Category Archives: Family

Home Again, Home Again

Summer                                                               Hiroshima Moon

Back home. Aurora far away, Ruth and Gabe faraway, the mountains, far away.  Here the garden is close, the bees, Kate, the dogs, the city.  Home.

Each time I go to Denver a piece of me wants to stay.  The mountains, the grandkids, a hip urban scene.  And yet all of me wants to come home.  To come here where my friends are, where our home and land is.  Where I’ve lived for the last 42 years.  Where my adult memories are.

This American dislocation creates problems for families.  My sister in Singapore.  Brother in Saudi Arabia.  Son in Denver.  Son in Georgia.  Everybody knows long distance relationships are tough.  When they’re this spread out, as many are, it makes holding the family together a bigger, and more important, challenge.

The humidity.  Home.  The mosquitoes.  Home.  The lakes. Home.  The north. Home.  Home takes all these things geography, climate, weather, friends, family, memories, politics, art and wraps them up in a complex package of which we are an integral part.  That’s how we know where home is.

It may seem pedestrian in a global age to prefer the particular and the local, but I do.  And have.  A Midwesterner raised and now an Upper Midwesterner, I’m happy here.

 

La Revedere

Summer                                       Hiroshima Moon

The Hiroshima moon rose in sickle form over the front range, its young light just above a bank of storm clouds.

Left Jon and Jen’s tonight around 9 pm.  Ruth came up and grabbed my legs, put her head against my waist.  She didn’t say anything.  I hugged her, told her I loved her and left.

Though children are never as innocent as we credit them, they are often transparent in their feelings, which appears as innocence.  Perhaps it is innocence, to be out there in the world as  you are, with no guard up.

We may mature as we age, but to the extent that we become opaque to the world, we will never again know innocence.

Innocence is the rising of the young moon, slender and beautiful, perhaps aging can be the waning of the same moon, a sickle slender and beautiful.

Grandchildren touch the heart in a way no other relationship can.  Ruth and Gabe occupy that part leaning toward the future; the part of the heart that will not die, but will live on in the lives of others.  In a profound sense we need our grandchildren far more than they need us.

Without them most lives hit a barrier as bleak as the dark of the moon, extinction.  With them the heart never stops beating, it transfers bodies, ready for another lifetime.

 

Living History

Summer                                       Hiroshima Moon

The Colorado History Museum tore down a perfectly good building filled with wonderful exhibits and built a new building in its place, a building with none of the exhibits.  A strange decision on their part, it seems to me, but, hey.  It’s their state.

In its place the same lot now contains a brand new history center, a large parking ramp and a court building, presumably a state court since the Colorado capitol building sits less than two blocks away.

The Colorado folks opted, in their new building, for a different approach to museology.  Whereas the old building had a cabinet of curiosities feel, it was a good one by my lights.  Still, its exhibits were static and didactic, familiar in style to any one acquainted with museums during the 20th century.

The new history center spikes on the engaged learner end of the new museological perspective.  The lobby has a ceiling made of wood from pine beetle destroyed trees.

Just inside the museum proper the first attraction is the floor.  A huge, maybe a hundred foot square map of colorado laid out in terrazzo tile, shows rivers, mountains, lakes and a few other key locations like Denver.  Latitude and longitude markings border the map on which sit two time machines.

Each machine has a distinctive steam punk style with interactive screens and an amazing feature.  The amazing feature is this:  if all using the time machine agree, it can move.   Along the map are several small circles denoting regions like central colorado or southwestern colorado.  The time machine works by region, so that when it is placed in central colorado it’s screens show historical artifacts, e.g. ledger books created by captive native american artists, peculiar to that location.

Near the time machine the visitor can pass through into Destination Colorado.  Through the doors is the town of Keota.  It has a school, a general store, a farm, a rural home and a tin lizzy.  In addition there is a structure called the little house on the prairie.  It has sickle moons cut out of its door.

Each one of these installations is interactive.  The store has items you can take off the shelf and buy.  Each item has a price equivalent to its price in 1920.  A cash register with mechanical keys allows a child to stand on a box and ring up tea, toothpaste, canned milk and baking powder among other things.  Ruth loved the cash register.

She also became fascinated (obsessed?) with another feature of the general store.  There were two wooden boxes with small rectangles inside, enough to hold a dozen eggs.

