The Legal Services of Northern Virginia gala held Saturday night, October 26, was another successful celebration of this wonderful organization. LSNV serves the legal needs of those in Northern Virginia and in many surrounding counties and cities who when they need to, can not afford to hire appropriate counsel. It was established in 1980 and since its inception has handled 80,000 cases. Our son Jim has been the Executive Director of LSNV for the past 13 years.
The Gala was the perfect mixture of the serious and the just plain fun. There was a talk by Jim on the history of the organization and of the impact that it has on the folks it serves. We heard moving accounts from LSNV attorneys and then their clients spoke. They gave compelling testimonies of the legal help they received and of how the despair they were living with was changed to positive hope for the future. I was particularly touched by the attorney who shared a little of her own life story and that of her father who had served in the military. That was what inspired her to focus her legal career on veterans’ rights.
There were about 300 celebrants who came together to honor LSNV on this 39th anniversary. The guests were a mixture of those who work for the organization, law firms large and small who give their support – financial and otherwise – and friends and family.
The “just plain fun’ part of the festivities was in the obvious pleasure that participants shared with their table mates. It was reflected in the music, the dancing, the card playing, the picture taking. There were twelve of our family members in attendance and we took to the dance floor with enthusiasm.
Our musical family loves to dance as does the non-musical mother of this clan. I got a special treat when the grandson who is one of our Words with Friends favorite competitors asked me to dance – though a generation apart I think we made some pretty impressive moves on the dance floor.
Going to bed that night I reflected on the many diverse groups and peoples that are aided by the work of Legal Services of Northern Virginia: the elderly, the infirm , those with disabilities, etc. They need our financial support; And if it means attending their fund raising gala – what fun!!!
Sunday afternoon was an amazing experience – one that at one time in my life I would not have expected to enjoy so much. With our daughter Maura and her husband Paul, Jerry and I attended a choral performance of CHORALIS which for each of its 6 yearly concerts honors a non profit whose good work they want to publicize. For this performance they were honoring the Culmore Clinic where Maura is the nurse practitioner working with diabetic and other chronic disease patients.
I grew up in a loving Irish Catholic home that was basically devoid of music. Neither my father or mother were musical and they produced three non musical children. The song that we had down pat was “Happy Birthday” and we knew our Christmas carols.
I was about 8 before I got a glimmer of understanding of the extent of my lack of musicality. We lived in a two story home, the stairs to the second floor were three going up from the living room to a larger platform stair and then then a turn to the left and the rest of the stairs led to the second floor. My father thought the platform stair was the perfect venue for his children to give a brief performance when we had company.
The summer when I was eight, money was tight causing my father to take an extra job running a New York City summer playground in a local school . I went with him most every day. I had from almost the beginning found a soul mate – a girl my age who like me enjoyed the arts and craft activities , the sports, and was excited about the show which would be the big activity of the summer. Playground participants who wanted to could audition for parts. I knew that I would compete for a singing and acting part. Though I was a shy child I enjoyed the occasional platform stair performances and thought being on an actual stage could be very exciting. My new best friend and I had lots of conversations about the show! And on try out day we were both so excited. I didn’t tell her that I thought I was a shoe in for a part – after all I had all that stair platform experience. She went first in the tryouts and when I heard her sing I was amazed – she sounded so good. She got her pick of parts – I didn’t get any offers! It got me to thinking about what was the difference in our voices.
By the time I entered the teen years I was well aware of my musical shortcomings. I was a devoted follower of the ” Hit Parade” so I knew what songs were popular but I didn’t bother to learn the words till my brother Pete suggested we learn the first lines of the popular songs. Shortly after that we were both invited to a beach party where we sat around a bonfire with friends and with the accompaniment of a guitar player spent most of the evening singing. Prior to my first line of song mastery I would have had a miserable time. Now I was a little giggly as I ” sang” the words I knew. But for the first time I felt a tinge of envy for those who could carry a tune.
As I progressed through school and on to my first job I became even more aware that some people had a musical gift that I would have liked. I made it part of my prayer life to suggest to God that if He/She wanted to perform a miracle that would blow folks away He/She could suddenly make me musical. This was a frequent request that popped up in my God conversations. God did answer my prayer, not in the way I requested, but in a way that has so totally enriched my life. He/She gave me a very musical husband and five musical children and blessed us with 19 grandchildren who are musical.
