The Cousin Who Wasn't

BONNIE L.M. McCOY

BONNIE LEE MAY McCOY (Age 55)

Of Mt. Airy, MD, died peacefully at home on December 27, 2012 following a 14-month battle with cancer. She was predeceased by her parents, Rudolf P. May and Margaret Abbott May, her brother, Robin O Clay, and her aunt, Wahneta Rodehaver.

Ms. McCoy was raised in Montgomery County, MD.  She grew up at The Manor Country Club in Rockville, MD, where she competed from a young age in both swimming and golf.  She graduated from Magruder High School in 1975, and cherished the lasting friendships she made there. During her 35 years as a Senior  Executive Assistant, she held positions within the GSA, the DOD (Naval Warfare and Office of the SecDef for C3I); Northrop-Grumman; Hughes; Burdeshaw & Associates; Marconi NA; and BAE Systems Inc. At the pinnacle of her profession, she had supported five defense industry CEOs; Flag and General Officers (both active and retired) across the US armed forces; and many foreign and domestic defense executives. Highly regarded and respected, she served as a role model to others on her career path.

She is survived by her dearest friend, Sandra Dugan; the Henderson Family who "adopted" and made her their own; her former husband and friend Bob McCoy; and her beloved "Newfies", Sugarbear and Juno. Commemorative arrangements are pending for early 2013. In memory, Bonnie requested donations, in her name, to either the Colonial Newfoundland Club (c/o Treasurer CNC, 264 Knoxville Rd, Knoxville, MD 21758), or Gentle Ben's Giant Breed Rescue (Gentle Ben's, P.O. Box 533, Zelienople, PA 16063) to support their outstanding rescue efforts for the gentle giant dog breeds she loved.

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Once upon a time I had a cousin.  She was born the same year my parents got married, 1957.

Families are complicated and growing up, I didn't know the back stories and family history that took place long before I arrived on the scene.  There are black and white photographs of us playing together when I was two or three.

What I remember is that we visited infrequently, and it was always usually my family and grandparents going to my uncle's house.  If my uncle came to visit us or my grandparents, he was usually on his own.   As she got older, my cousin rarely seemed to be around when we were visiting; the golf, the swimming and the country club lifestyle mentioned in her obituary took precedence over family.  Bonnie's mother, my uncle's second wife, never seemed to be comfortable around us,  a working class family where three out of the four adults visiting spoke with accents.   

We would occasionally go with them to the country club they belonged to, swimming in the pool or to 4th of July fireworks displays.  My cousin would pop by to say 'hello' but didn't really spend much time interacting us or with her grandparents.  I don't know if my grandparents felt slighted, I know that something always felt odd.  I know my mother felt it, because she and my father would talk about it in the car after we dropped my grandparents off at their house.

When I was thirteen, my uncle was in Germany on a business trip and visiting family.  He became ill, was hospitalized, died and was buried in Bruchkobel.  Memories of that have faded over the last forty years, but I do remember my father taking my grandmother to the Passport Agency in downtown Washington, DC  to get an emergency passport renewal so that she could travel to Germany.  I remember hearing that Grandma arrived in Germany before my uncle's wife and my cousin, and before my uncle died.  And I remember that at some point several years after his, his widow wanted his ashes moved from the beautiful little cemetery in Germany to Arlington National Cemetery.  Which left most of us perplexed, particularly the relatives in Germany which was where my uncle was born.  Leave him at peace.

The last time I saw this cousin was some time in 1973 at a memorial service for her father.  I remember that relations between my parents, grandparents and my aunt seemed distant and strained at that service.

In 1974, we moved to Illinois and lived there until 1981.  My parents never talked about my cousin or her mother, at least while I was within eavesdropping distance, and being a self-absorbed adolescent, it just didn't matter to me.

My father's family and my mother's family live in neighboring towns outside of Frankfurt, so usually we would stay with my paternal grandparents, and go to make the rounds of visiting with  my mother's family.

Every single time we visited my mother's cousins, the question would come up, what do you know of Bonnie?  Is she in touch with your grandparents?  Is she in contact with your family?  With the answers being, not a thing, no and no each time.  I remember feeling irritated with the relatives, thinking they should be more interested in the person in front of them rather than the mystery cousin.

