Sometimes, we find, that the inner workings of a three-year-old seem more clear than the complex definitions that you can find in Webster's dictionary. For example, let's take the word captivity. It's hard to know how the word captivity sounds to a three-year-old. For sure it must conjure up some sort of negative connotation. Recently, while my daughter was reading to my three-year-old granddaughter Taylor, she got a peek into the inside of Taylor's inquisitive brain. Included in the reading were several mentions of "captivity". It seems that Taylor could discern from the content that the people that went into "captivity" had done something very wrong. At the end of the reading, Taylor spoke up. She had a puzzled look on her face as she asked, "Now just what is "captivity"? Is it when a person goes into timeout or hail?" I didn't misspell that word at the end of her question, but I did try to spell it phonetically as itcame out of her mouth.
It seems as if they have quite an accent down in Arizona! To her, "captivity" was a simple concept, but it needed to be clarified. I know my daughter, Brianna, opted for the more simplified definition of "time out", but when I think back on the Taylor's question, I wonder what would have happened if Brianna had opted for "hail". Then the next time Taylor got in trouble, Brianna could have said to her, "you better settle down or I'm going to put you in captivity."
Just wandering!
Monday, December 19, 2011
Saturday, December 17, 2011
Feeding Time For Gimpa
I am really excited to have the time to work on a blog post or two today. First of all, a few unrelated note to start. I am very close to being "all better". My sores are mostly healed now. I am very grateful for the help, which included all of my children and my ever beautiful wife. I am also grateful for the medical care and aids who have also cared so kindly for me. Early on, I received a blessing from my home teachers. I have acquired a great faith in their blessing. Should they ever must me to head into my next journey, I will be gone within 24 hours. I'm not telling them that yet, but that day is approaching :-) as miscellaneous pieces, I have a few congratulations to go to my children. I understand that they are not the focus of my blog and I ask you to patiently wade through this for a moment and then I will get back to being Gimpa. I tip of my Fedora and speak with my heart when I say how happy and how proud I am of our children. Seth finished his next to last semester in law school with flying colors. There will be a perfect job for him where he will bring great value to his employers. Brianna got herself well known within the Eyre, well-known for their Joy School curriculum and many other parenting teachings. Even though she's such a great mother, she extends herself to be the very best she can. Jackie has had her hands full lately with babysitting, not just me but other children, mothering, being pregnant, entertaining her mother, and now she is tutoring school children who need a little extra help in either understanding their homework or getting it done. Eric has found his career shifting a bit as he has been quite successful in acquiring, remodeling, and selling homes in Phoenix. He is serving faithfully in his bishopric calling and is dropping weight like a pirate with scurvy. Curtis is well on his way to completing his semester with perfection. He has been interviewing at potential graduate schools and, as you might imagine, he is so well liked by all that they would love to pay him to start graduate school immediately, as in, "don't get back on the plane home and will send someone for your stuff." Hannah writes the most exciting and fun to translate e-mails from her mission. She is teaching and baptizing each and every week as a trainer. She is certainly doing what Heavenly Father wants her to do and she is definitely serving his children with the Hannah Flare. Saren letter late cannot wait for her 16th birthday and makes us count the days down. Of course, she is excited to have her driver's license, but of more excitement to her I believe, is that there is A Preference Dance the weekend that she turns 16 and she can definitely make a date out of that! She is progressing so well in our young women's goals and her spirituality has been growing tremendously. Now, as for Mimi, she is incredible and beautiful as always. She loves being a grandmother and does so many things for each of her grandchildren and they love her dearly. She has gone to full-time work at the place that she loves and she is perfect for them there. Her shifts are currently graveyard shifts, so sometimes during the week she looks a bit tired. It seems to me that she will go to day shifts within the next few months. Thanks for listening to me as I explained those things outside of my Gimpa life that added to my complete joy.
Not ever having the enjoyable experience of nursing a child, I can't say that I'm very much of an expert when it comes to "feeding time". I've witnessed many "feeding times" in my days, respectfully of course, and I have noticed that they bring great joy to both the person offering the food and the person receiving the food. And, as far as being the person receiving the food, I can say I'm a bit of an expert at that. I've certainly had many years of receiving food since my accident and many experiences that have caused me to laugh, such as the time that they passed off plastic grapes on my plate as real grapes and I really tried to eat them. But one day recently, when Taylor and Ellie were here to visit, I received a feeding that touched my heart and gives me joy.
There is something that you need to know, if you don't already, about Ellie. Ellie is not afraid of anything. She loves to get down with Taylor and Maxine and mix it up. She loves to interact with people and animals. She is very social. But I would say that Ellie has the quality of meekness in her personality. She definitely is not shy, but she generally is quiet and observing the train around her. She likes to see how things work out, particularly in the social realm. Independently, she will choose a toy to play with, and he invariably Taylor will decide that Ellie made a good choice only that that good choice was a toy for Taylor. Scene continues with Taylor snatching that toy from Ellie. Ellie will just look at her with her wide and beautiful eyes as if to say, "okay, Taylor I understand that you're not very mature and that you're upset that I took your spot as the baby of the family, no problem. I will just head over there and play with a toy that I really don't like so that you will come and take that toy and then you will be sufficiently distracted." And, that's exactly what she does. Usually, she doesn't get angry at Taylor or anyone else easily, but when she does get angry, there is a good reason. She is also kind and very generous in her sharing. That's the part were feeding, mandarins, and I come into the story.