From Frank Sinatra to Bruce Springstein , from country music to classical, my musical education is ongoing. And so last Sunday when we attended the Choralis concert I was open to what I considered to be a heavy concentration of classical music. It was to be selections from various Requiem Masses, taking works from different composers .
We were early to the concert and able to get great seats right up front. The 110 person chorus and the almost 50 person orchestra seemed to surround us. I thought that since the program was to be excerpts from different requiems that I might be completely lost. I know that I didn’t follow the music in the same way as my companions but in my own non-musical way I did enjoy it. Because of the seating configuration for the chorus and orchestra, I felt totally engulfed by the music. It was like being transported to another world where I didn’t understand the language but felt warmed and welcomed by the ambience.
Would I ever want to go to another similar concert. I think the answer is “yes”. New experiences are one of the spices of life and as I age i find there is still so much I want to learn and experience.
This past holiday weekend was a special time of making new memories and revisiting old ones. Part of the family gathered at the Ocean Grove, New Jersey beach home of our oldest son and his wife. Watching the weather forecasts for the last few weeks which have been consistent in their prognostications of rain, we were in agreement that rain at the shore was ok if the alternative was not going.. So glad that was our plan because the weather turned out to be warm and beautiful. How many times in life do we waste time focusing on the possible bad things that just might happen.
When my maternal grandparents were forced to move from Ithaca, New York to New York City – grandfather was the attorney for the Lehigh Valley railroad and when the government took over the railroad at the start of World War 1, he lost his main client. A New York City law firm offered him a partnership if he would move to New York and join them. My grandparents already had extended family in New York City so the move was a fairly smooth transition. They started a tradition of spending some part of their summers in Spring Lake, New Jersey. The place they stayed was the Colonial Hotel (now called the Ocean House).
My grandfather died in 1946. Grandmother continued to spend summers in Spring Lake and my cousin Franny and I were invited to each spend a week with her in what was probably the summer after his death. I was a young preteen, a mixture of self confidence and awkwardness. I had no problem taking the train from New York by myself after having been escorted to my train seat by my parents and warned not to speak to strangers. I was very comfortable on trains. We had no car and were frequent users of the Long Island train on our many trips to New York City to visit family. I knew grandmother would be at the station in Spring Lake when the train arrived. And I had lots to read on the train to keep me occupied.
Ocean Grove is about ten minutes by car from Spring Lake. Our son Jerry had found and researched the Colonial Hotel where he knew from family history, his great grandparents had spent their summers . On Saturday afternoon, we all drove to Spring Lake. I was grateful to have such loving family support as I traveled back in time to my teenage years.
When we pulled up in front of Ocean House I knew that in spite of the name change and the change to the building color that son Jerry’s research had paid off. When we climbed the stairs, crossed the lovely wraparound porch and entered the hotel I felt an almost overpowering familiarity. This small family hotel still projects the warmth and charm that perhaps in my week of visiting when I was about 60 to 70 years younger than the rest of the guests, I failed to appreciate.
One feature of this building that I remember loving was its beautiful wide and winding wood staircase. As a young preteen I had a tendency to bounce down the stairs. Grandmother reminded to be more ladylike. Now with the family I walked around the first floor – there were so many treasures in the furniture, the pictures , the artifacts – I felt like the inside of the hotel was so true to my memory. (Though the big wide screen TV in one of the lovely sitting rooms was a bit jarring).
We walked from the hotel down to the Lake. It was such a beautiful day and more memories came flooding back. Across the lake was the imposing St. Catharine and St. Margaret Church that I attended with my grandmother, so different from the Spanish mission style church that was my childhood parish home.
When we returned to Ocean Grove I got my computer and googled information on the Colonial. I learned that the staircase that I admired had been purchased from the 1876 Centennial in Philadelphia. The hotel was actually built around this amazing architectural piece. And the part of the staircase that was not used in the hotel construction now resides in the Smithsonian in Washington DC. Also my googling showed several “old” pictures of the Colonial – all in the off white original color that I remembered. The final piece of the memory puzzle was now in place!
