On This Date in 1998

Sorry for being out of touch for so long. We should have made definite plans to see David Grisman at the Barrymore. That would have given us both something to look forward to. As it turned out, no surprise, I didn’t go, another missed opportunity to see a performer I have long admired.

Life is proceeding at its usual hectic pace. Only 6 more days of school left, and then we shift into our summer schedule. Which isn’t all that different from our schoolyear schedule actually, since it offers no relief from the usual juggling of activities and commitments. The boys will be attending a daycare program at a local school, one that provides them with a variety of offsite activities throughout the summer. Our evenings, at least three times a week, will be taken up with baseball games. We probably won’t venture out of Dane County until the end of June. (Not quite true.)

The boys and I drove to Pennsylvania during spring break. JoAnna was immersed in a special election. Her busy schedule didn’t permit a break. On the drive east, we made a planned stop at a Holidome in South Bend, Indiana, where the boys enjoyed the pool and a large activity area. In fact, they didn’t get to bed until 1 a.m. Party time! Nothing of interest to report from our four days in Warren, except that my dad continues to deteriorate both physically and mentally form Parkinson’s Disease.

Before returning home, we spent a couple of days in Chicago. I splurged and got us a room at a Days Inn on Lake Shore Drive, just across the way from Navy Pier. We visited the Field Museum, Shedd Aquarium, and Museum of Science & Industry, which I first visited when I was Andy’s age and remember being literally cluttered with all kinds of fascinating exhibits. Now there seems to be so much open space and all these rinky-dink displays. Even the boys weren’t overly impressed with this stop. We also walked around Michigan Avenue, bustling with activity, and took a ride on a speeding elevator to the top of the Hancock building at dusk. We had a great time.

Easter weekend the family spent on night in – get ready to cringe – Wisconsin Dells at the Polynesian, a resort hotel with two indoor waterparks. The boys, of course, had been lobbying for this getaway. Perhaps it’s a sign of how much my life has been transformed since those crazy Oshkosh years of excess, but I actually enjoyed myself. Family outings have been somewhat of a rarity this year. The waterparks, a bit of a stretch to call them that, are geared for younger children, Eddie probably being at the upper end of the age range. Andy still had a great time, though. Friday evening, Mom and Dad kept an eye on the boys from the bar, drinking margaritas and playing casino. We told each other we should have got a suite, so we could have some privacy after the boys went to bed.

We spent the Memorial Day weekend in Two Rivers, where JoAnna and I celebrated our 12th wedding anniversary. All day Saturday I was an almanac of historical information. Exactly twelve years ago today, at this very minute, I was getting out of bed with a most horrendous hangover. Twelve years ago today, the men in the wedding party were hanging out in the parking lot of the Lighthouse Inn. Twelve years ago today, I was sweating bullets minutes before Dad’s homily. Twelve years ago today, people had finished inching their way through the reception line and pictures of the wedding party were being taken. Twelve years ago today, Joan Kranick’s husband was wearing JoAnna’s bra at the reception. What a weekend that was!

Saturday evening of this past weekend, after playing baseball with the boys in Nashotah Park in the morning and golfing with JoAnna, Andy, and Larry in the afternoon, we grilled steaks on the barbecue and had a feast. In many ways, it was a perfect day of fun and relaxation. We topped it off by playing cards and sitting around the fire in Larry’s outdoor pit.

Teaching stuff. I survived my class and a series of other teaching commitments without incident. The home front. As a result of years of rough play in the back yard and a blight in the front yard, I’ve been doing some major work as a lawn doctor. At first, I thought about hiring a professional, but the results of my test area in the back yard were very satisfying, so I convinced myself it is a job that I can do. Although I was grousing about its condition in March, the yard looks beautiful now what with the perennials massing and the annuals providing attractive splashes of color. So if it’s not my Middleton Public Library commitments, there’s still plenty to keep me busy.

We now have a new member of the household. Boxer is a little gray-and-white furball, just the cutest little kitty. We got him a few weeks ago when he was 6 weeks old. At that time, I could cup him in my hands. He’s a playful little guy. JoAnna and I have to close our bedroom door if we don’t want to be disturbed at 4 or 5 in the morning. “Time to play,” Boxer says. When I walk home for lunch, he bounces around my feet like a puppy. Today he didn’t appreciate the fact that I was ignoring him while eating my lunch, so he started to crawl up my legs, claws digging into my shins. He didn’t get the hoped for reaction.

I had been resisting the idea of a pet for a long time, remembering our previous experience with Misty, the hairball queen, but JoAnna and Eddie kept pressuring me. They promised that the cat would be their responsibility, and so far I’ve held them to that. As I told JoAnna, Boxer is not going to be like the laundry or the grocery shopping a chore that I take over almost exclusively.

Let us know when you’re going to be in the area. Look forward to seeing you soon.