One morning, Ellie had eaten her fill of little mandarins. She was sitting on a stool at our kitchen island and I was sitting at the corner enjoyably watching her. She had a few mandarins left and it almost looked as if she didn't know what to do with them. Then she looked at me with her huge beautiful is and I could almost see what she was thinking. Oh, I don't believe you've had anything to eat yet Gimpa. I sort of remember that you can't feed yourself. I've watched how my mom has sent you before and I think I can do that if you promise not to bite me! Then she looked down at the leftover mandarins in her bowl and a connected in her head. She picked up a Mandarin in her small fist. It looked rather like she had grabbed a hold of a slippery fish. She thrust her fist out at me and said, "Ugghh". I understood that perfectly as, "here Gimpa, would you like a bite of mandarins?" I leaned over the counter and opened my mouth and was the recipient of perhaps the most tasty Mandarin ever in my life. My eyes moistened. She continued to feed me the rest and without asking if I was done or not, she insisted that her mother opened another can of mandarins so she could continue feeding me. We laughed together as the occasional floppy Mandarin would squirt out and missed my mouth. She loved it when I would not only take the Mandarin, but pretend to swallow her fist. During the rest of their stay, she insisted on sharing with me, but she would not let anyone else do the feeding. Even now, that scene makes my heart swell up with joy. A Gimpa developmental breakthrough for sure!
Not ever having the enjoyable experience of nursing a child, I can't say that I'm very much of an expert when it comes to "feeding time". I've witnessed many "feeding times" in my days, respectfully of course, and I have noticed that they bring great joy to both the person offering the food and the person receiving the food. And, as far as being the person receiving the food, I can say I'm a bit of an expert at that. I've certainly had many years of receiving food since my accident and many experiences that have caused me to laugh, such as the time that they passed off plastic grapes on my plate as real grapes and I really tried to eat them. But one day recently, when Taylor and Ellie were here to visit, I received a feeding that touched my heart and gives me joy.
There is something that you need to know, if you don't already, about Ellie. Ellie is not afraid of anything. She loves to get down with Taylor and Maxine and mix it up. She loves to interact with people and animals. She is very social. But I would say that Ellie has the quality of meekness in her personality. She definitely is not shy, but she generally is quiet and observing the train around her. She likes to see how things work out, particularly in the social realm. Independently, she will choose a toy to play with, and he invariably Taylor will decide that Ellie made a good choice only that that good choice was a toy for Taylor. Scene continues with Taylor snatching that toy from Ellie. Ellie will just look at her with her wide and beautiful eyes as if to say, "okay, Taylor I understand that you're not very mature and that you're upset that I took your spot as the baby of the family, no problem. I will just head over there and play with a toy that I really don't like so that you will come and take that toy and then you will be sufficiently distracted." And, that's exactly what she does. Usually, she doesn't get angry at Taylor or anyone else easily, but when she does get angry, there is a good reason. She is also kind and very generous in her sharing. That's the part were feeding, mandarins, and I come into the story.
One morning, Ellie had eaten her fill of little mandarins. She was sitting on a stool at our kitchen island and I was sitting at the corner enjoyably watching her. She had a few mandarins left and it almost looked as if she didn't know what to do with them. Then she looked at me with her huge beautiful is and I could almost see what she was thinking. Oh, I don't believe you've had anything to eat yet Gimpa. I sort of remember that you can't feed yourself. I've watched how my mom has sent you before and I think I can do that if you promise not to bite me! Then she looked down at the leftover mandarins in her bowl and a connected in her head. She picked up a Mandarin in her small fist. It looked rather like she had grabbed a hold of a slippery fish. She thrust her fist out at me and said, "Ugghh". I understood that perfectly as, "here Gimpa, would you like a bite of mandarins?" I leaned over the counter and opened my mouth and was the recipient of perhaps the most tasty Mandarin ever in my life. My eyes moistened. She continued to feed me the rest and without asking if I was done or not, she insisted that her mother opened another can of mandarins so she could continue feeding me. We laughed together as the occasional floppy Mandarin would squirt out and missed my mouth. She loved it when I would not only take the Mandarin, but pretend to swallow her fist. During the rest of their stay, she insisted on sharing with me, but she would not let anyone else do the feeding. Even now, that scene makes my heart swell up with joy. A Gimpa developmental breakthrough for sure!
Monday, December 5, 2011
Developmental Time Flies by
Time is a topic that just gets better understood as the years go by. Not that you can't understand how time works when you're young, but no matter how much you understand it,you are always lurking around the corner for the next period of time. Surely, it will be better than this period of time right now. So if you're young, try to keep up!
I spent some time this afternoon with my granddaughter Maxime. We discovered this new game. She stands up on the chair next to my bed and tries to slap my elbow. It's kind of like that game where one person lays there hands down with another person lying there hands on top of the other person and the bottom person tries to slap the hand of the other person. I can't play that game very well because my hands tend to stay very curled up to my chest while I'm in bed. They are more in the shape of chicken wings then arms and hands! But, that's what made our game work. My elbows sticks out and Maxine can slap at them. At first, I was not moving my elbow, but as she got better at it, I started moving my elbow and the game was on!
The really great part was that no matter the outcome, she would let out a squeal that is adorable. I'm not so sure her mother thought it was a very appropriate game. I'm hoping that it doesn't teach Maxine to hit. But, everyone has to learn the difference between playing and being serious. Technically, I'm not entirely sure she is at that developmental stage at the moment. But, I felt something that was very soft and very sublime. He developmental moment shared between her and I.
A moment in developmental time for a developing young person passes so very quickly, particularly in retrospect! I spent a lot of time this last month trying to get a first draft done on a book I'm considering writing. That time went fast as well, but at a cost of not taking many of the in-the-moment moments in the developing of my grandchildren. One thing that I've learned is that the moment lost is virtually impossible to re-create. True, the memory remains and we have that, but the treasure is in that moment.
True, developmental time flies by, probably even faster than computer time. The only way I have found to stretch it out is to live in it.
