Category: FAMILY

After many years Papa’s cardiologist has ordered a stress test with thalium scan. It is not a diagnostist test as coranary disease was obvious with Papa’s 1988 quadruple by-pass surgery. She’s looking for progress (or is deterioration the more fitting term?) of my condition. However, the test is not necessary. I passed a more difficult test just this week.

The youngest grandson ended up being cared for by yours truly for eleven hours. Friday was not our usual day to help but when the regular four day Nanny became ill someone needed to step in. This grand-father fought off arthriris long enough to lift his feet high enough to count as a step in. The actually fit grandparent was off on an all day hike/trek. From 8:45 AM to 7:45 PM Papa outdid a Bruce Protocol procedure. Passed. Score does not matter as survival only criteria of note. Beloved grandson’s, not just mine. I did require help at the playground if the little rascal had attempted an escape from my reach/capacity. Without my daughter’s help I would have eliminated a playground visit. However, play activity helped with a good nap. (Kid took one too.)

Always remember that stress is bad. When ordered in the medical community take it with a grain of salt. When it comes with a visit of a grandchild it is a gift of love. The second is an absolute piece of cake. More please.

Today is the shortest day of the year. Throughout history various cultures celebrated the event. Seasonally, it marks the first day of winter. When I was young I did wonder if yesterday/tomorrow actually felt longer. (Mere seconds per experts; which leads to the questions: “whoever noticed the difference thousands of years ago? And, how was the measurement accomplished?”) Perhaps it all started so that Pagans had a reason to party. The exact timing of the event may have had to wait until more recent history when an aspiring astronomer put a zillion and a zillion together for a specific calculation to facilitate party planning. (Tomorrow’s the big bonfire! Gather the Yule Logs.)

Papa once had high hopes of being a crumudgeon and rolled over and fell back to sleep on this festive day. However, my ‘ol DNA had more Pagan than the whiner gene so it’s up and at it. Solstice 2022 began as a sunny day with a clear sky. Now, it’s maybe a short walk or even shorter time at a gym as active celebration. Or, some contemplative time. One old tradition was making wishes for the future. ( I wish for candidates that do not age qualify for Medicare.) Improving one’s self can wait until New Year’s resolutions. Or, even later.

Of course, the Winter Solstice marks closing in on Christmas. Only one grandchild will travel this season. Fittingly into an aptly named winter storm. Locally, cold and ice is forecast to be fast approaching but winter’s worst cannot dampen the joyous spirit of being with family. Together with you is my most important wish as it is every year.

The recent assassination attempt on the life of a US Supreme Court Justice should send shivers through our nation. The judiciary is a vital pillar of our constitutional republic. Shameful enough that someone violated the privacy and integrity of that third branch by leaking a draft court opinion. An act of selfish disregard of an institution of contemplative and congenial endeavors. That act also sullied the reputation and potential careers of fellow employees. No spine exists in the leaker’s character to step forward and self-identify. (At least until a book/promotional deal is funded.) No honor for the special interest/idealogue/group who publicaly posted home addresses of justices.

Armed with a gun, knife and implements for burglary/hostage taking a young man upset by the leaked opinion arrived at the home of a justice of our Supreme Court. Luckily, US Marshals were on duty to provide security. The assassin apparently walked away at the sight of armed protection. Initial news reports indicated that the would be killer then called 911 and turned himself in. Calling 911 while blocks away from his sighting of law enforcement didn’t quite make sense to Papa. Run away or come back to strike another day or seek out a different target. Hard to know with a dearth of news; especially from a few major news sources that didn’t judge the story big enough to get near the front page.

However, as an old time news broadcaster used to say, there’s always the rest of the story. The potential assassin’s strike to the heart of the rule of law met up with the intercession of his Guardian Angel. Thankfully, after seeing security at the justice’s home, the wanna be killer texted his sister. His subsequent call to 911 was apparently made at her urging. An act of sibling love that may have prevented untold damage our country. A lesson that in tough times, contact with a sibling is a good idea. A small portion of good news on this Flag Day.

It was a great day to bake cookies and concoct other Christmas delights with grandkids. Memories were especially stirred when baking wondrous molasses cookies from back east. Many a Christmas visit to the Berkshires included a trek on Route 7 to the mecca of holiday aromas. What cookie could go wrong with molasses, brown sugar and spices? Along with butter. Lots of butter.

It was a fun day to experiment with this tried and true recipe. First, we baked one batch in a conventional oven and a second in a convection oven. I didn’t know we had two oven options to use. Thanks for bringing this to my attention. I assumed convection was a misspelling on the control panel. Never used it. I guess convection is a recent invention; similar to cell devices that also have more than one function I’m told.