Now, it's difficult when one of your parents doesn't like or get along with the other half of your family, particularly when you are young and easily influenced.  I understand that.  But at some point, as an adult, if it were me, curiosity would win that conflict.

But I always wanted to find her, to find out how her life turned out, what she knew or thought about the other half of her family, so finding out that she died eight days before my mother passed away is sad because all the questions will be forever unanswered.

With the advent of the Bing, Google and Facebook, I would try to search her name, but never came up with any good leads, and life gets busy.  Four or five years ago, I went with my mother to her high school reunion. My mother was about seven years younger than her brother, but they both attended the same high school in Washington, DC, McKinley Tech. At that reunion we heard from someone who knew both my mother and my uncle that Bonnie's mother had passed away several years prior, but no one knew anything about Bonnie or where she might be living.

I'm sorry I wasn't more tenacious about finding her; I wish she had been more inquisitive as well.  I hope she is at peace. 

We have a new family member, a yellow-bellied slider turtle adopted through the Mid-Atlantic Turtle and Tortoise Society.  Believe it or not, reptiles are abandoned by their owners, it's not just cats and dogs (and guinea pigs).  The lady who fostered Charlie for a week after picking him up from Baltimore where he'd lived for a year after being rescued told me of a turtle she had just taken to a new home whose aquarium had been put out in the trash with the turtle still in it.  Charlie and his new aquarium resides in Micah's room, and Micah is thrilled.

Getting the aquarium, getting it set up, getting the pump assembled getting the very large, very heavy coffee table out of the garage and upsairs, and all the other stuff was a series of misadventures.  The pump had missing tubing and had to be returned.  Steve actually read the back of the label of the aquarium and found it was not to be filled with water. Huh?  I made mention of the fact that the tank was going to be used for an aquatic turtle when I was buying the supplies at Petsmart - and the salesperson working with me has turtles as pets.  Turtles need UVA and UVB lights to keep their shells strong, and the lights remain on for twelve hours per day.  The day I had arranged to drive to Plymouth Meeting, Pennsylvania to pick him up, it snowed all morning making the Turnpike 80 miles of slushy torture.  I didn't want to open the box with Charlie until I picked up Micah, so we got him home, opened the box and what was described as a six-inch turtle was was more like nine or ten inches, depending on how the shell is measured.  And we only had a few minutes to put him in his tank and keep on moving to Micah's appointment with Dr. Choe.

So the larger than anticipated turtle needed a bigger basking shelf - another trip to Petsmart, and the lady from MATTS said he would have some of his familiar tank plants with him.  Didn't happen.  Cha-ching, cha-ching, cha-ching.  I hope the bulk of the upfront costs are finished.

Meanwhile on Monday I bought some guppies for Charlie.  Fast food, food that is highly motivated to be fast, they swim as if their lives depend on it.  When the five went into Charlie's tank, he shot off his basking shelf and got himself one, and then another.   And I thought one more went into his stomach, but it was doing a better job hiding than the other two who have banded together for survival.  After I put in the feeding stone for the surviving guppies, Charlie decided to hover over it waiting for them. . . .

Micah loves him, he doesn't shed and he's quiet.

ChongQing 2004 Reunion

Thea and Jennifer

It's been almost nine years since a small band of  adoptive parents boarded planes that took them to San Francisco where they boarded an Air China flight to Beijing.  Some of the group knew others from the travel workshop given by the adoption agency, but since everyone was scattered throughout the jumbo jet,  once everyone made it off the plane and into passport control at the airport, the group began to form for the first time.  At baggage claim, we met our guides and the adventure of getting to know one another began.

We went on a jetlag-fueled blitzkrieg tour of Beijing: Tiananmen Square, the Forbidden City, lunch at a Friendship Store a visit to the Great Wall at Baodaling and as darkness fell, a trip back to the Beijing airport and a flight to ChongQing.

And on what was Labor Day back in the States, we gathered in the dining room of the Holiday Inn to fill out paperwork with our guides.

