I love to see how our kids love their kids

Although our grandkids live far away, their parents generously include us in their lives through emails, pictures, videos, video chats, cards, finger paintings, and more.

We get to peek into their activities and watch them grow. We get to celebrate achievements. I love to see the ways our kids love their kids.

I wondered out loud recently to my wife – if our kids, while enjoying a developmental milestone with their kids, ever realize that what they are feeling is the exact feeling we enjoyed again and again as we watched them grow from babies to children.

“Will they realize through their kids, how much we loved and enjoyed them as our kids?” She answered, “No, why would they? Did you think about your parents when we were new parents?”

I grew up in a family that never said – never heard – never felt, “I love you.” I guess I should never say never. That day in 1962 when mom surrendered the five of us and transferred our custody to the Juvenile Detention Hall in Vancouver, Washington, she was crying when she said, “I love you,” and walked out the door.

I’d heard of love, is this it? That was the beginning of another chapter in this life adventure. In a week, we were in a foster home, and in a couple more weeks we were in another where three of us served about a year.

I would later brag that before graduating from high school, I lived in 27 houses including JDH and those two foster homes. That might be material for another blog.

I answered my wife, “Yes,” as a new parent in self training, “I actually thought about my parents once or twice.”

I so loved our babies, I held, hugged and kissed, and told them so every day. It felt very natural to me, and caring for them became my highest priority. I would do anything to protect them.

The times I thought about my parents, I wondered why they didn’t feel the same about me. I thanked them in my mind for showing me what not to do.

I love Christmas

I love my memories of Christmases past. The ones when our boys were little are the ones I cherish most.

This Christmas, after a snow cancelled flight and driving a rental car through the night with friends we just made at the airport, Diane and I arrived for a week’s stay at our oldest son’s house in Michigan’s UP.

It was our first reunion with our grown up sons, their wives and kids (is it a re-union if it’s the first time?).

One Christmas morning years ago, Diane gave me a 1957 Chevy . That’s a Christmas memory that’s hard to beat, but this year was our best Christmas yet. Holding and interacting with our little grandchildren was priceless.

Witnessing how our sons love their wives and kids was rewarding. Diane got to snow ski again after many years, and I got to take pictures with my new camera (shot hundreds, shoulda taken more). We played in the house and we played in the snow.

My younger son, Robin, gave me a flying camera, a drone. My first flying lesson began by launching it from the ice covered snow in the garden.

Robin took this shot through his phone, from the camera on the drone, before a take-off

I hope it’s a good memory for my three year old grandson, Kellen, when he hugged the gate for protection like I told him, as the nearly controlled drone buzzed over his head to awkwardly touchdown behind him in the back yard.

This Christmas could have only been better if, on top of being with our kids and grand kids, I received another classic Chevy. Well, actually, my oldest son, Brandon, did give me a 57 Chevy he made with his computer and router.

I hope this gathering was a preview of Christmases future.

A few weeks after returning home, I was in Portland to help my brother, Mark, prepare to move. Later, we drove over to see our brother Dan at his Alpha Stone Works shop. While Dan was showing me the new stone cutter (he went to Germany to buy), he asked how I was and if my cancer was gone now.

I explained that Multiple Myeloma doesn’t go away, but I’m doing okay right now, and that I get tested every three months to monitor the cancer. I told him, “I can live with that….. Get it? While I’m alive – I can live?”

Because, next time the cancer activates, or the time after that – one of those times will be the last time, and the following result will be my life ending.

Usually quite stoic, he let out a hearty chuckle. He appreciated that dark (rest of my life) humor enough to recount it later at the restaurant with all five of us at the table. We all enjoyed a good laugh (though some politely tried to resist), not over the inevitable end of my life, but from stumbling upon a little sarcastic humor in the situation.

*On our last visit to the shore of Lake Superior, we were burning our bare feet on hot sand just a short walk from here.*

I remain thankful to God for a life full of blessings.

A Riddle:

When is a crushed vertebra and severe arthritis good news?

Answer: When it’s not CANCER (Yea)!

We traveled to Florida at the end of July to meet our newest Grandchild, a sweet baby boy named Jory. He’s our third grandchild, and what a joy to meet and hold him. I’m not sure what a three week old can see, but I think he looked me right in the eyes.

*Here he is peaking over Diane’s shoulder, probably wondering if it’s almost time to eat again*

Making our precious time there even better was exploring with Kellen (almost three now) in the jungle that is his yard. I love seeing how our children love their children.

*Kellen in his Monster Hunting hat, ready to guide me through this tropical compound*

Our son and daughter-in-law took us on a real nice Stern-wheeler cruise on The Barbara Lee, across Lake Monroe and up the St Johns River.

We spent another day on New Smyrna Beach in Florida. I was pulling Kellen over shallow waves on a boogie board. He was actually dragging on the sand, but we were both enjoying the illusion.

I’m not in many pictures because I’m usually taking them, but today, my wife picked up the camera and took a few shots of Kellen and me. I’m looking at one now. I could paste it here, but I’d much rather draw a less shocking word picture.

Some things once seen – can’t be unseen. There is Kellen, looking much like a Junior Surfer kid at his introduction to boogie-boarding, and at the high end of the board leash is an actual Snow Man, yes, right there in the shallow, warm, Atlantic salt water; an Oregon snow man, in both color and stature.

Wait – there’s more. When I was a young man, I remember seeing an old man in a swimsuit. I wondered how he could possibly be oblivious to the fact that he was wearing his suit inside out.

Now, here I am with my old, baggy swimsuit twisted halfway around my waist and the pocket hanging inside out. Note to self: NEVER be seen publicly in a swim suit again.

Oh – okay, I’ll post it:

Cliff Hanger?

My last low dose chemo shot was New Years Eve 2015. My Oncologist said to come back in three months for testing. Three months have passed. I went for tests on April 4th and anxiously waited for the results.

I saw my Urologist that same day, my five year and final appointment with him. His office called later to say my PSA (Prostate cancer indicator) was undetectable. I love that word.

My three month test results for Multiple Myeloma, although reported mostly in Medical Greek, were finally posted to a web site I access.

This message was included with the report: “The serum protein electrophoresis exhibits a possible monoclonal immunoglobulin band in the gamma region. Serum immunofixation (IFE) for further identification of this band has been reflex ordered.”

And this: “A reflex test is a laboratory test performed (and charged for) subsequent to an initially ordered and resulted test. Reflex testing occurs when an initial test result meets pre-determined criteria (e.g., positive or outside normal parameters), and the primary test result is inconclusive without the reflex or follow-up test. It is performed automatically without the intervention of the ordering physician.”

That alone does not mean bad news, but it seems a step in that direction. My Oncologist said she would call me if ever there was anything we need to discuss. So far, no call.

In the meantime, there’s much to do as I remain among the living. I finally connected the computer to the stereo, I continue organizing photos, and I actually think I spotted retirement way out there on the horizon.