Taste testing different baking outcomes was enlightening. Conventional won. Be still my heart but I even took the bold step of baking some dough not yet refrigerated for 24 hours. That did make a more significant difference. Fats need time to cool. Flavors expand to decadency. It’s been a good baking season. A rough calculation is 92,633 calories.

The highlight of the day was learning two important things. First, the word “chork”. Despite my insistence there was no such word, the whipper snappers proved me wrong. A fork/chop stick? Really? But, the word exists. Secondly, my chest nearly exploded with pride when the little rascals tried to bamboozle Papa. They attempted to fabricate a fictional definition of chork. They were teasing Papa. Devious minds sought to trick Papa. I have never been so proud. They are getting it. All of Papa’s silliness and deceitful joking was coming home to roost. Gone are the days of perplexed glances from them as they wonder if Papa is serious or simply crazy. The shoe is on the other foot. In my twilight years I will be no match for their nimble minds. It will be me that will be left dangling in torment when they dash away after a joke too subtle for me to grasp. It is a wonderful life.

DECEMBER 7th 1988 was as good as any other day for quadruple bypass surgery.

HOW DID SUCH A NICE PERSON GET INTO THIS MESS?

SLOW FREIGHT: “Heart disease is insidious,” intoned my somber cardiologist. I heard him loud and clear. He had my full attention. The previous day he gouged a new access route to my heart. “I don’t think we’ll find much,” was his prophecy at the start of my catherization. I felt pressure on my arm when he began his push towards my heart. Within seconds he said, “We’re in the heart.” My exact thought was what’s this “we” stuff? I was not an active participant. I was flat on my back, staring in the opposite direction from his cutting and insertion activities.

“Insidiousness” translated to quadruple by-pass surgery for me. Heart disease had been a slow moving train chugging mindlessly forward. Clog, clog, clog. Suddenly, while futzing inside a chamber, my cardiologist threw a directional switch. To a fast track. On an express train. All aboard!

WHAT DO YOU MEAN I CAUSED MY OWN BYPASS SURGERY?

I had no problem accepting responsibility for the quadruple stitches deep inside my chest. I know how to assign responsibility. I do not shirk from personal liability for the damage I did to myself when I wandered, ever so slightly, from a dedicated life of moderation. I was a big boy. I know what causes heart disease. The seven causes of coronary artery disease were graphically depicted on huge wall charts lining the corridor of the hospital’s coronary care unit. Each day of my recovery I shuffled along those halls with a distant, forlorn expression. Life sustaining goo spewed forth from an I.V. tree that I dragged with me on those strolls. In those days walking the length of a hospital hallway represented a wondrous medical outcome in my mind.

Being alive never hurt so damn much. but, it was a good pain. Because I was not chugging along at a brisk pace I had plenty of time to be indoctrinated by the cardiologists’ charts of condemnation. You should know that medical folks are not bashful about instilling guilt in their patients. Perhaps that is why so many of our best hospitals are Catholic. Drawings of bright red coronary arteries, each as wide as an autobahn, were depicted. Alongside were faint sketches of crinkling, pinkish arteries plugged with waxy muck. The bright arteries looked vibrant, as if joyous that the blood of life sluiced smoothly against their walls. The unhealthy arteries looked stressed and tired, ready to throw in the towel by clutching a passing clot in order to rest in perpetuity. The contrast between obviously healthy arteries and my shamefully abused pathways triggered a sincere determination on my part to change my life. So, naturally, I began to bargain with God.

With thirteen tubes, six intravenous lines and a pair of electrode “jump starters” protruding from my limp body, bargaining seemed a wise choice at the time. However, bargaining near a precipice is not a road for you to travel. Don’t get into that situation. Live a healthy life. Never smoke. Exercise on a regular basis. Limit unhealthy foods. Avoid being overweight. You can’t dodge family medical history but all the more reason to pay attention to your health. Chase the elusive goal of moderation. Did I mention never smoking? Never, ever.

December 5th

The wonderment of the holiday season continues. St. Nick’s night is mainly celebrated in the Midwest. That is especially true near its German and Dutch enclaves of old. I remember it well. It amounted to a sneak peek of Christmas. It was dark outside very early and so there was mystique to hanging a stocking even if bedtime was 8 or 8:30. St. Nicholas was the patron saint of children. Noted for being generous, a tradition arose that he’d leave gifts for kids the night before his saint day.

Thus, to verify that myths are true, we were up and at it the next morning. ( An early rising ritual that did not take full root during Papa’s adulthood.) It also was practice for Santa and the Easter Bunny. And, not to be overlooked, for the dime toting tooth fairy. St. Nick filled the stockings with huge naval oranges, popcorn balls and unshelled nuts. All stuffed inside a stocking rimmed with candy canes. A grand tradition that led to many memorable mornings.

