A Sudden Step Back.....

We woke this Sunday morning to a light rain. It didn't last long and by 10:30 Fenway and I went for our long monring walk. Today we headed to the loop around Veteran's Park so that I could drop a few books in one of the Free Little Library Boxes along the route.

As we left the lobby I realized that a quiet fog was creeping in from Lake Michigan and visibility was low. At one point you really could not see our lake at all even though my brain knew it was right out there. We passed a few of the charter fishing boats just back in with the morning fishermen and some pretty good catches. Cell phone pictures would documen their fish stories.

The fog continued as we approached the end of the marina area and we stepped off onto the sidewalk that loops the park. No lake visible at all.

Suddenly, out of the grey mist, I could see the Denis Sullivan tied up along the pilings at Coal Dock Park....just about 50 yards away. Her masts and rigging, sails tied down, softly appeared in the grey light. She was the only outline I could see.....all the modern parts of Port Washington drifting just out of sight.

Just this lovely, historic tall ship.....tied to the dock as she might have been 100 years ago. Silently waiting for crew and for a breeze to take her back onto the water.

Of course my cell phone was at home....so no photograph to document my quick flashback.

The fog moved on by the time we got back to the condo. I don't know how long she will be tied up here at Port, during the day people will walk by and admire her as they pass. But they won't see her as I did.....a misty window into history.

Beautiful.

A Hallmark Holiday.....

Today is Father's Day. I didn't google it to see when it was "invented" or who started it. Not sure if it is a "Hallmark" kind of holiday or really founded to celebrate fathers.

It was a quiet day here in Port Washington, we were still busy unpacking the RV from the latest western excursion....but there was a golf game on TV (for HOURS!) so that was something Dave chose to happily watch. And our daughter and her family came over on their way home from Milwaukee to take us all out for ice cream and our son called Dave from Seattle. And I was busy with the final RV unloading and laundry (after five weeks on the road I did have some catching up to do!)

So we celebrated Father's Day in a quiet sort of way.....but then I began to think about it a little more. And I wanted to thank my husband for being a really hands-on kind of Dad. When the kids were young....he wasn't "babysitting" when he cared for our son and daughter......he was fathering. I could go off for the day.....or sometimes several days, and know that Dave and the kids would be fine. Did I usually leave a few frozen meals for him to serve.....yes.  But he was perfectly capable of making dinner, throwing in a load of laundry, changing a diaper, giving a bath, chauffering kids here and there, ironing a shirt, vacuming the carpet. Whatever was needed......he could do it.

I think that Dave was in the "first" generation of really hands-on fathers.....and the "job title" has only grown and changed since we were raising youngsters in the 1970's. I look at our son and our son-in-law and see dads that are even more involved than he was.

My nephew in Chicago is celebrating his first Father's Day.....and he is truly a hands-on kind of Dad. In fact he took his little guy out to lunch with the "boys" just a few weeks after he was born. Little guy happily sleeping in his car-seat while new Dad spent a little time with friends. This is a new baby....and new father is already completely comfortable in his role....and new mother is confident in his abilities.

I think "fathering" has changed since I was a child. My dad went to work, came home and was a presence in the house (and he did barbecue) but my mother's daily work was much more family oriented.

Sometimes change is very good.....so here's to the Fathers out there who are actively fathering! Keep up the good work guys....the results are so worth it.

I Couldn't Say It Any Better.....

I am one third of the way through Ann Patchett's book, Run. She is one of my favorite authors and her novels always give me food for thought.

I won't even begin to summarize this novel....but I will tell you it's hard to put down. A somewhat splintered family, young adults making career choices, a father who was once Boston's Mayor....and a sudden event that throws everything and everyone into turmoil....all part of a really good read.

But a few sentences hit me.....probably because of the American political process we are now contemplating. The author states, "Politicians never mentioned the details of life because of course the details that appealed to one person could repel another, so what you wound up with in the end were a long string of generalities, stirring platitudes that could not buy you supper."

We listen to promises and opinions and proposals......but results seem to be in short supply. Until our political parties begin to actually work together we will just continue with "generalities and stirring platitudes."

We could, as the electorate, vote for the best and most qualified candidate only to see her or him fail at every front because the right side of the aisle won't reach across to the left side to find any common ground.

Generalities and stirring platitudes....we deserve and should demand better.

A Horrible History Repeats Itself.....