I spent some time this afternoon with my granddaughter Maxime. We discovered this new game. She stands up on the chair next to my bed and tries to slap my elbow. It's kind of like that game where one person lays there hands down with another person lying there hands on top of the other person and the bottom person tries to slap the hand of the other person. I can't play that game very well because my hands tend to stay very curled up to my chest while I'm in bed. They are more in the shape of chicken wings then arms and hands! But, that's what made our game work. My elbows sticks out and Maxine can slap at them. At first, I was not moving my elbow, but as she got better at it, I started moving my elbow and the game was on!
The really great part was that no matter the outcome, she would let out a squeal that is adorable. I'm not so sure her mother thought it was a very appropriate game. I'm hoping that it doesn't teach Maxine to hit. But, everyone has to learn the difference between playing and being serious. Technically, I'm not entirely sure she is at that developmental stage at the moment. But, I felt something that was very soft and very sublime. He developmental moment shared between her and I.
A moment in developmental time for a developing young person passes so very quickly, particularly in retrospect! I spent a lot of time this last month trying to get a first draft done on a book I'm considering writing. That time went fast as well, but at a cost of not taking many of the in-the-moment moments in the developing of my grandchildren. One thing that I've learned is that the moment lost is virtually impossible to re-create. True, the memory remains and we have that, but the treasure is in that moment.
True, developmental time flies by, probably even faster than computer time. The only way I have found to stretch it out is to live in it.
Sunday, November 6, 2011
The Best High-Five I Ever Got
How does one measure a high five? Is it measured by the size of the hand? Is it measured by how hard their hand slapped yours? Is it measured by how well they can perform the maneuver or how direct the slap is? Is it measured by how good you feel after the high five? to be quite honest, I really don't know how the pros measure their high-fives. My tireless efforts at researching have not identified any known rules for this unique piece of our pop-culture. I did uncover some history of the "high five phenomenon" on the source of all truth -- Wikipedia. (Insert here a passionate plea for everyone reading this blog please click the appropriate donation to Wikipedia in the plate as he goes around the room.)
It seems that the history of the high five has very deep cultural roots. In the beginning, when football was played without helmets, pads, unsportsmanlike conduct, offense, or defense, when someone was holding the pink skin ( sometimes substituted with real pigs when no one could come up with a pigskin) crossed the line of the end zone ( sometimes known as the "slaughter zone") and they were still alive, they would reach out to their teammates and say, "give me five" which was actually a sincere plea for five dollars to put towards medical costs incurred during the game.
All of that changed with the introduction of helmets and the migration of slaughter zones from football fields to hockey. Postgame medical cost fell dramatically and salaries for players skyrocketed. When salaries were first instituted, players were paid for their performance rather than their choices of agents. Players went directly to the owners for their pay after each touchdown ( which were known previously as smackdowns for obvious reasons). The players would run to the sideline, find the owner, face him square on, turn around in place and scream, "give me five, please!" Upon which, the owner would tuck five dollars in the players back pocket and then slap him on the back pocket to let him know that he had been paid. This proved to be a bit problematic though when the owners started making uniforms without back pockets and just going through the motions with the players. Still, this early form of the high five made its way into the pop culture, mostly as a way to make fun of dumb football players who thought the owners were still paying them. The slap on someone's back pocket caught on as a way to show that you thought they did a great job or performed something very well. It spread like wildfire. Other sports loved the motion. Baseball players, golfers, bass fisherman, ballet dancers and lawyers. It was the lawyers who finally killed it off. History is a bit unclear here, the documents are classified, but it seems that a certain lawyer named Clarence Thomas was submitted to become a Supreme Court justice and his nomination gotten muddied by some claims that maybe his efforts at freely expressing the motion had gone "a little too far".
Next came football agents and several more lawsuits giving rise to the high five motion as we know it today. The football agents, many who were attorneys also, devised a system whereby one person would raise their hand high and another person, in the case of football this would be the owner, would raise their hand and slap five dollars into the hand of the player. This was an intensely ingenious move by the football agents because the "high five" was done in the open, for everyone to see, including the players and agents. Lawsuits, triggered by "excessive motion" in prior days, were now reduced to virtually nothing. ( yes, Clarence Thomas did become a Supreme Court justice and wrote the majority decision in the case of Thomas V. Jane Doe which struck down all prior cases of "extreme and excessive use of the motion") As four of the expression of a high five in pop-culture, there was no exchange of money ( note exception drug culture) and anyone engaged in the activity as an expression of congratulations or "job well done". There are numerous variations of the high five that spring up from time to time. Most of them are introduced into culture by sports team owners and basically boiled down to "congratulations, job well done, but I ain't giving you a dime" ( most popular examples are the closed hand fist to fist and two or more people jumping out the into each other with their arms down at their sides).
This brings me to the topic of this post: my best high-five ever. ( history is very important so that we don't repeat our mistakes, but sometimes it can be quite long -- like 789 words long) As I mentioned above, there are no rules in "grading" a high-five, but, I will tell you how I did it. In my current crippled state, I cannot physically give a high-five. I can't raise either of my hands above my head and my palms are permanently turned in instead of out. So when I say go for a high-five, people get all creeped out and they think I'm making fun of crippled people who can't high-five. So I don't ever signal for high-fives anymore. So put your thinking hats on and get ready for a metaphoric ride.