These past few days of our family gathering have also been a time of sharing, walking the beach, playing scrabble, going in the ocean ( briefly- the temperature was 62), eating yummy meals. And it was for me a time of remembering. Remembering is particularly powerful when we are supported by love!
There can be a tendency as we age to spend too much time in the past. I favor a mixture of not forgetting the past, of enjoying the present, and of planning for the future!
Yesterday my husband and I spent the afternoon and evening with some old friends who are also octogenarians. It was lots of fun! We played bridge and then we had dinner together. Bridge is such a great game for keeping the mind active. At one point I found myself reflecting on our beloved Aunt Bette who died in 2009 at 102 years of age. Bette was an avid bridge player who participated in several bridge groups.
When she was in her late 80’s Bette shared this story of one of her monthly groups. There were two tables of women Bette’s age or older who gathered at 10 o’clock on the appointed day. They took turns hosting. Around 12:30 they would sit down to an elegant hostess prepared lunch. After an hour of eating and conversation they went back to the bridge tables for several more hours. Bette said that the quality of the bridge was outstanding but that she was beginning to notice that the lunch conversation was getting a little “wackadoodle”. And, at one session, after a morning of challenging high quality bridge, the group sat down for a typical yummy lunch. But the conversation was a little slow till finally one of the women looked up from her plate and announced that she had read that the Japanese had bombed Pearl Harbor. At that another woman proudly added to the conversation that she had read that Roosevelt had been reelected. Aunt Bette said nothing and was glad when they went back to the bridge tables.
I grew up in a family of two bridge playing parents who wanted their children to enjoy the game. Since I had two older brothers who were interested in bridge I seldom participated in the family games preferring to read or just do my own thing. But I didn’t mind subbing when asked so I definitely got the basics down. In college I was a daily commuter from home , taking a pretty heavy class schedule so I could satisfy the requirements to move on to Cornell’s nursing program . Lunch time in college offered the opportunity for bridge but I didn’t feel I had the time to participate.
When after graduation I moved to Washington for my first job and to share an apartment with friends, I was grateful that I at least had some bridge knowledge when I met Jerry because he was a bridge player. When we married and had five children in five and a half years there was not much time for bridge. As the children got older we became part of a couple’s bridge group and since Jerry was usually my partner we usually did pretty well at the game. But I never really worked at improving my skills, it was more for me a fun, social outlet.
Now the children are grown with families of their own and we have become Florida “snowbirds” – heading to Florida in the first week of January and returning the end of March. The two biggest “snowbird” activities are golf and bridge.
When we googled bridge for the town where we rent our condo we learned that there was a House of Bridge , open six days a week where they played duplicate bridge. We decided to give that a try. We took classes and participated in some of the tournaments for beginners. And we joined the ACBL – the American Contract Bridge League.
Bridge has been for me a humbling and yet enjoyable experience. Humbling , because I finally realize just how much I don’t know about this game that I like so much. I want to get better. Enjoyable because sometimes I really play my hands well and feel like I am getting the most out of the cards I have been dealt ( seems like there is a life lesson in there). And through bridge we have made some new and wonderful friends and that is a special treat for octogenarians!!!
There are some people who don’t talk about aging enough and some people who talk about it too much. And some of those who speak with authority about aging are not there yet. Of course we all know that with every passing minute each one of us is getting older. But that is not the common frame of reference when one today speaks of aging. They are most probably speaking of someone in the 70 plus category. Several months ago I started getting weekly aging platitudes on Facebook by someone who was identified as a well known author. I had never heard of her but that’s okay, there are lots of famous people I’ve never heard of. And since I am now firmly ensconced in the “aging” period of life I am trying to learn all about it and am open to various opinions. When three of the posts from the famous author rubbed me the wrong way I decided to google her and learned that she had two young children. She was another example of an advice giver whose “words of aging wisdom” were not based on actual experience. I deleted my name from her list of post recipients.
Had lunch with a good friend recently. We went to the same grade school and high school. It was fun to reminisce. We talked about the different closed doors that are before us as we go through life. It is up to us to decide which door to try and open, which offers the most rewarding opportunities. How many doors should we try and in what sequence.