What made us a group came later that afternoon.  We boarded a large tour bus and went to an office building on the other side of ChongQing.  Rather nondescript, an elevator capable of holding at most four or five people and a ride up to the office where we met our kids. Thirteen babies from three different social welfare institutions, they were the glue that made us a group.

Trips to the grocery store to buy formula and baby food, pacing the hallways, hanging out in the playroom at the hotel, sight-seeing trips to the ChongQing Zoo, sharing stacking cups, toys, Tylenol for infants, the plane to GuangZhou, shopping and bargaining made us a very large, slightly strange family.  Two weeks together until we boarded a plane that took us to Shanghai and from there to San Francisco, and at SFO, we scattered - to New Jersey, Pennsylvania, New York, Ohio, Minnesota, Colorado.

We are fortunate to be in New Jersey, which puts us in an area were a large number of our travel group live, and we have been doubly fortunate that we've stayed in touch - and that we get together every year.  The group changes a bit every year - especially since the kids are getting older and have activities and social lives of their own.  But the gathering happens - and the shared experiences of having people ask if our children are 'really' siblings (with 'really' being a synonym for 'biological'), what about their 'real' mothers, how much did you pay for them. All the annoying questions that you can share the answers that you would have liked to have given if we did not feel compelled to be the polite ambassadors for international adoptions.  And a thousand other topics, shared memories and whatnot.  Yesterday was that day, and it was wonderful - and I say this even after having to work in the morning and being on call for the weekend.

Meanwhile, our kids have grown, siblings have been added to the families and even though they don't see each other, they all seem to know that their shared history is important - and most of them have iPods, Nintendos, Wiis; the universal language of the electronic childhood becomes their common thread just as the shared experience of the trip to China binds the adults - and hanging out with other kids is more entertaining than hanging out with a bunch of parents.  The kids do pop over to the parents table every now and then, to check in, to eat and for that they will receive the pat on the head, the "look at how much you've grown" from the friends of their parents, so far they are not rolling their eyes at this, but that day may come.

Jennifer, Micah, Thea and Juliana

Next year will be the 10th anniversary of that trip that made us a group, and we've started talking about how to celebrate, could we get those members who don't live as close to come?, where to have it?  Our kids will be 10 to 11 or so, with younger and older siblings.  Suggestions welcome.

China 2004 kids, plus siblings, plus high school exchange students

Persuasion

 Micah and Gracie, January 17, 2013

Micah's first grade class is learning how to write a persuasive letter:  This is what we received via the US mail from him; we are expected to respond in kind, mailing the letter to him at school.


02/05/2013

Dear Mom and Dad,

I love both of you.  You are both the generous Mom and Dad I ever had in my life.  I would like a dog or a trddlr (turtle) please.  Having a dog or a trddlr is important to me because wen I get home I don't  get any atation (attention).  Once time we went on a family walke.  I saw one of our nabrze (neighbors) was walkeing there dog.  I got jaulous (jealous).  I will do chorz (chores) for you and maybe you can pay me.  I will help you pay for the dog.

For example one time I was riding in Bill's and Donna's car and I was in the back with Grase (Gracie).  I dasided (decided) I would persuasive both of you.  Another ressin (reason) is one time I was at Tesh's house and I was rubbing her dog's toume (tummy), it was fun.

Love, Micah

Lydia M. Grebe, CEO

Mom, Inc.

Plainsboro, New Jersey

Saturday, February 16, 2013

Micah Albin

c/o Mrs. M. Collins, Room #15

Wicoff School

Plainsboro, NJ 08536

Dear Micah:

Thank you for your lovely letter.  Your handwriting was an example of your neatest work, clearly your request for a dog or a turtle is very important to you.

Unfortunately, we here at Mom, Inc. must respectfully decline your request for a dog.  For the purposes of convincing you of my point, let me provide you with a number of facts influencing the decision to say "NO!" to a new, canine member of our family:

1.) We have two guinea pigs, Darwin and Galileo.  Remember them?  I don't think so since both you and your sister, who both found these messy little creatures so enchanting two years ago, barely give them the time of day now.  If your father did not spend the time needed to care for them and clean their cage, I would have given them to the nice Ecuadorian home health aide who took care of Oma who said they were a delicacy in her country.  And I probably would have also included a couple of skewers and a complimentary bottle of barbecue sauce to seal the deal.