Five years ago, on October 29, 2006, I fell out of a tree and the world for myself, my wife, my children and many others changed. ( I would say changed forever, but I know it's not going to be forever, just long enough for me to learn what I need.) that was five years ago when I fell from a high tree. (that sentence was strategically placed for the metaphorically challenged) I had an initial purpose that I had supposed was what I needed to do and why I remained alive. But, the time and activity of that initial purpose has passed and I live on. I have looked up and asked the question of why I remain living countless times and I know that others have as well. I started this blog because I wanted to cry the whole my life as a grandfather so that I could pass that along to future generations. Being a grandfather is a joy that it's difficult to express in words to anyone who is not. Being a grandfather that is confined to a wheelchair and had always trained of how I would run and play with my grandchildren has been a source of many sleepless nights for me. How can I be a grandfather like all of the others?
About 18 months ago, our third granddaughter Maxine was born to our son Seth and his incredible wife and mother Jackie. At the time, they lived in our house in the basement area. Under the best of conditions, it's not easy for a new young family to live in the home of their parents. We have had to constrain our grandparenting wants as we strive to let them make their own family decisions and have their own family time. Soon after Maxine was born Jackie would bring her up the stairs every morning to say good morning to her Mimi and Gimpa. At the earliest of age, she has seen me laying in my hospital bed and sitting in my wheelchair. It seemed to me that from the moment that she could focus on objects further away, when she would come to see me, her eyes would lock themselves into a stare. Or at least I thought it was a stare. Then I noticed that she wasn't staring, but that she was studying intently the object which she held in her focus. I used to joke that she could be the next National Baby Staring Champion. In all seriousness, it is one of the most intense and sweet gazing that I have ever seen. Sometimes our eyes would lock and she would give me an intent gaze of the kind that I could only hope that I might receive one day from the Savior. I am convinced that she knows me as I am and doesn't expect anything different. She doesn't expect me to give her food or drinks. She doesn't grab my hand to take me somewhere and show me something. She doesn't crawl up on my lap or reach out for me to hold her. She doesn't play ball with me, nor does she throw or roll the ball in my way. She has discovered that I can fake dance with my upper body ( which is actually better than my previous real dancing) so she will get out a toy that plays a musical tune and without waiting, she will make it play the tune and look at me to see if I'm dancing. She knows how to use baby sign language and she knows that I know it, but, she will never give me a sign that I can't do. We came face to face to say good morning, eat lunch together, and goodnight most of the days while her parents lived with us.
On Saturday was my anniversary. I am thankful that I can still breathe every day when I wake up. I know that I am a burden to some and they cost to others. Most of my days are filled with intense pain that I can only partially block out. Sometimes I think that there is not much here for me to do. But, amazingly I fill my days and many times it is just being with the grandchildren.
On Sunday, Maxine was being a bit rambunctious and whining during sacrament meeting. Usually, her parents said much more towards the front so they can hear and see better, but our family sits more towards the back so they can take out the folding chairs and cut out a place for me. Jackie got up to walk around a bit with Maxine and then decided to sit down next to us. Well, of course, Maxine wanted to explore her new environment, but we could tell that she was also tired. She sat with Saren for a while and then wanted to her Mimi. She put her head on Mimi's shoulder while Mimi patted her back. Then she looked over at me. It looked as if she was questioning whether or not she could come to my lap. She was close and there was nothing keeping her from sitting on my lap, only herself. I nodded my head and gave her a look with my eyes to come over to my lap. I wasn't really expecting it to come over, but I think she got a little bit of encouragement from Mimi and she stepped over to my lap. Sue sat down with her legs straddling my left leg and laid her head down on my shoulder. I tried to curl my left arm around her to help her to feel safe, but I suspect it was the padding by her Mimi on her back that helped her feel secure. She laid her head there for probably 30 min. I kept looking down because I thought maybe she had gone to sleep, but she didn't love even for a minute. Her eyes looked very heavy, but she kept them open. Many times she looked up at me to see if I looked at her. Once she caught my eyes, she would smile and lower her head to seem as if she was resting. When I sang one of the hymns, she seemed to hum along with me or maybe even tried to sing. I guess after a while she felt that she had rested enough and given me a wonderful feeling as a grandfather. In fact, she had. She had given me the best high-five I ever got!
As a follow-up to the above story, I wanted to mention that while she hasn't laid her head on my shoulders, like she did that time, she did sit on my lap for a while during opening exercises of priesthood. Of course, I was sitting right next to the Wurlitzer Play and Fun home sized organ. It's a good thing that it wasn't on because she tried to play it with her fingers and when that didn't work she tried to play it with her toes! But the really great thing for me was that while she was sitting on my lap, I snuggled close to her and gave her a kiss on the side of her head. The smell was so unbelievable. It was the smell of a young child's head. And the hair felt so thin on my face. And brought me back many memories of sitting with each of my girls when they were young. Kissing their heads, one of those sweet joys of a father, turns out also to be one of those sweet joys of a Gimpa!
It seems that the history of the high five has very deep cultural roots. In the beginning, when football was played without helmets, pads, unsportsmanlike conduct, offense, or defense, when someone was holding the pink skin ( sometimes substituted with real pigs when no one could come up with a pigskin) crossed the line of the end zone ( sometimes known as the "slaughter zone") and they were still alive, they would reach out to their teammates and say, "give me five" which was actually a sincere plea for five dollars to put towards medical costs incurred during the game.
All of that changed with the introduction of helmets and the migration of slaughter zones from football fields to hockey. Postgame medical cost fell dramatically and salaries for players skyrocketed. When salaries were first instituted, players were paid for their performance rather than their choices of agents. Players went directly to the owners for their pay after each touchdown ( which were known previously as smackdowns for obvious reasons). The players would run to the sideline, find the owner, face him square on, turn around in place and scream, "give me five, please!" Upon which, the owner would tuck five dollars in the players back pocket and then slap him on the back pocket to let him know that he had been paid. This proved to be a bit problematic though when the owners started making uniforms without back pockets and just going through the motions with the players. Still, this early form of the high five made its way into the pop culture, mostly as a way to make fun of dumb football players who thought the owners were still paying them. The slap on someone's back pocket caught on as a way to show that you thought they did a great job or performed something very well. It spread like wildfire. Other sports loved the motion. Baseball players, golfers, bass fisherman, ballet dancers and lawyers. It was the lawyers who finally killed it off. History is a bit unclear here, the documents are classified, but it seems that a certain lawyer named Clarence Thomas was submitted to become a Supreme Court justice and his nomination gotten muddied by some claims that maybe his efforts at freely expressing the motion had gone "a little too far".