On This Day in 1998: Monday, March 23

Considering the number of times Andy called you last night, I should probably offer to pay my folks’ new phone bill. He certainly was all fired up about the game. I knew the outcome without asking as soon as I heard his groan of disappointment at 11:05. What a heartbreaking loss, huh?

On Friday morning before I dropped the boys at school, Eddie’s thoughts were not yet completely focused on the trip. While taking care of my last-minute packing, I overheard him say to Andy, “ wish we could leave on Saturday.” Once he considered the full impact of leaving school early, he realized he’d be missing art class.

“But Eddie, if we left tomorrow, we wouldn't be able to stay in a motel,” I explained.

Suddenly art class wasn’t so important anymore.

Eddie repeatedly reminded me to bring along my Walkman. He didn't mention what music he wanted to listen to, so I offered, “Let’s take the Beatles tapes.” We listened to the early Beatles between Rockford and Chicago, the boys impressed with my ability to sing along with every song, rarely stumbling over the words.

During Saturday’s road trip, Eddie listened to the first side of the early Beatles tape three times. He bobbed his head in time to the music and sang the words to some of the choruses. “She loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah.” That bit of exuberance brought a quick cry of “Be quiet, Eddie” from his brother, who was quizzing Dad with questions from the newest edition of Trivial Pursuit.

The Holiday Inn where we stayed in South Bend is literally a flying leap from the Interstate. Due to he placement of the exit, we had to drive a circuitous two miles in a driving snow on slushy streets before reaching the front door to the motel.

The boys were so excited about getting to the swimming pool that they dashed away with the plastic card to open the door to our room before I had a chance to gather up the luggage I had dumped at my feet. They found their way to room 212 without incident, but I did have a talk with them about the importance of responsible behavior – not getting all wrapped up in the excitement of the moment. For the rest of the evening, I didn’t have a single problem with them.

The arrangement at the South Bend Holidome is similar to the one in Stevens Point, although where we stayed the pool was completely enclosed, separated by a glass wall from the arcade. Although I saw no signs to confirm this, it appeared that motel management preferred that guest not use the arcade area in their dripping wet or completely dry swimwear. I observed everyone there wearing street clothes.

The pool was 4’8” at its deepest, and the shallow end was indeed very shallow, so Eddie didn’t need to wear his floatation device. At this request, we had left it in the room anyway. After battling some of the ruggedest Chicago rush-hour traffic I’ve ever encountered and dealing with snowy and slippery condition during the last hour of the trip – we counted at least a half dozen cars that had skidded or spun off the road – I enjoyed the therapeutic effects of the warm pool water. I was ready to stretch out on a poolside chaise lounge when the boys announced that they were done with their swim.

I think that Andy was secretly hopig that the snow would keep us stranded in South Bend for an extra day. He and Eddie had made a few acquaintances Friday evening, which made our present location, in his mind, the best place to be. He exhibited some resistance as I pushed to get us on the road. You know the symptoms. The elongated, “Nooooo!” in answer to any question. Whining. A scowl upon his face. Fortunately, it was a short-lived performance.

We stopped at a Bob Evans for breakfast. Andy, of course, ordered lunch. Eddie inhaled his bacon but only nibbled at the edges of his silver dollar pancakes. My entrée was not quite a scramble, not quite an omelet, but included eggs, diced potatoes, sausage, gravy, and grated cheese. Not the healthy heart selection either.

Our Saturday road trip was uneventful. Andy slept for on hour. Traffic was surprisingly light.

The road trip continued.

Grandma greeted the boys with a shriek of delight, her day-long, pent-up expectations bursting forth like water breaking through a dam. Grandpa got up out of his chair in the dining room, shuffled to the edge of the carpet, and stood unsteadily in the doorway. Even though his eyes were teary, I had the strange, unsettling sensation that he wasn’t quite sure what all the commotion was about. I thought I heard him mumble something about “going to” rather than “coming from”. His confused condition, his obviously worsening case of Parkinson’s, put a damper on the initial moment of reunion for me.

Naturally, Grandma had the dining room table set and dinner just about ready to be served. She had prepared two casserole dishes: one mostly cubes of chicken with dressing pressed into a baking dish, the other a very tasty spinach-and-rice combination.

After supper most of us remained around the dining room table to play Trivial Pursuit, at Andy’s request. The Pennsylvania team beat Wisconsin.

Sunday morning I debated whether or not to be the dutiful son and attend church with Mom, but instead I took an hour-long walk, picking up a New York Times along the way. When I returned home, Dad was sitting alone, in silence, in the living room. I joined him there to read the paper, but the quite soon started to spook me. (Dad is very close to the point where he can no longer carry on a conversation.) I asked him if he wanted to watch TV. He surfed for awhile, demonstrating some remaining manual dexterity, but found nothing of interest. I offered to put on a CD. I selected a Mozart recording and that seemed to momentarily perk him up. I saw a hint of life in his face.