2.)  A dog is an enormous responsibility, both financial and time-wise.  Your $2.00 per week allowance will not adequately cover the financial responsibilities of dog ownership, which included food, chew toys, veterinarian costs, pet sitters and other incidentals.  I know you are expecting great things from the $0.50 weekly cost-of-living increase you will receive on March 2 when you turn seven, but it still will not come close to the hundreds of dollars needed to take good care of a dog.  And while your intentions of promising to do chores to help earn money are well-intended, your track record for doing the same chore, week after week, still needs some additional practice.

Additionally, a dog is a large commitment of time, which is in short supply around our house.  How would you feel about being sent out into the backyard to scoop up dog poop on a weekly basis?  Would you be able to remember to put out fresh water morning and evening for the dog?  Doubtful.  You don't drink enough fluids yourself.  Would you vacuum every other day to keep dog hair from piling up on the floors?  Would you be able to train to the dog to stay off of the furniture?  Train the dog to not pee or poop on the rugs and floors?  And what would you do if the dog you want so badly chewed up your enormous collection of stuffed animals and other toys?  What would this dog do all day while we are at work and you are at school?  It really is not fair to the dog to be cooped up in the house all day with no attention.  Dogs are social animals and when they become bored and lonely, they can be destructive.

When we do get home from work, I am not going to be stuck walking the dog after you have become bored with caring for it or would rather play Wii or it is too cold or wet or rainy to take the dog on a walk.  Or if you must complete your homework assignments or after you start participating in other extra-curricular activities, I am not going to be the safety net.  If I am going to use up the remaining cartilage in my knees, I am going to use it seeing Venice, Stockholm, Prague, Budapest or Hong Kong and not walking around our neighborhood at the end of leash, picking up dog poop in a plastic bag so that we do not run afoul of the neighborhood association.

3.) I would also like to refute your argument that your father and I pay no attention to you, and would like to put forth a claim that you chose to spend time on many activities other than lavishing love, affection and attention upon your parents and sister.  We spend a good deal of time arranging play dates with your friends, chauffeuring you to various activities such as soccer, ice skating, Cub Scouts, etc. and time hanging out with you.  You, on the other hand, are often more engaged in playing with your friends at EDP and ignore the parent who has come to pick you up and seem annoyed that we have arrived.  Mom, Inc. is considering implementing a new plan of periodic electronics-free weekends.  Stay tuned for news on this.

4.) A few stylistic comments on your letter:  Don't lay the praise on so thick.  We're your Mom and Dad, we are neither the BEST mom and dad in the world, nor the WORST.  There are lots and lots and lots of excellent mothers and fathers in this world.  Lots.  I love you to pieces and your smile and humor light up my world on a daily basis, but just about every Mommy thinks that her kids are the best in the world and we all cannot be right.

5.) Another minor comment on the form of address on your letter's envelope:  how nice of you to address it to Daddy and Grandma or Aunt Ginny.  You know my name and you know it is NOT Mrs. Albin.  Attention to minor details like this can be almost as persuasive as the contents of the letter itself.  It is very important not to irritate your audience before she even opens the envelope.

Again, you are one of the lights of my life and I love you very, very much, but as much as I love you, your request for a dog is declined (which translates to "Mommy says 'No way!'" in your world.)

I am, however, open to the concept of a turtle.  Submit your proposal showing me that you understand what a turtle needs in terms of a habitat and food to the address listed above, my people will call your people and we'll do lunch to hash out the details.  Maybe it could even happen in time for your birthday, may be not considering that we will need to see how long it takes the Mid-Atlantic Turtle and Tortoise Society review our application and how long it takes the State of New Jersey to issue a permit to own a turtle.  Neither of these things are under my control.  Start saving your allowance for that 55 gallon tank, though.  To paraphrase Louis Pasteur, "Chance favors the prepared (mind)."