Next came football agents and several more lawsuits giving rise to the high five motion as we know it today. The football agents, many who were attorneys also, devised a system whereby one person would raise their hand high and another person, in the case of football this would be the owner, would raise their hand and slap five dollars into the hand of the player. This was an intensely ingenious move by the football agents because the "high five" was done in the open, for everyone to see, including the players and agents. Lawsuits, triggered by "excessive motion" in prior days, were now reduced to virtually nothing. ( yes, Clarence Thomas did become a Supreme Court justice and wrote the majority decision in the case of Thomas V. Jane Doe which struck down all prior cases of "extreme and excessive use of the motion") As four of the expression of a high five in pop-culture, there was no exchange of money ( note exception drug culture) and anyone engaged in the activity as an expression of congratulations or "job well done". There are numerous variations of the high five that spring up from time to time. Most of them are introduced into culture by sports team owners and basically boiled down to "congratulations, job well done, but I ain't giving you a dime" ( most popular examples are the closed hand fist to fist and two or more people jumping out the into each other with their arms down at their sides).
This brings me to the topic of this post: my best high-five ever. ( history is very important so that we don't repeat our mistakes, but sometimes it can be quite long -- like 789 words long) As I mentioned above, there are no rules in "grading" a high-five, but, I will tell you how I did it. In my current crippled state, I cannot physically give a high-five. I can't raise either of my hands above my head and my palms are permanently turned in instead of out. So when I say go for a high-five, people get all creeped out and they think I'm making fun of crippled people who can't high-five. So I don't ever signal for high-fives anymore. So put your thinking hats on and get ready for a metaphoric ride.
Five years ago, on October 29, 2006, I fell out of a tree and the world for myself, my wife, my children and many others changed. ( I would say changed forever, but I know it's not going to be forever, just long enough for me to learn what I need.) that was five years ago when I fell from a high tree. (that sentence was strategically placed for the metaphorically challenged) I had an initial purpose that I had supposed was what I needed to do and why I remained alive. But, the time and activity of that initial purpose has passed and I live on. I have looked up and asked the question of why I remain living countless times and I know that others have as well. I started this blog because I wanted to cry the whole my life as a grandfather so that I could pass that along to future generations. Being a grandfather is a joy that it's difficult to express in words to anyone who is not. Being a grandfather that is confined to a wheelchair and had always trained of how I would run and play with my grandchildren has been a source of many sleepless nights for me. How can I be a grandfather like all of the others?
About 18 months ago, our third granddaughter Maxine was born to our son Seth and his incredible wife and mother Jackie. At the time, they lived in our house in the basement area. Under the best of conditions, it's not easy for a new young family to live in the home of their parents. We have had to constrain our grandparenting wants as we strive to let them make their own family decisions and have their own family time. Soon after Maxine was born Jackie would bring her up the stairs every morning to say good morning to her Mimi and Gimpa. At the earliest of age, she has seen me laying in my hospital bed and sitting in my wheelchair. It seemed to me that from the moment that she could focus on objects further away, when she would come to see me, her eyes would lock themselves into a stare. Or at least I thought it was a stare. Then I noticed that she wasn't staring, but that she was studying intently the object which she held in her focus. I used to joke that she could be the next National Baby Staring Champion. In all seriousness, it is one of the most intense and sweet gazing that I have ever seen. Sometimes our eyes would lock and she would give me an intent gaze of the kind that I could only hope that I might receive one day from the Savior. I am convinced that she knows me as I am and doesn't expect anything different. She doesn't expect me to give her food or drinks. She doesn't grab my hand to take me somewhere and show me something. She doesn't crawl up on my lap or reach out for me to hold her. She doesn't play ball with me, nor does she throw or roll the ball in my way. She has discovered that I can fake dance with my upper body ( which is actually better than my previous real dancing) so she will get out a toy that plays a musical tune and without waiting, she will make it play the tune and look at me to see if I'm dancing. She knows how to use baby sign language and she knows that I know it, but, she will never give me a sign that I can't do. We came face to face to say good morning, eat lunch together, and goodnight most of the days while her parents lived with us.
On Saturday was my anniversary. I am thankful that I can still breathe every day when I wake up. I know that I am a burden to some and they cost to others. Most of my days are filled with intense pain that I can only partially block out. Sometimes I think that there is not much here for me to do. But, amazingly I fill my days and many times it is just being with the grandchildren.
On Sunday, Maxine was being a bit rambunctious and whining during sacrament meeting. Usually, her parents said much more towards the front so they can hear and see better, but our family sits more towards the back so they can take out the folding chairs and cut out a place for me. Jackie got up to walk around a bit with Maxine and then decided to sit down next to us. Well, of course, Maxine wanted to explore her new environment, but we could tell that she was also tired. She sat with Saren for a while and then wanted to her Mimi. She put her head on Mimi's shoulder while Mimi patted her back. Then she looked over at me. It looked as if she was questioning whether or not she could come to my lap. She was close and there was nothing keeping her from sitting on my lap, only herself. I nodded my head and gave her a look with my eyes to come over to my lap. I wasn't really expecting it to come over, but I think she got a little bit of encouragement from Mimi and she stepped over to my lap. Sue sat down with her legs straddling my left leg and laid her head down on my shoulder. I tried to curl my left arm around her to help her to feel safe, but I suspect it was the padding by her Mimi on her back that helped her feel secure. She laid her head there for probably 30 min. I kept looking down because I thought maybe she had gone to sleep, but she didn't love even for a minute. Her eyes looked very heavy, but she kept them open. Many times she looked up at me to see if I looked at her. Once she caught my eyes, she would smile and lower her head to seem as if she was resting. When I sang one of the hymns, she seemed to hum along with me or maybe even tried to sing. I guess after a while she felt that she had rested enough and given me a wonderful feeling as a grandfather. In fact, she had. She had given me the best high-five I ever got!