Dave and I were on a business trip to Arizona in April 1995. Meetings and golf for him, area museums, galleries and shopping for me. Evening cocktail parties and dinners for both of us. A five day work/vacation....and in the middle of it all the news hit about the bombing at Oklahoma City's Federal building. I remember distinctly as I walked through a mall that day, wondering how everything around me seemed to be going on as normal....when life in America was suddenly anything but.

And then came 9/11.....and, as a nation, we learned just how vulnerable we could be.

And then, since 2009, we've had one news story after another about "the largest mass killings" in America. Ten in Samson, Alabama in 2009, 12 in Reno, Nevada in '06. Followed by Aurora, Colorado, Washington DC, Binghamton, New York, Fort Hood, Texas, San Bernadino, California.

And the children and teachers in Newtown, Connecticut.....and 32 souls in Blacksburg, Virginia.

And then came this past Sunday night....with the new horror in Orlando and a new "high" of 50 dead and just about as many more wounded.

So you can send a prayer, or post a supportive message, or attend a vigil or a church service. Once again flags will be at half mast, and leaders will talk about our strength as a people when faced with this meaningless slaughter of innocent individuals.

You can pray for a God to intervene, you can say love will triumph.

Except He/She won't and love can't.

As long as individuals or groups with the will to kill others and the access to weapons they need to do so, this will continue.

I wonder what the head count will be next time.

Crossing the Bridge......

The call came early on the morning of October 31, 1997. Our son's excited voice calling to tell us we were now grandparents. Our world shifted in an instant.....and the distance between Boston and Delaware suddenly seemed way too great. I hung up the phone and the tears started....happy tears welcoming Alexander John Woodard into the world.

Four days later I drove up to visit and practice my new grandmothering skills while trying to be of help to this new family. I stayed for three days, doing some laundry, making a few meals, running the vacuum....but mostly I held Alex.

At night he was my "roommate". I slept in a single bed across the room from his crib....a perfect spot for a visiting grandmother. It was my "job" to pick him up when he woke, and sit and rock him for a little while so his mom could get a few more minutes of sleep time before nursing him. In the silence of the night I would rock this new baby...staring down into a beautiful little face. Alex seemed to look back at me, furrowed brow demonstrating serious concentration. He spent some alone time in my arms while I loved him and thought about his family, his world, his future. So many exciting things lay ahead....so much to explore.

Sadly, for us, we've always been the long-distance grandparents and didn't get to spend enough one-on-one time with our son's two sons. I wasn't the grandmother who was close by for the growing up moments.....but I was the first grandmother to ever get to hold him. On June 10, 2016 we were north of Seattle watching our first grandson cross a bridge. High school graduation meant leaving childhood behind and moving on to more new adventures. Our Alex has grown into an accomplished and handsome young man. As we watched there were a few more quiet tears hovering in my eyes.....but I tried not to let them show.

So now our first grandson goes off to college in the fall. So many exiciting things lay ahead for him....so much to explore. We'll be the far-away grandparents watching at a distance.

Consider the possibililties.

Who Picks the Produce........

After leaving Yosemite we headed to the highway system to take us north through central California. From Sacramento to Redding we were surrounded by endless acres of fruit trees, low growing crops we couldn't identify and vineyards. Thousands of acres of fruit trees......we saw signs for apricots, a Halo processing plant, peaches, pears, avocados, oranges and more. It seemed to go on forever.

We did not see many people so I assume it is not time to harvest all of the bounty growing in the area. Occasionally we saw a few people, bent at the waist, doing something off in the middle of a sundrenched field.

So it got me to wondering....again. We walk into our neighborhood grocery stores and are met with a huge variety of fruits and vegetables....just waiting for us. So when it is time to harvest the orchards and the fields it must, obviously, take thousands of hands to do the work. I don't think most of these fields are harvested by machine.

So who are the souls who bend their backs, or climb the ladders wearing straw hats to provide some shade....as hour after hour they pluck or pick the produce, bag it up and get it to a waiting truck? Seasonal work....moving from place to place....harvesting California's bounty.

Who are they? I'm pretty sure there are not too many middle class Americans willing provide the labor. I'm not saying I support illegal immigrants crossing from Mexico and Central America......but who picked that strawberry or orange or grapes that I purchase at my grocery store?

Again......I realize how fortunate I am.....and my kids and my grandkids. They are not out in the fields. Just wondering......who is?