When I graduated from Cornell there were many work opportunities in the nursing field. Cornell did an excellent job of preparing us for job hunting. They helped us to set goals and objectives as we began the search. I still remember in a class given by the Dean her thoughts on knowing yourself and your capabilities. She encouraged us to aim high but to make sure that we were grounded in the skills that the job required. Another way of saying don’t go through that door unless you are prepared to deal with the other side. The doors to choose from do not end when we get older. There may not be as varied and there may not be as many of them, but they are still there.
In the mid 80’s I went through the chaplaincy training program at Holy Cross hospital. This led to a job in the chaplaincy service at Georgetown Hospital. The staff was a mixture of ordained religious and lay chaplains. I loved the work but when the decision was made that the lay staff had to work the same hours as the ordained staff I knew I would have to give up this job I loved. Working nights and weekends was tough. I wanted to be home with my family. I gave my resignation. As that Cornell dean had taught years before “know yourself and your capabilities”.
We belong to an extraordinary church, St, John Neumann in Reston. Being part of an inclusive meaningful church is important to us and we have that in St. John’s. Its mission statement is “ All are welcome” and that is the cornerstone of this church. We searched a long time for such a church. Our wonderful church offers a plethora of activities. It is a nice problem to have and we have to choose the ones most meaningful for us. Since 2001 we have participated in one of its bible study programs. This has opened the door to new friends and we have gained much from the course material.
We moved to our present home in 1990. About ten years ago we put in a lovely patio in our backyard. I enjoy gardening but the bending that entails has gotten harder for me. I now focus on patio container gardening. It has been fun consulting with a very knowledgeable young friend on appropriate plants and their care. The deer like to wander through our yard , sometimes laying down in the vinca, sometimes munching on our bushes and the patio plants. The negative is when the deer decide that their daily diet needs to include my prize hibiscus or the leaves from the hydrangea cutting, a gift from a friend, which I have nurtured into a healthy bush, I find myself not thinking too kindly of these majestic animals, but then there are times I am so moved by that same majesty.
What is aging? It is a process we all go through. It is life. When I was at Georgetown I became friendly with Sr. Jeanne. I was touched and moved by her kindness and her quiet spirituality. She radiated a inner peace. We were contemporaries. The patients loved her. When I left Georgetown we remained friends. When she was diagnosed with terminal cancer and died shortly after, I was devastated. Her life was being cut short, there would not be much time for aging. Her funeral service was at the hospital in the late afternoon. It was the same day as we were to be entertaining two of Jerry’s biggest clients who were in the United States for a brief visit. Jerry understood that I had to go to the funeral. Jeanne was my friend. She was so quiet and because of the timing of the service I was concerned not many of the hospital staff would attend. I need not have worried. I got to the service about 15 minutes early and could barely get in the door. Doctors, nurses, various technical staff , house keeping were all represented. I learned a lot from my friend Jeanne. It is not how long we age but rather how well we use the time we have, how well we use our God given gifts and abilities.
Last Saturday night was very special in our family. Jerry and I attended the annual fund raiser of Greener Partners. It is a non profit in the Philly area headed by our youngest daughter, Meg. Their mission is to promote healthier communities through food, farms, and education. Focusing on those in need, they utilize mobile education programs, hospital gardens, and access to healthy food initiatives. Last year over 11, 000 families and individuals benefited from the program. No wonder we are very proud 😘
I like the way our family members show support for one another. Our daughter Maura, her husband Paul, and daughter Claire and Claire’s friend Greg all came from Virginia to be part of this event . Daughter Lilly came from New York. So including Meg’s husband Brendan, Meg’s personal support team at the gala numbered 8. And the total of guests at the event numbered 350.
Jerry and I arrived in Media on Thursday. It is a two and a half hour plus trip from our home in Virginia. When we were younger that could have been an easy there and back , even in the same day – but not any longer. This time we added a few days for trip recovery and relaxed visit time with our Pennsylvania family. And we wanted to have a luncheon date with our friend Rene whom I have known since my Cornell days. She lived across the hall from me in the nursing dorm. Now Rene lives in a continuing care community about fifteen minutes from our daughter’s home.
We met Rene at a local Media restaurant where the emphasis is on yummy, nutritious food that is creatively prepared. But the best part was being with her and sharing our thoughts about aging. I told her about starting my blog and she talked about how she had started a monthly listening group with her friends . Each one takes a turn being the facilitator and the facilitator gets to choose the topic for that particular meeting. Participants can just listen or they can contribute their thoughts. Interestingly, she said no one wants to talk about aging. She has decided that when her turn comes again, aging will be her topic. And not just the negative aspects which are so easy to fall into.