Hugs, kisses and love you bunches,

Mommy

Eulogy for My Mother

Margaret May Grebe

Born April 2, 1929 in Baltimore, Maryland

Lived in Washington, DC; Hyattsville, Maryland; Bolingbrook, Illinois;

Waldorf and La Plata, Maryland

Died January 4, 2013 in Plainsboro, New Jersey

Several years ago, when my mother was first diagnosed with breast cancer she specifically said that she did not want me to blog or post on Facebook anything about her illness.  In April 2012 she learned that the disease had metastasized to her lungs and liver, and in November, we learned that it had further spread to her brain.  Four days into 2013, she lost the fight, peacefully, gracefully and on her own terms.

I will be forever thankful to the family and friends who helped and supported her from the time she was first diagnosed in 2009, to her New Jersey oncologist and radiation oncologist for the thoughtful care provided her in the late stages of her fight, and to Princeton Hospice who made the last week of her life comfortable.

So now I am trying to learn how to live without having Mom around.  I still want to pick up the phone or go to her room when something happens and I need someone to listen to me ramble, rant and rave. One of her best skills was listening while not trying to 'fix' everything that was being ranted about.  She knew when it was just steam that needed to be release, and that is a gift.

There are recipes that I wanted her to teach me, Rouladen, Bohnesalat, red cabbage, cucumber salad - the vinegar-based one and the sour cream-based cream one and more, but I will try on my own to figure it out or head to Florida where Mom's cousin, Mina lives.  Micah loves Oma's scrambled eggs, which use the same ingredients that I use, but somehow the 'Oma touch' elevated them to a new culinary level.  Thea's favorite is Oma's stuffed peppers, though she aggravates Oma as I once did by not eating the pepper shell - and my mother was much more indulgent of this in a grandchild.  I will miss going to the German Deli in Virginia with her.

Mom's chocolate chip cookies simply go down as legendary, and she said that she did nothing other than put a sprinkle of water over the dough.

I am also remembering all the things she has taught me.  First and foremost, how to be a good friend.  Mom had a gift for keeping in touch with people, she wrote notes, cards, sent off articles and other things that she thought the recipient would enjoy.  I received more mail in one year from Mom than most of my friends got in four years of college.  She would do anything for her friends and family and her door was always open.  And she became friends with a number of our friends.  I was still bringing friends home, even while I was in nursing school.

Mom taught me that it is important to be present and involved in your children's lives by volunteering to be a room mother, helping with the Girl Scouts.

And she was always open to new things.  She was not afraid to try line-dancing, and continue trying, and continue to try, because she enjoyed doing it.  (I on the other hand accepted my total lack of rhythm and coordination from an early age.) She tried out various crafts, with varying degrees of success, and I think part of it was more to enjoy the company of her friends than the finished product.

I am thankful to all those who were able to take time on a cold, grey day to attend Mom's service.  I thought because of the almost two weeks time that had elapsed between the time she died to the first available date for burial at the Maryland Veterans Cemetery that my feelings would not be as raw.  And then my nine-year old daughter who has only been playing the viola for three months played Beethoven's Ode to Joy at the beginning of the service, and then the neighbor who lived across the street from Mom in Waldorf told how things that Mom just did because that was just Mom were so very meaningful to her even now, and I was just sunk.  The advantage of being in the front row was that I was close to a box of tissues.

And to all those who have sent cards with kind words and a memory of Mom to share with us, thank you as well.

I am thankful to my brother, who made all the arrangements for the viewing, funeral and luncheon. 

I will love her and miss her forever, I know that wherever she has gone, cancer did not go with her.  Most of all, thank you, Margaret Grebe, for being my mother.  I wish I had had the composure to say this on Thursday.

Post-Hurricane Recovery

 OK, so I am not a meteorological genius (referencing my previous post.)

Our power went out at 8:23 pm Monday night, so it lasted 23 minutes longer than my prediction of darkness descending at 8 pm.  It spent  ten minutes or so flickering and toying with us before the final outage.   It had been raining all day on Monday, but it wasn't until after dark that the wind really started raging.  Fortunately I had finished both squares of my Saturday Sampler homework at 8:00 pm.

