Doin' The ET Moonwalk

There is something about grandchildren I find so fun. Only my wife gets away with teasing about certain things. Anyone else would catch "it" for doing something like that. Even my own children never were able to tease about the way I walked or other various things.

When Jack and Tommy were about two, both boys followed me down a hallway. Being where they were, I failed to understand family members laughing themselves silly.

After asking, Ann told me they were walking like ET.

"What?" I asked. Then Ann shuffled along, leaning to extremes from side to side as she walked. Suddenly both boys did it again. I joined in the laughter.

What can you do? I mean--it's easy to take something personal from an adult, but children have this pure heart that makes it impossible to see anything vicious in what they do, especially when it comes to your own grandchildren.

The my youngest granddaughter did it one morning. I did my morning howl, growled and chased her down a hallway. She ran quickly toward the kitchen and living room, where she stood my everyone.

Suddenly, she extends her arms, and opens her mouth widely. I expected her to growl, but she leaned from side to side. Yes, another grandchild did the ET thing.

And it's OK, until she reaches the age of seven or so. Then I won't laugh as loudly.

The Day We Left For Home

Saying good-bye is never an easy task. The last visit was the first time that little Sammy understood what waves meant. As we drove away, it was if a tiny cloud passed across her face.

This visit was different. What makes it so is the realization, that we can visit any weekend, especially the long weekends--ones that mean that we have Friday free and possibly the following Monday too. Those are the super weekends.

Not seeing these little ones for an entire year, while they were in Florida was more than difficult.

So saying good-bye is not hard now like it was last year. When we said farewell last October, we were in Virginia.

It meant that not only was I saying bye to three grandchildren for an entire year, but I would get back to Virginia any time soon either.

It's interesting what difference a year makes. We will see Cles and Leslie in the spring. We'll see Lydia and Jeff and the little ones on some long weekends.

And Kristin and Jack are still in Idaho Falls. There is comfort knowing these things. It's what makes life enjoyable, and more importantly, it's what makes time enjoyable. I can withstand Idaho winters knowing that springtime and open roads means travel to see family

Visiting Grandchildren--Doctor's Orders

In the week before we traveled to see family, I saw my oncologist. I've had so many problems since late July, and it seemed like after a six week situation, where Wound Care in Idaho Falls treated something that wouldn't heal on the front of my right lower front calf, I feared my doctor would recommend we stay home. It didn't happen. 

The trip seemed like it took forever, and even though they visited us the week before in Idaho Falls, I couldn't wait to get there. It's ironic that before the birth of my oldest granddaughter, I sat up nights without being able to get to sleep. For me, it was a concern that my new little one would never remember me. My grandsons were two at the time, and I thought my magic had been enough for them to think of Pop Pop at Disneyland and other spots, where we had so much fun together, before the second fight with leukemia AML began. 

I asked both grandsons a few years ago, if they could remember those incredible trips we took to Southern California when they both were so young. Neither remembered. 

It's funny how things never quite work like you think they will. Now they are both eight, and they have spent more than just a little time with me. My oldest granddaughter is the same. She just began going to school this year.

Kindergarten is the age that my youngest daughter was, when my father died. She remembers little about my dad. My oldest two children remember so much, but Kristin doesn't. That's what haunted me about my little ones.

At least I know the three oldest will remember me, but I'm working on memories with the youngest. 

While visiting, I howl like a wolf. I do animal sounds. I even resort to the peek a' boo thing at times, shaking my cheeks and making strange sounds. Our little one giggles. "Pop Pop's funny," she says.

Without exception, my sweetheart adds her take on the subject. "Sammy, grandma's known that for a very long time."

I can do funny--ha ha or other wise. As long as these little ones have fond memories of me and what I was to them, it's what matters. There is nothing as priceless as the smile on one of their faces, unless of course it's the love in their eyes they show me when I hold them.

Their grandma has shown me that look for decades. Knowing someone loves you like that is a priceless gift.

The Trip to Mammoth Hot Springs

What can I say more about this day. It was full of beautiful clouds amid a sea of  blue. The temperature was comfortable. Grandchildren are always fun to be with on a road trip, even if a bit of teasing occurs occasionally. It gives adults something to laugh about years later.

Jack's comments, Tommy's annoying noise, Anna's timid voice are all things that make each one interesting. The fun they have together is evident in how much noise eventually resounded in the car just after arriving at Mammoth.

What made the day complete was hearing elk bugle. Our day in Yellowstone on Friday September 30 was one to be remembered. We didn't try to see everything, but what we find was so much fun, so breathtaking.