As a follow-up to the above story, I wanted to mention that while she hasn't laid her head on my shoulders, like she did that time, she did sit on my lap for a while during opening exercises of priesthood. Of course, I was sitting right next to the Wurlitzer Play and Fun home sized organ. It's a good thing that it wasn't on because she tried to play it with her fingers and when that didn't work she tried to play it with her toes! But the really great thing for me was that while she was sitting on my lap, I snuggled close to her and gave her a kiss on the side of her head. The smell was so unbelievable. It was the smell of a young child's head. And the hair felt so thin on my face. And brought me back many memories of sitting with each of my girls when they were young. Kissing their heads, one of those sweet joys of a father, turns out also to be one of those sweet joys of a Gimpa!
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Chin Up!
I was lying in bed with Judge Judy on mute ( which, I discovered, is actually the best way to watch that show), listening to DJ Sammy ( dreaming about my Heaven with my family) and trying to decide what to write about today. Then it hit me, right in the throat it got me. I'm talking literally. Everything was going just perfect until my body decided to offer a volunteer full body spasm. My computer stand was set up a bit low and so when my carefully placed and manicured fat belly hit the computer stand, off slid the laptop and landed square on my throat. So now, if you can picture this, Judge Judy on mute and me with a computer pinning me down to the bed by my throat! As you can see, I just don't let a small thing like that put me on mute. Take that Judge Judy.
Being in a position like that got me to thinking ( it doesn't take much!) I am reminded of something Taylor lovingly calls "chokers". The other day she woke up and told her mother that she didn't sleep so well. When her mother asked why, she clearly stated, "the chokers kept waking me up." That being a new word for her mother used in that context, she was curious what Taylor was talking about. So she asked incredibly probing secondary question to Taylor's remark, "So, what did you do?" To which Taylor gave her reply that obviously shows how incredibly smart she is, "I blew them on my sheet." The clarification wasn't so clarified to Bree so she hurried off to Taylor's room to check out these chokers that she had blown away.
I'm going to leave you hanging for just a second. I too have my problems with chokers and I too blow them a way. Where they land is not really up to me and they have chosen many delightful places to land. Okay, you guessed it! Chokers are those ugly yet fascinating little green blobs ( that really is the technical term -- I checked it on Wikipedia) that get bigger and bigger until you can't breathe through your nose and you have to do something with them. Taylor correctly identified how to dispose of them so she could go back to sleep. Blow them on your sheet! Now, if she would have been oh, say, six or 12 months younger, she may have also explained to her mom that she not only blew them away, but that she couldn't stand to see them wasted on the sheet and she got hungry. And the end of chokers!
I'm still pinned down here with my computer, waiting for someone to rescue me. I'm okay and all, I've been in worse situations that's for sure. Oh! And the above reminded me of something that probably only my children have experienced because no other father would play such a trick or have such a distorted sense of humor. Anyway, I loved to cook breakfast for our family on Saturday mornings. I owed as much to their beautiful blue-eyed brunette mother who cooked breakfast every other morning of the week and stayed out late with me on Friday night's. My breakfast of choice was a big pot of oatmeal. Not just any oatmeal, but my "special" oatmeal. It included vanilla, walnuts, cinnamon, brown sugar and my "secret" ingredient. I'm willing to offer up my secret ingredient today because I have a pretty good suspicion that I won't be making any special oatmeal in the near future. Here's the secret ingredient: five drops of green food coloring. And there you've got it --delicious oatmeal that looks like fresh chokers. You'd think that no one would ever eat it right. Well, I convinced them one by one and if you ask them today, they will tell you that was their favorite meal that I ever made ( of coarse, it was the only one I ever made!)
Well, Taylor, I can tell you from experience that chokers have kept me up many nights and nothing feels better than falling asleep after blowing away a choker!
Being in a position like that got me to thinking ( it doesn't take much!) I am reminded of something Taylor lovingly calls "chokers". The other day she woke up and told her mother that she didn't sleep so well. When her mother asked why, she clearly stated, "the chokers kept waking me up." That being a new word for her mother used in that context, she was curious what Taylor was talking about. So she asked incredibly probing secondary question to Taylor's remark, "So, what did you do?" To which Taylor gave her reply that obviously shows how incredibly smart she is, "I blew them on my sheet." The clarification wasn't so clarified to Bree so she hurried off to Taylor's room to check out these chokers that she had blown away.
I'm going to leave you hanging for just a second. I too have my problems with chokers and I too blow them a way. Where they land is not really up to me and they have chosen many delightful places to land. Okay, you guessed it! Chokers are those ugly yet fascinating little green blobs ( that really is the technical term -- I checked it on Wikipedia) that get bigger and bigger until you can't breathe through your nose and you have to do something with them. Taylor correctly identified how to dispose of them so she could go back to sleep. Blow them on your sheet! Now, if she would have been oh, say, six or 12 months younger, she may have also explained to her mom that she not only blew them away, but that she couldn't stand to see them wasted on the sheet and she got hungry. And the end of chokers!