The eggs came from chickens set up in nest on the farm.  Every once in a while the chicken would cackle, a thunk could be heard and a small hand would reach inside the hole underneath the hen.  After retrieving a wooden egg, it goes in a small wire basket.

Once the child collects sufficient eggs they can take them back to the general store, put them in the wooden boxes one at a time and receive $.23 a dozen.  This is intermittent reinforcement, the strongest reinforcement in operant conditioning and it hooked Ruthie.

We had to stop her after she had collected buckets of eggs.

She also drove the tin lizzy which rides to Grandma’s house by way of a movie showing through the windshield, goes through rain spritzed down from a fan unit above the car and shakes and rumbles across the prairie.

Pretty fun.

Upstairs there was, drumroll please, a skiing exhibit.  Ruth jumped out of her skin at that one.  There she tried out a ski jumping simulation, crashing both times.  “That’s not what happens when I really ski,” she said.

The most impressive moment was, however, yet to come.  A mining exhibit contained another simulation, this one faux blast that required precision placement of dynamite in a particular sequence.  The small movie showed a pattern, then the pattern disappeared.  Based on that brief glimpse the explosives person had to press faux dynamite sticks into the wall in a particular sequence.  After they were in, a plunger was available to set them off.

After the plunger an explosion came on the screen and the mine told you how you did.  I watched older kids try. Their explosions caved in the mine.  6 year old Ruth went up, watched the movie, looked at the pattern, very seriously went over and pressed the dynamite then went over to the plunger and set it off.

“Excellent work, miner,” the movie said. “You brought the rock down in tunnel and did not hurt the mine shaft.”

Ruth ran between exhibits, trying this and that.  Excited.  A great trip.

Afterward we had ice cream.

Sleepless in Denver

Summer                                      Hiroshima Moon

Everybody came over here to the hotel and we jumped in the pool.  First time I’ve been in the water in several years.  I haven’t missed it.

Is there anything better than a six year old granddaughter running down the hall yelling, Grandpop, and jumping into your arms?

Gabe, four year old grandson, coming from the opposite direction, also yelled Granpop, but kept running right past me to his mom.

Later on we ate at a Denver Bucca’s.  Another good day.

Not finding sleep easy tonight. Pillow’s don’t work well and the cooling, while not broken, is not up (or down) to my usual standards.  That is, Kate’s.

Tomorrow the Olson family heads out for an 8 a.m. bris.  The mohel could not make another time.  Since this rite of passage, circumcision, occurs 8 days after birth, it doesn’t leave a lot of room for negotiation.

I plan to eat breakfast, then write.

arriving only as one has to go

Summer                                      New (Hiroshima) Moon

“All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy; for what we leave behind us is a part of ourselves; we must die to one life before we can enter another.” – Anatole France

Visiting grandchildren, Ruth and Gabe, and their parents, Jon and Jen, underline the truth of this France quote.  To leave the days of kindergarten and pre-school, to venture off even to elementary school puts us in another world than the one left behind.  Anyone who has ever become a senior in high school or college can attest to the bitter-sweet feeling of arriving only as one has to go.  Sort of like becoming a senior citizen.

Jon and Jen were shaken by the news from Aurora this morning.  The shooter lived three blocks from Montview Elementary where Jon teaches still and Jen used to teach.  They do not know yet if friends or students or former students got shot or killed, but they know it’s not only possible, but likely.

Let this serve as a reminder to us.  Often we read of these acts and shake our head.  How could he?  Then, have a cup of coffee, a final bite of bagel and get ready for the rest of the day.  But, in each of these, someone’s friend has died.  Someone’s brother or sister.  Someone’s son or daughter.  These are people loved and loving, this morning’s news for a brief window, but dead forever.

However, as the world is, we got our things together and headed into the Rocky Mountains to the small, quaint former mining town of Georgestown, drove up a windy road and parked in the Georgetown Loop Railroad parking lot.

I picked up the reserved tickets and we rode this short rail line across a photogenic trestle bridge, up threw sweet smelling pines, beside rushing mountain streams.  Perhaps predictably the adults had a great time.  Gabe spent much of the ride with his fingers in his ears.  A steam whistle.  Ruth huddled next to me off and on.  She feared falling out of the train.  It has open to the air cars which offer an immersive ride, but do not provide the safety of windows and walls.