Establishment of a tradition within the family is a good thing. It does not matter if stockings or wooden shoes are involved or if its trinkets, candy or whatever that is found inside. A child enjoys anticipation and the surprise of discovery. When you are an adult never forget to nourish the spirit of children.

To me this traditional November holiday is embodied by family, turkey and football. In the 1950’s I remember my mother started roasting the bird early in the morning. I think in those days it was recommended to cook the daylights out of all meat. Food preparation began just after sunrise. By mid-morning our home had the delectable smell of turkey, giblets and pumpkin pies wafting in the air. I could barely stand the wait. Soon the start of the annual Packer/Lion football game grabbed my attention. It was on the radio and then on TV beginning around age 10 or 11. When listening on the radio I’d toss a football with my brothers. Or, we’d get a short pickup game going in the alley. (Telephone pole to telephone pole field.)

We’d have our grandfathers, two uncles/aunts and three cousins for a mid-afternoon dinner. (Both my grandmothers had died by the time I was two years old.) The food was bountiful and great tasting. Dry meat never bothered me; I preferred dark meat. Plus, there were boat loads of gravy to drench the dressing, mashed potatoes and turkey if needed. Later there was pumpkin pie. My memory is not all that great but I will hazard a guess that other food items made it to the table. Like salad, cranberry sauce, hot rolls, green beans, yams or glazed carrots. (For you of course the rule is to eat your vegetables and try everything!)

Later in life I did get around to sampling different food offerings. They are quite good in their own right but in the end nothing beats turkey, stuffing, potatoes and gravy. My worse Thanksgivings also happened later in life. Nothing to do with the food or football. (Pretty hard not to still suffer from indigestion from that dreaded 1962 game.) A bad Thanksgiving was always the absence of family. In my first year of law school. I did not know anyone well enough to snare an invite to dinner. I remember going out to eat a meal at a Formica table. In subsequent years I went to friends’ homes for Thanksgiving and in Vietnam there was dinner with pals. But, even with companionship I missed family. Thereafter, for years, I cooked the turkey, dressing, gravy and mashed potatoes and loved every minute of the anticipation of seeing family.

So, for those already on board as grandchildren, tomorrow will be a gathering of family with food and or favorite activities as surround sound. There is lots to be thankful for now and for each of you I wish a life long pursuit of happiness. Learn to cook a turkey dinner. Clean as you go. It’s more of a logistics operation than fine dining. A higher edge on a pan roasts the turkey faster. Take time with the gravy. Use an old fashioned hand masher. Nod approvingly at yams, salads and green beans if they make an appearance at your otherwise perfect Thanksgiving dinner.

       April 2020

This is the root of all good in your lives. There may come a day when you think Papa is crazy to write this sentiment. Like during the teen years when brains get overwhelmed by hormones and a pressing need for individualism. Keep your powder dry. Easier said than done but something to keep in mind. Growing up can be a bit frantic both for kids and parents. It’s nature’s way. It’s usually a good journey. At times easier for some than it is for others. Schoolmates and peers may find their passage to be bumpier. It’ll be important to understand rough times experienced by others. Be empathetic of course. All teens experience washboard roads. It’s a passage that will bind many together. However, be careful of those few who may become overwhelmed by their individual problems. You do not need to be caught in the chaos of their wake. If you see danger signs in others (Drugs, bullying, declining school performance, rage) separate and stand back. Becoming involved in the turmoil of others is usually beyond your ability to help. Tell your parents. They can decide on if or how to help.

If you find yourself in your own struggle of concern, make a bee line to your family. Parents, grand- parents, aunts/uncles. (Even siblings!) Don’t hesitate out of fear or shame. The family will always be there for you. That is your anchor. Best to stay on course via your own navigation but if a course correction is needed allow it to happen. With family support, get after the concept of good that needs to be pursued. It’s hard to go wrong if one always strives towards the good. And, you are the person who defines your good. (No need to be overly restrictive.)

There is no right way to be either a parent or a child. Perfection is not the goal. The family unit is your support system. A bit like college when you transition to adulthood. You’ll be licking your chops to raise a ruckus once in a while but the family/college will be nearby; safety/training wheels to fall back on during rough times. Count yourself lucky. Others don’t enjoy all the love and support given by family. You’ll understand that a bit better as you engage with peers who differ from your current social/economic situation. Many are not as fortunate as you. That does not make you better than anyone else. Just luckier than some. Make the most of whatever family gives you towards a start in life.