I'm still pinned down here with my computer, waiting for someone to rescue me. I'm okay and all, I've been in worse situations that's for sure. Oh! And the above reminded me of something that probably only my children have experienced because no other father would play such a trick or have such a distorted sense of humor. Anyway, I loved to cook breakfast for our family on Saturday mornings. I owed as much to their beautiful blue-eyed brunette mother who cooked breakfast every other morning of the week and stayed out late with me on Friday night's. My breakfast of choice was a big pot of oatmeal. Not just any oatmeal, but my "special" oatmeal. It included vanilla, walnuts, cinnamon, brown sugar and my "secret" ingredient. I'm willing to offer up my secret ingredient today because I have a pretty good suspicion that I won't be making any special oatmeal in the near future. Here's the secret ingredient: five drops of green food coloring. And there you've got it --delicious oatmeal that looks like fresh chokers. You'd think that no one would ever eat it right. Well, I convinced them one by one and if you ask them today, they will tell you that was their favorite meal that I ever made ( of coarse, it was the only one I ever made!)
Well, Taylor, I can tell you from experience that chokers have kept me up many nights and nothing feels better than falling asleep after blowing away a choker!
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Off to the Park Taylor and I Go
I don't get out as often as some other grandfathers do. But, I have one granddaughter, Taylor, who would like to spend all of her time outside if she could. So on a recent visit here, she was begging everyoneand anyone she could find to go to the park with her. After a few minutes of this, I spoke up and told her that I would like to go with her to the park. She gave me a look like, "Are you sure you're old enough to go to the park?" I was so glad when her mom encouraged Taylor to go with me. Taylor was still dressed in her pajamas, a well-worn Cinderella dress. But, that was very comfortable for her so we took off out the door.
Taylor is such a pleasure to go with outside. She tends to believe that she is responsible for me so she tells me where to go and how to act most of the time, which is fine with me, my wife has been doing that for many years. The park is about two blocks from our house which is just perfect. I let her lead me along. It was a bit windy and the wind had been blowing all night. We spent lots of time looking for dandelions that had turned into wishing lions. When we got tired of that, we looked for other flowers and we saw some beautiful roses. It is a feeling almost beyond description to see her reach out with her little girl fingers and gently cupped her hands around a rose. That's what I call a reverence. She found a rock or two that struck her as pretty and I got to carry them in my lap.
Along the way, there was a broken down riding lawnmower that was positioned after way into the sidewalk. At first, it was fascinating to Taylor. But then, she saw that the way that the lawnmower was positioned made it difficult for me to get my wheelchair by. Then she seemed to show a bit of frustration when she asked me, "why would they just leave their lawnmower right there when it's in your way?" She seemed relieved when I told her that it was okay, I could get around.
Next along the way, was crossing from one corner to the next. Fortunately, we had arrived at the end of the morning shift for our local crossing guard. A crossing guard was a new experience for Taylor. She beat me to the corner and walked around in nervous circles not really knowing what to do. When I got to the corner, I explained to her what a crossing guard was and why they were in important, as well as how we were to proceed. She walked right next to my wheelchair as a crossing guard helped us go by. Once we had completed the crossing, I said thank you and Taylor quickly followed suit with her own thank you which gave the crossing guard a chuckle. Walking along the sidewalk for the next half of a block, several other children used the crossing guard. I was so happy when each and every one of them said thank you to the crossing guard. And each time that they said thank you, Taylor said to me, "that boy/girl said thank you just like I did."
As soon as we arrived at the corner of the playground, Taylor took off for the area where they have the playground toys. I followed and was delighted at her behaviors. There was another little girl, younger than Taylor, who was already playing there. She was accompanied by her mother and the family dog. Now Taylor has developed a "concern" about dogs, so when she had to go around the dog, who desperately wanted to play with her, she took a wide arc. It was all for the best anyway since judging by the incessant scratching, the dog obviously had more fleas than hair
.
Taylor lost no time in developing a friend. She quickly asked her her name and remembered it often in their small girl play world. The other girl was a bit more comfortable, being local, with the playground equipment and monetary gift Taylor at tour. But, Taylor would have none of that and explored on her own careful to stay away from most slides, which I think she is a bit uncomfortable with. Soon, they both went off to the swings. The other little girl needed help from her mother to climb into the swing and needed her mother's help to push her. Not Taylor though! The swings are something that she is very familiar with and has been for a while now. Her little friend was amazed that Taylor knew how to "pump" her legs to keep her swing going. I moved to the other side of the park to get a better view of the swings and to rest in the sunlight.
After 15 minutes or so of swinging, Taylor made her way over to me and asked, "do you think of my mother is still at your house?" I said that I didn't know and that probably we should go check. The walk home was rather uneventful, without a crossing guard. The lawnmower was still there though, it's always there! But this time, Taylor just kind of said to me in a matter-of-fact way, "that guy left his lawnmower in your way."
After we got home, Taylor had a couple of bites of something and then she quickly asked, "Gimpa, would you like to go to the park again?" Fortunately, her mother had another idea of what she wanted her to do. I would have gladly gone with her again, but it took me a two-hour nap to recover from the morning! I know that other grandfathers do activities with their grandchildren that are much more "exciting", like going to Disneyland or boating or fishing, things like that, but I am filled with as much joy and and content to find "excitement" in the simple things of life.
Taylor is such a pleasure to go with outside. She tends to believe that she is responsible for me so she tells me where to go and how to act most of the time, which is fine with me, my wife has been doing that for many years. The park is about two blocks from our house which is just perfect. I let her lead me along. It was a bit windy and the wind had been blowing all night. We spent lots of time looking for dandelions that had turned into wishing lions. When we got tired of that, we looked for other flowers and we saw some beautiful roses. It is a feeling almost beyond description to see her reach out with her little girl fingers and gently cupped her hands around a rose. That's what I call a reverence. She found a rock or two that struck her as pretty and I got to carry them in my lap.