We had pizza at Beaujo’s in Idaho Springs afterward, a Colorado sacred spot for pizza lovers and I now know why.  Get there if you’re out here.  I had the sicilian.  Wonderful.

In Colorado

Summer                                    New (Hiroshima) Moon

Jon and Jen teach in the Aurora Public School system.  Their home and this hotel are on the northern edge of Denver which abuts Aurora.

As I ate breakfast this morning, the news flashed images from a shooting at a theatre.  12 dead.  64 injured.  I kept watching for a location but they never gave one.

Returned to the room, fired up the computer, headed over to Refdesk and, whoa.  Aurora, Colorado.  Right here.  Where we are.  If Ruth and Gabe were a bit older, it might have been a movie choice for us.  Unlikely we would have ended up in that theatre, but that it would have been possible?  Chilling.

My mind hopped, as I’m sure many others will, to Littleton, a southern suburb of Denver where the Columbine shootings occurred.

When you’re a predator, you go where the prey is.  Our dogs spend hours, sometimes whole days circling our far garden shed, digging, barking, trying to get at the rabbits and mice that use the space underneath it to breed.

If you’re a student predator, you go to a school.  If you’re adult, you might head to McDonald’s or to a workplace or to a crowded movie theatre.

The Dark Knight Rises.  The killer dressed in black, had a gas mask and came into the theatre in a cloud of smoke, a gas he dispersed.  Again, chilling.

 

Finally, My Ballerina Dress Is Ready!

Summer                                    New (Hiroshima) Moon

Kate.   This one’s for you.  Ruthie picked up the blue ballerina dress, held it in front of her, twirled and said, “Finally, my ballerina dress is ready.”  When I asked to take her picture with it, she said, “Nooooo.” and ran out of the room.  So, no pic, but one very happy little girl.

I do have pictures of the remodeling.  The master bedroom bath is impressive.

Jon barbecued chicken, romaine (very good, Jen saw it in Reader’s Digest) and put out beans and a four-bean salad.  Excellent.  Before dinner Ruthie and I painted.  We produced a collaborative work that will require small pictures of Ruth, Gabe, you and me.  It’s something.

Sollie is still ornery.  He recognized me, wiggling and leaning.

The landscaping is coming along well.  Jon’s got such a good eye and his plans make a lot of sense.

Gabe made a piece for me, too.  A black handprint.

This is a warm, creative family.  A pleasure to be with.

 

End of Days (hot days)

Summer                                                             New (Hiroshima) Moon

Every saga has its end.  Ragnarok finished of the epic of the Norse Pantheon.  The apocalypse and the rapture close up time for Christians.  The Jews are still waiting for the Messiah.

Yes.  In fact air conditioner repairman has come, laid hands upon our unit (ha) and declared it ready again for service.  Even as I write this the air in the house has its humidity squeezed out and its temperature likewise sent off into the atmospheric collective.  We will soon be cool.

Hallelujah!

Leonard Cohen, Hallelujah

49 Years of Service

Summer                                                  Under the Lily Moon

Yesterday Kate worked her last shift, finishing off a career that began as a scrub tech in Des Moines in 1963.  That’s 49 years.

Tomorrow she leaves at noon for her high school reunion in Nevada, Iowa.  Her 50th.  (That’s a long a on the first one in Nevada, for those of you uninitiated.)

And, perhaps the greatest irony, today comes the Supreme Court’s ruling on the Obama Healthcare legislation.  Kate’s a staunch supporter of universal health care.

She’s been right and ahead of her time on many, many issues in medicine.  She’s right on this one, too.

(this picture taken on the first day after Kate left full-time work behind.  About three years ago or so.  She knows where she is.)

A Career Finished

Summer                                             Under the Lily Moon

Kate left for work for the last time tonight.

She’s had a difficult and contentious time with Allina as they have moved more and more into medicine delivered by fiat rather than from an autonomous physician.  There are lots of problems: cook book medicine, coding for maximum revenue, treating the physician as an employee and giving them speed-ups in terms of number of patients per hour to see, pay differentials between the gatekeeper doctors, the primary care providers like pediatricians, internists and family practice and the surgeons/specialists, pay differentials in the hundreds of thousands of dollars.

It’s comforting in a way to know that Allina has screwed her on her last night of work.  She just called me and told me she’s the only doc on in after hours care.  There are supposed to be three.  Her last night.

Come on, guys.