Aging is tough – as the saying goes, it is “not for sissies’’. Diminishing health, loss of mobility, loss of loved ones, loss of friends, perhaps loss of livelihood, loss of life purpose , loss of a sense of responsibility – these are some of the negatives. Recently in trying to straighten out my right hand which gets cramped from arthritis I moved it too quickly and tore a tendon in my right hand resulting in a “mallet finger”. According to the orthopedist this condition is common in “older” women. I had not been planning on wearing a finger brace to Meg’s gala.
The positives depend on how one deals with ageing’s adversities. It is important to keep intellectually challenged. For the last several years Jerry and I have participated in Learning in Retirement classes covering topics from current events to the history of unions. Through our church we are active in a bible study that is very important to us. And we participate in several bridge groups. And we do crossword puzzles.
We are both avid golfers, we will never be tour material but we get an incredible pleasure from the game and from walking the course.. We used to play 18 holes at a time but now accept that 9 holes is more realistic for our various aches and pains. Sometimes we play a few holes more and sometimes we don’t even reach 9. We are fortunate that twenty nine years ago when we moved to our present home we found a golf club that was within our price range.
We are now home – we have two young neighbors that we hire to water our patio plants when we are away. They do a great job but have no power over the deer who occasionally roam our backyard – it was a bummer to discover that the hydrangea which started as a cutting gift from a friend and had grown to a healthy flower filled shrub had been mercilessly trimmed by the deer. I know it was the deer because the hydrangea had grown quite tall and only the deer could have reached that high. The deer seem to be aware of our travel schedule – they never attempt the patio when we are home. A few weeks ago when we were on our beach week we came home to the remains of a beautiful hibiscus that had been gnawed to oblivion. I actually am not anti deer, I find them to have an almost spiritual quality in their quiet presence, but I sure wish they would leave the patio plants alone. Perhaps there is a lesson here – sometimes we just have to accept the bad with the good.
Reunions are strange happenings. I graduated from the Cornell University – New York Hospital School of Nursing in 1959. The Nursing program at that time was a five year program – 2 years of college and three of nursing led to a bachelor of science in nursing degree.
When I attended my 5th year reunion where our class was honored – along with all the other classes divisible by five – the graduates of 60 years previously seemed so old to me! Now as I made preparations to attend my own 60th reunion luncheon, I questioned what it would feel like. There were 90 in our first year class – by the time of graduation we were down to 76 – I wondered how many would attend – how many were still alive. Our two class secretaries made an enthusiastic pitch for this gathering of recollection.
I clearly remember our 25th reunion. There was a good turnout. Our class was seated at a rectangular table. These shapes of table are not conducive to conversation with those at the other end of the table where my close friends were seated. Next to me was a gal whom I barely knew my whole time at Cornell. Not only were we not on the same floor in the dorm but also when after the first few months of concentrated academic work we began our clinical rotations we never once followed the same schedule. I was kind of bummed since I wanted to catch up on the doings of my friends. But then we started talking and she was delightful. We actually had a lot in common and the luncheon time just flew by. I never saw her again because she did not live close and she never came to another reunion.
For this reunion I personally encouraged two good friends with whom I have stayed in contact to attend – we ended up with nine from our year. Looking through some old Cornell papers in preparation for the event I was reminded that at the time of graduation I was the class Vice President – something that I had totally forgotten. It made me wonder if that forgetting was symbolic of the fact that my life had had so much richness and diversity and joys and not so joyful times since graduation that what was I trying to recapture by attending – seeing my special friends? – it didn’t need a reunion to make that happen.
Reunions are nice – but…………………..
The reunion was in New York City in one of the private lounges at the hospital – it lasted for several hours. I thoroughly enjoyed the reunion – hearing what my classmates were dong ; getting the latest updates in the medical field. I loved seeing my close friends and several other gals whose friendships are important to me. The actual reunion was intense and satisfying, but it was enough of looking back.
Who knows if I will be around for the 65tth or the 70th reunion. Or if I will even want to attend. Reunions are also a mortality check. .