Along the way, there was a broken down riding lawnmower that was positioned after way into the sidewalk. At first, it was fascinating to Taylor. But then, she saw that the way that the lawnmower was positioned made it difficult for me to get my wheelchair by. Then she seemed to show a bit of frustration when she asked me, "why would they just leave their lawnmower right there when it's in your way?" She seemed relieved when I told her that it was okay, I could get around.
Next along the way, was crossing from one corner to the next. Fortunately, we had arrived at the end of the morning shift for our local crossing guard. A crossing guard was a new experience for Taylor. She beat me to the corner and walked around in nervous circles not really knowing what to do. When I got to the corner, I explained to her what a crossing guard was and why they were in important, as well as how we were to proceed. She walked right next to my wheelchair as a crossing guard helped us go by. Once we had completed the crossing, I said thank you and Taylor quickly followed suit with her own thank you which gave the crossing guard a chuckle. Walking along the sidewalk for the next half of a block, several other children used the crossing guard. I was so happy when each and every one of them said thank you to the crossing guard. And each time that they said thank you, Taylor said to me, "that boy/girl said thank you just like I did."
As soon as we arrived at the corner of the playground, Taylor took off for the area where they have the playground toys. I followed and was delighted at her behaviors. There was another little girl, younger than Taylor, who was already playing there. She was accompanied by her mother and the family dog. Now Taylor has developed a "concern" about dogs, so when she had to go around the dog, who desperately wanted to play with her, she took a wide arc. It was all for the best anyway since judging by the incessant scratching, the dog obviously had more fleas than hair
.
Taylor lost no time in developing a friend. She quickly asked her her name and remembered it often in their small girl play world. The other girl was a bit more comfortable, being local, with the playground equipment and monetary gift Taylor at tour. But, Taylor would have none of that and explored on her own careful to stay away from most slides, which I think she is a bit uncomfortable with. Soon, they both went off to the swings. The other little girl needed help from her mother to climb into the swing and needed her mother's help to push her. Not Taylor though! The swings are something that she is very familiar with and has been for a while now. Her little friend was amazed that Taylor knew how to "pump" her legs to keep her swing going. I moved to the other side of the park to get a better view of the swings and to rest in the sunlight.
After 15 minutes or so of swinging, Taylor made her way over to me and asked, "do you think of my mother is still at your house?" I said that I didn't know and that probably we should go check. The walk home was rather uneventful, without a crossing guard. The lawnmower was still there though, it's always there! But this time, Taylor just kind of said to me in a matter-of-fact way, "that guy left his lawnmower in your way."
After we got home, Taylor had a couple of bites of something and then she quickly asked, "Gimpa, would you like to go to the park again?" Fortunately, her mother had another idea of what she wanted her to do. I would have gladly gone with her again, but it took me a two-hour nap to recover from the morning! I know that other grandfathers do activities with their grandchildren that are much more "exciting", like going to Disneyland or boating or fishing, things like that, but I am filled with as much joy and and content to find "excitement" in the simple things of life.
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
How to Use The Word 'Lederhosen' In a Blog
The moment that you are about to gain some critical information about a member of your family feels electric. It's something like being in the middle of a seventh-grade dance floor with a disco ball directly above your head and you learn the name of that beautiful girl that keeps walking right by on her way to dance with someone else. You now have the name of the next love of your life!
That's exactly the way I felt last night when I learned that I had an internationally ranked clogger as a son-in-law! Here's how the whole thing happened:
I was busily engaged in watching my grand daughter Maxine go through a routine of her twirling. I'm fascinated by this, as you might imagine. She's quite good, in fact when I teach her how to start chanting poems as she twirls, I think she will give Rumi a whirl for his money. Apparently though, completely unbeknownst to me, my son, her father has other plans for her. He mentioned something about how she might take some lessons from my one, and only so far, son-in-law. ( This is where the electricity begins to flow.) I'm deep in thought about what the suggestion has to do with Sufism when I hear my son say that my son-in-law is in the internationally ranked blogger. "An internationally ranked blogger?" I'm thinking, and I did this out loud for some senile reason, "I didn't even know Eric had a blog and how did he get internationally ranked? I can even get four people to read my blog?" My wife gave me a look as if I had completely gotten the whole concept wrong and she pulled her chair closer to my ear and she repeated, "No, he said clogger, not blogger, with 'c', not a 'b'!"
Now, the disco ball is spinning out of control. I get a flash of a picture: my daughter, in her beautiful white wedding gown standing next to a man with a green hat, multi-colored shirt, and green lederhosen!
So, apparently the gent is, or was at least, an internationally ranked clogger who traveled over to the very country where they invented the dance. How could I have missed such an important fact like that in my pre-son-in-law interview? You'd think, being Irish and all myself, that I would have included a question about clogging in my interview. I asked him about blogging after all. Now, the electricity is losing its voltage. I must to make room for this new information and figure out how I'm going to apologize to my daughter for missing that important information before the wedding.
I'm not saying that I regret that he slipped by me on the interview. Actually, it's probably a good thing that I didn't ask that question because he's my number one son in law and I think the world of him and more importantly, my daughter loves him lederhosen and all.
Sidebar Question: there's a rumor floating around that you actually would have won the international clogging quartet competition except you split one of your cloggers all the way to the toe and you have forgotten your backup pair. Is that true?
I think it's time to start updating my pre-son-in-law interview because my next letter is obsessed about marrying somebody with the last name "Lutensliemer". I bet he probably has his last name in white letters on the back of his lederhosen.
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