Rock Climbing

I could not go to Blast Off! the day Lydia took this picture. For me, it's fun to see grandchildren enjoy something so much, but it was also important to take care of some nagging problems I've had with my legs.

My physical condition is not what it was when I was young, not even like what it was when I was moderately old and in between.

For me, it's difficult to climb out of a chair in front of the TV.

It's fun for me to watch something like this vicariously. I know it's not like seeing Tommy do it "live," but it's better than just trying to imagine it myself.

I have no common reference. Tommy doesn't have to struggle to get to his feet, push himself up to a standing position, and then wait until knee joints stop makng the Rice Krispie sound: snap, crackle, pop.

Even then, I wait and stagger above the large leather chair, knowing that if I fall, I plunge into a large piece of leather furniture. It's like the way I sit down, just a different direction.

So Tommy, my hat is off to you, and it's fun to see you climb like this--as long as you don't do any of that free climbing without the harness and spikes I saw on 60 Minutes tonight.

Just thinking of someone climbing up a rock cliff 2000 feet straight into the air made me ache, but I ache pretty much all over anyway.

Road Trips

It's always interesting how Yellowstone affects me. After I arrive, I forget all the irritating things of the normal day--drivers with cell phones, extremely old people in motor homes.

Sometimes even conversation becomes difficult, so grandchildren invent something.

"He's touching me!" There's an annoyed tremor in the voice, and when I turn around, a grandson is tickling my granddaughter on the neck.

We correct it. Suddenly, my grandson's voice appears: " "Tell Anna to stop hugging me." Tommy's eyes fill with mischief.

"I'm not." Anna's voice quakes a bit, and then she starts to cry. Jack feels indignant and has to make things right. He wants justice.

"Tommy's just saying that."

I understand. I had sisters, and when I wasn't saying or doing something to irritate them, I said or did something to get them in trouble. They learned the skill well, and they often found the tactic to be a weapon--especially on long road trips.

My dad understood classical conditioning. We'll let you listen to your music Jon, but you can't tease. My heart pounded. I handed a cassette of Deep Purple or The Who. Midway through the fist song, one of my sisters would cry out, even if I didn't say or do anything. I could feel them smiling at me first. Anger swept across my face.

"I'll get you good," I'd say. I always mouthed the words clearly, just so they could not mistake my meaning. But they knew they had me. Dad gave me one warning without saying anything. He hit the eject button. My next movement was almost involuntary. I felt the need to put my arms behind my head to stretch. I would slap both, just to get the right sister.

He's going to hit us dad. My father would give a brief stare. I recognized the look. It meant my dishing out karma would have to wait. We drove in silence. Then he would put in something he liked.

I always had "chick music." They were cassettes from bands like Bread or music of Neil Diamond. Dad liked all that. I preferred Neil Diamond. My dad's singing the words "Jeremiah was a bullfrog" was too much for any road trip. And besides, he teased me too. As soon as he noticed it bothered me, he began singing. He missed the words on purpose to.

These are things you think about when you experience a road trip with grandchildren. Maybe it's karma. I like to think my dad is sitting next to me in spirit, enjoying me grit my teeth when little ones begin to become restless.

It's why I think of Neil Diamond and Bread when we drive to Yellowstone.

Being Young Means Learning About Absolute Truth

Adults always talk about the sunset, bathing the sky in tones of orange and reds and yellow with brushstrokes of blue and purple and pink on edges of clouds. Distance is sometimes the thing, because age teaches you to note the scene in memory. It's about remembering something like that, but more importantly, it's about hoping that rediscovery is just around the corner.

I remember having to wait for the right pose, sitting on steps or on a gravel driveway. There you stand for minutes that seem like hours. And people ask you to smile, while looking into the sun that still seems so blinding, so imposing, so threatening.

But you do it anyway.

It's about having a picture, and even that concept is one you never understand until you smell like old people. You arrive at a time, when suddenly you wish there were things to remind you, when you you able to run without getting tired or without finding something like arthritis pain.

Pictures are tokens. But if you're lucky, you keep them. It's like being on a toll road, except you keep the coin for ice cream, and the picture is a way of taking into account the whole trip.

Yes, looking into the sun is not a fun thing, but that's what being young is all about in situations like this. They say "Smile!" A young mind suddenly wonders just what is so funny or so interesting--especially looking into that distant star.

But then suddenly one might stop. A sober look spreads across their face, and suddenly they say this: "Hey, we're like Luke Skywalker, except we're only looking at one sun instead of two." Luckily, my three little ones didn't think they had to smile half as much, since their experience was only half of what Skywalker saw on that desert planet scene.