My husband is having a procedure at Johns Hopkins Hospital today. The operation was scheduled for 7:30AM so we were told to be at the hospital by 5: 30. Since we live in Virginia we decided to travel to Baltimore the day before and stay at the motel on the hospital campus. A positive was that when we checked in we asked for the hospital patient rate and that reduced our bill by 65 dollars.
We arrived at the hospital at the specified time. As my husband Jerry said, we were in time to hurry up and wait. And wait we did till finally he was called back for the preop procedures. After an hour I was allowed to join him. We had been assured by the surgeon that the anaesthesia would be similar to the amount given for a colonoscopy. When the anaesthetist arrived she told us it would be a general anaesthesia. I was taken aback . Anesthesia in an “older “ person can be the most dangerous part. And now I sit and wait.
I sent out a group text to the family when Jerry went into surgery. The loving replies are very comforting. Waiting is hard. It seemed like about 24 hours before the surgeon came out to talk pronouncing the operation a success. But probably only three and then another hour and a half before I could join Jerry in the recovery room. I cried when I first saw him – actually he looked good – they were tears of relief.
The surgeon wanted Jerry to spend the night in the hospital. And said I could stay with him. Since there were no rooms available on the Urology unit we were moved to the Marburgh pavillion where patients who want an upscale hospital experience can pay extra for gourmet meals and fresh flowers in their rather spacious and well appointed rooms and a chair which converts to a comfortable twin bed where I could spend the night. The staff was extremely pleasant but what we wanted was competence and knowledge of Jerry’s post op requirements. It was fun to be on the upscale floor- particularly since we didn’t request it , we would not have to pay the additional cost – but I was still concerned that perhaps the staff would not be as knowledgeable about Jerry’s particular issues as they would be on the Urology floor.
The post op first night was a bit ragged. The promise of early discharge the next day was something to look forward to. But that did not happen. Johns Hopkins is a massive hospital complex: the upscale wing was at the farther end of the of the hospital from the Urology floor. Any questions or issues concerned with Jerry’s discharge had to be approved by the nurse practitioner who was located on the urology floor. The procedures involved in discharge seemed very cumbersome to us – we couldn’t help but think that if we had been on the urology floor things would have gone more smoothly. It was about six o’clock before we finally were discharged into Baltimore rush hour traffic.
Driving in traffic does not bother me but ever since my cataract surgery I am not comfortable in dusk or night driving. The clock was ticking to get back to our home in Northern Virginia. I wondered if it had been a smart move to turn down the driving offers of our children but since we had been told of a mythical early discharge that didn’t seem necessary. Two of our five children and their families live fairly close by to our home. However, this is a very busy time for families with the start of school and other end of summer activities. So, as long as we can handle the twists and turns of life, this is what we want to do!
The rush hour was typical rush hour but fortunately no serious tie ups so we got home in good time. And thankfully recovery has gone smoothly!!! Trips to the hospital can get more frequent as one gets older – fortunately this one has a happy ending.
Our son just had his 53d birthday which we celebrated with going to a Washington Nationals baseball game. Twelve of us went to honor Jim and in spite of the fact that we seem to be a bad luck charm for the Nats – in their four game series with the Kansas City Royals they won three and lost one – the game we went to – but it was a lot of fun.
However talk about sensory overload. Our family occupied parts of two rows – one right behind the other. Immediately in front was a TV screen hanging down above us – same thing to the left and right. The loudspeakers and the music were at the highest setting. There was the constant hawking of food. There was the “ presidential race “ which takes place in the fourth inning. Admittedly I am not the baseball fan now that I was as a child and young teen – I was a Brooklyn Dodgers fanatic back then – but now the game is for me a fun family outing and a plus is the yummy hotdogs.
With all the surrounding noise and hyperactivity I could not help but reflect on how major league games have changed. My first game was when I was in fourth grade. It was a reward for a good report card. My mother took my brothers and me – my father was at work – none of us had ever been to a major league game. This was an afternoon game. I so clearly remember my first view of the playing field. We were walking through the stadium at Ebbets Field trying to find our seats. I felt a bit like I was in a baseball wonderland with the vibrant colors of the uniforms, the green of the grass, the air of excitement.
