday.

It was this day that Karen would give her last tour as an Owl Ambassador.  She had been pestering my youngest son, Brian, to visit her at Temple.  Brian is a junior in high school, and a tour of Temple on Easter Monday would be appropriate.  It sounded like a no-brainer. We didn't tour Temple when Karen was looking at colleges, so it would be something new for all of us.

I felt the force of the first brick before the tour began as Karen came up to us and gave us our hellos and hugs with a room full of people present.  We were finally not a source of 'uncool' for her, for at times, she was proud of us.  She was all grown up. 


The second brick hit me in the heart when I heard her confidently introduce herself to the all the candidates and family members.  She used humor and her heart to endear future tour members to her.  Her banter referencing her Walmart having a parking garage for horses and buggies was a hit...and so was she.  She was cool.


The third brick hit a little more gently, and as a father, was the most rewarding to see.  She took all her tour members:  the candidates, their parents, her little brother, and her parents under her wing with a confident smile.  She maneuvered around crowds of students and endured having to speak louder than the passersby.  She never lost her cool or her smile.  She was the commander and the nurturer, and we were suddenly the disciples.


The sight of my youngest two children supporting each other during this critical time in both their lives felt like an approaching brick, too.  Not because it was difficult to see them doing this, but because I was looking at these two big people interacting as mature human beings.  Neither of them is a child anymore.  Rewarding, yet bittersweet.


The final brick hit as we were saying our goodbyes, knowing that the next time I would see her would be her commencement and award ceremonies.  She would be closing one momentous facet of her life, and beginning a new one, having already been accepted in the Teach For America program.  As we gave her the final hugs and ventured back to the highways, I thought about Brian too.  He has begun the process of finding the right fit for his hopes and dreams, and will soon be using all he has learned in his life to survive in the world of college life. 


Most days are not like this one.  We're busy with one errand or another, one of our children or another, one task or another, and all that the normal routine has to offer.  The bricks certainly don't hurt, they just take me by storm for a moment, and I realize the speed at which time has gone by, and that each brick has its place in this house I've built called life, and that I'm one fortunate guy!

Spring spectacle

Aren't these pretty?  There's a yearly tale that comes to mind whenever I see them on our front lawn.  They're grape hyacinths.  I remember that time in the the fall of 1993 when Jackie ordered a whole package full of bulbs from a mail order catalogue.  There were somewhere around 89 bulbs in that order.  We think it was 1993 because we remember that she was pregnant when these were planted.  Of course, if you think about the first few years of our marriage and think she was pregnant, you are probably right....  She had the intention of planting them herself, but couldn't bend to the ground to do the work.  So, yours truly planted the bulbs.  I remember putting every one of those bulbs where Jackie wanted them.  Most of the flowers were in one of the beds, and the last to be planted were the grape hyacinths.  Jackie wanted them on the lawn creating a half circle around our dogwood tree.  I was tired and didn't really feel like digging at that point, but being the agreeable and obedient kind of guy I am, I quickly dug the tiny holes and stuck them hyacinth suckers in the ground, grumbling with fatigue.  Tulips, crocuses, grape hyacinths, and more.....just anticipating a lovely garden in the spring.  Yeah, those grape hyacinths in the grass were pretty, but they grew during the first few weeks of the lawn mowing season.  So, every year when I mow at the beginning of the season, I must leave a half circle of grass so we can enjoy the splendor of those beautiful flowers.  We've had neighbors and passersby marvel at their color, and we've even had little girl scouts picking them.  Nowadays, many of the bulbs, most notably the tulips, don't bloom any more, perhaps falling victim to the squirrels and rabbits.  The ones on the lawn, though, still flourish in their purple splendor, weeding their way into my path as I mow the lawn.  I respectfully mow around them, creating that grassy semicircle.  Then within three or so weeks, those purple spectacles turn brown and I mow their stupid ugly little heads down and continue on my merry lawn cutting way!