Summer                                                                           Solstice Moon

Standing in the driveway with Kate, waving at the grandkids and Jon and Jen as they took off for the Corn Palace, I felt like Norman Rockwell should be here, getting this down in paint. Kona, our old whippet, was there, too, probably relieved that Gabe, who grabbed the “little dog’s” collar and led her around, was on the way to some other place.

(last night at Running Aces)

I will remember drinking hamburger tea with Gabe in the playhouse, smores around the fire, Thomas and Allison’s visit, our night at Running Aces, hugs from Ruth and from Gabe, lots of them, conversations with Jon and Jen.

This is a functional family.  No Virginia Satir necessary.  And that’s saying something given the families of origin for both Jon and Jen.  They’ve taken difficult childhoods and created a safe, loving, enriching haven for their own kids.  Kudos to them.

Remembering my own visits to my grandparents, hazy memories at best, I couldn’t help wondering what sort of memories Gabe and Ruth took with them as they left.  Probably not the ones I imagine.

I say that because one of my strongest memories of my Grandfather Keaton is of him in green flannel underware with buttons at the back, boiling sugar in water on the stove to make syrup, then sitting down to drink his coffee from the saucer.

Summer                                                                            Solstice Moon

The super moon.  On the night of leave taking.  The family Olson picks up its bags, stuffs themselves in the car and leave tomorrow for the Corn Palace.  Gabe and Ruth gone.  Jon and Jen gone.  The week of family gone.

It has been a revelation.  Ruth is a different, more definite person than the last time I saw her a year ago.  She knows things, offers advice, muses about whether she won or lost money in pretend betting at the track.  (She lost.  $6.  And let that be a lesson young lady.) She loves fairy tales so I gave her a volume from my Andrew Lang collection, the orange fairy book, as well as the refrigerator magnets, words, with which she can create poetry wherever there is metal.  She came across the couch and hugged me when I gave them to her.

Gabe is intense, screaming one minute, sweetly asking, “Can I have your phone, grandpop?” the next.  He takes cell phones and I-pads, navigates quickly to videos or to the app store.  Last night he downloaded two new apps on Thomas Thorpe’s phone.  That surprised Thomas.  He loves Pixar and Thomas the Train videos. Kona, a much smaller dog than Gertie or Sollie, has become his favorite, he walks through the house, his little hand under Kona’s collar.  She follows along with what I would call a bemused expression on her face.  At 12 1/2 dog years you’ve seen it all.

Jon and Jen, both teachers, have given their lives to elementary age kids.  It’s obvious in the way they care for their own.

Kate has has been in grandma paradise.  Cooking, cleaning, playing, answering questions.  She and Ruth have spent a lot of time sewing, this time on Grandma’s fancy Bernina, which its literature calls a sewing computer.  Ruth and I have talked about fairy tales, poker, horse racing, fire building and other grandpa granddaughter stuff.

Both of us have spent time with Gabe, too.  Going through the things he likes to do:  cell phones, sleep,  watch cartoons.  He’s an early riser.  This morning he got up at the same time I did.  They slept in Grandma’s big closet, a sort of kid’s nest.  Gabe said, “Hi, Grandpop!  I didn’t wake you up.”  Nope, he didn’t

Ruth’s a late riser, late to awake even after she rises.  I’m the same way and I relate well to her frustrated attempts to fend off questions and decisions at an early hour.  Early after rising that is.

Summer                                                                              Solstice Moon

The bonfire outmatched by the fire between the clouds will happen tonight.  I’ve moved sections of the ash trunk to the fire pit for seating to complement the metal chairs already there.  Those ash trunk logs were heavy, but my shoulder and my back took them well.  Hallelujah.

(an early traveler’s tale)

Gabe and I sipped tea, first strawberry then chocolate then hot chocolate, from small pink plastic cups in the playhouse.  Gabe wanted to stay there until time for dinner.  When I asked him what he would do, he said, “Sleep.”  This after protesting a nap loudly not a half an hour before.

Jon is busy designing a new deck to extend beyond our sliding glass doors.  He says he has permission to come out for a couple of weeks next year and build it.  Ruth designed one too on her itouch.  It features triangles and steps between levels.

Kate has the evenings delicacies underway.  I know salmon and prosciutto is the main dish and that roasted vegetables figure in as well.  She’s a spectacular cook and organized enough to pull it off.

Mark has gone to Asheville, North Carolina to visit a former colleague from Thailand.  It was good to see him and I’m proud of him for getting his driver’s license.  He’s done well over the last couple of years and it’s good to see.