It was a game between the Dodgers and the St Louis Cardinals. The Dodgers were my most favorite team but the Cardinals came in second in my list of favorites. We had a small black and white TV – and whenever the Dodgers were playing I was glued to the TV set.
When we finally found the section where our seats were I will never forget my awe as we walked down the steps to our seats – it was all so unbelievably colorful — so much better than the scene portrayed by the black and white display on our small TV screen. And the pitchers mound was truly a mound – I couldn’t get over that. Though the game got called after the 5th inning for rain I was disappointed but it was still okay. Not too many children get to see their heroes in person.
All these memories came bounding back at our most recent baseball outing. I could not help but reflect on the simplicity of my first game – there was no need for the hanging TV’s ( of course they didn’t exist back then) or the other gimmicks that seem to be needed today to make the games more interesting. Is there a life lesson here – why do we insist on embellishing events or happenings that standing on their own offer a special meaning that with the embellishments gets lost in the weeds!
As one of our sons said when looking at the group picture from our annual beach week “ Where did all the little kids go?”. As the proud mother /grandmother I can say they are grown into some pretty awesome people.
Having a problem with water in my ear and not finding my bathing cap to be effective ear protection this is the first year I didn’t do more with the water than just stand at its edge or just gaze at its raw beauty. We were treated almost daily to a dolphin display getting a partial glimpse of their bodies as they displayed their awesome water skills. And then one day in a truly magical moment a dolphin flung itself totally and briefly out of the water. It was a God feeling moment . Can’t get enough of them!!!
Beach Week is our family tradition that just evolved with no thought of making it happen. . Both my husband and I love the ocean and even as young parents with a growing family – five children born in six years – and money tight – we always made time for the beach.
Certain routines have become institutions for beach week. Individual families bring their own breakfast and lunch foods but we all gather together for dinner. Each family unit takes a turn fixing dinner for all – it can be a bit hectic when you are charged with providing dinner for 29 – 32 folks but it is only one night and then how relaxing when your turn is done.
The grandchildren range in age from 12 to 26 , 10 girls and 9 boys. We are blessed with two special needs grandchildren, both teenage boys, one turned 15 in June – he has Down Syndrome – and the other with autism will be 16 in September. Both boys have a special communion with the ocean water – it is hard to get them out of it at days end. We have learned so much from these boys about what really counts in life. Sure at times it can be hard on their parents but there are also some very joyful times, and some ordinary times which is actually the story of all parenting. And I may be full of grandmotherly bias but the siblings and the cousins of these boys are extraordinarily kind and caring.
We usually rent four places to stay, and the families divide up. As the grandkids get older we do not expect them to make it each year but we are touched at the lengths they go to be part of this family tradition. This year one grandchild came from Serbia – two from California, one from Ohio , the rest from mid Atlantic states.
In addition to time in the ocean, there is biking , beach walking , soccer, bocce ball, and crossword puzzle solving. For the cousins and siblings who haven’t seen one another in many months there is also lots of catching up. When the tide is coming in there are sand walls to be built: a project that various ages participate in with varying degrees of enthusiasm. And every year we take a group picture. There is always a bit of a sigh of relief when that is successfully accomplished – sometimes a” fussy” grandmother is hard to please – she wants the “perfect” picture.
Also we have political discussions. In a family of our size one might expect quite a bit of variation in political beliefs. But, that is not the case. Our beliefs are very similar. Some of the children and grandchildren are quite active politically. The only politically touchy time is with those who feel that discussing the present occupant of the White House puts a negative cast on our special time together – we try and honor those feelings.
One night is what we call family talent night and those who want to participate are warmly encouraged. This year it was on Thursday night , the next to last night of our beach week. The grandson who came in from Ohio brought his keyboard with him and shared with us music he wrote. It was amazing. There was singing and guitar playing. My husband enjoys singing. One of his best activities is singing with the children and granddchildren. This talent night ended with a precious granddaughter leading us in “Down to the river to pray” . Since most all knew the words it was awesome. I cried. It was such a fitting ending to the evening.
Who knows how long this family tradition will continue? This is the first year I found myself asking myself this question – as so many of our friends have fallen prey to bad health and are not in the position to take on the loving task of organizing something like a beach week. It all goes back to enjoying each day – embracing its joys and challenges – not focusing too much on the what ifs of life
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