Monday night wasn't much for sleeping, at least for me. Too much noise.  The trains running on the Northeast Corridor tracks behind our house had stopped, but the wind sounded like a continuous train running through the backyard.

Tuesday was spent occupying the kids so they did not run down the batteries on their Nintendos and iPods since we were told it could possibly be a week without power.

School was cancelled for Wednesday, and Princeton University also decided to close for a third day.  (And the watch for signs that Hell was going to freeze over began.)

Dinner was leftovers heated on the stove.  Pizza, believe it or not, can be reheated without an oven by inverting a vegetable steamer over boiling water, and it helps that the pizza was a little stale.  Micah ate four pieces of it.  This Little House on Krebs Road approach to cooking was getting a bit old, though.

Wednesday morning I got up and went to work, where there was power, so I had every device I own that has a battery - minus a power strip, which would have come in handy.  It's Hallowe'en and I originally wanted to be home for trick-or-treating so I asked for a half-day, and this was an act of genius, because right as I was finishing my last patients of the morning. . . .

. . . the power went o-u-t at work.  Seriously.  Sense of irony and sense of humor were wearing fairly thin.

Lovely, just bleeping lovely because with no power, the server for the EHR system goes down so I can't even write my chart notes from home.  Though I was a bit of genius for requesting that afternoon off (for the now cancelled Hallowe'en); no patients needing rescheduling for me.

Route 1 had most of the traffic lights out still, long lines at the gas stations that were open.  The Dunkin' Donuts was not open. (Hell must really be ready to freeze over.)

West Windsor-Plainsboro schools were out the entire week.  By Sunday night eight out of ten schools had power, but  the district offices had no power or phones, and one upper elementary school and one middle school were still without electricity so the district arranged accommodation for those schools at two large churches.

Soccer on Saturday went on as usual, and Sunday's GoalFest/GhoulFest which had been rescheduled also took place.  Neither kid came home with a trophy this year, which was probably a good learning experience for them.  They had great teams, but there weren't enough 4th and 5th graders for individual teams, so the league made a Girls 4-6 level for GoalFest.  Which meant my delicate little 4th grader had to go up against 6th grade Amazons riding a wave of premenstrual fury.  It was just not right that nine-year olds had to go up against adolescents with attitude wearing orange tutus (those damn tutus hid quite a bit of hip checking.).

Steve is getting a generator as his Hanukkah/Christmas present, and I am going to by a few dozen "D" cell batteries.   I will be better than prepared for the next one.

Spring Cleaning

. . . for Micah's ears.  Yesterday we made another trip up the Turnpike to Englewood to see Dr. Choe.  I must have had a complete mental lapse when I called for the appointment because I took an 8:00 am slot, which is just murder from the get-go:  to get Micah up, fed and dressed on a school day in time to catch the school bus at 8:25 am is a minor feat.  To have him in the same state 90 minutes earlier would require prayer, a lot of talking in a loud voice, some gratuitous tickling and patience in quantities greater than I have at that hour of the morning.

Thankfully the Turnpike cooperated.  The GPS set our arrival at 7:58 am, and we were putting in the parking lot right at that time, and there was parking spots on the open, sunny first level so we didn't need to park in the dark, creepy bowels of the building level.  The appointment was 15 minutes: five minutes of chit-chat, five minutes per ear of Dr. Choe picking out the waxy debris that accumulates in the canals and we were back out at the reception area where Micah could schmooze with the staff.  He is especially proud that he can now see over the reception desk on his own.

Then we made the trip back home, with a small reward trip to Target thrown in, and he signed in at school, got a late pass and trotted off to Mrs. Miller's room by 10:00 am.

Later that day I had to go back to Wicoff to be the helping mom at the Brownie meeting, which was mostly taking pictures and bringing Capri Sun juice pouches since a troop of Juniors came to share their wisdom regarding camping, building fires and how to dress for a camping trip.  The Juniors brought the snack, which was various pretzels and snack cereal so that the Brownies could build a miniature camp fire on their plates and then eat it.  The mother-daughter camping trip is coming up the first weekend in June.  By the mercy of whatever higher power, it will be at the main house of the campground, so we'll have beds and indoor plumbing.  Thea is nervous about the camping trip for whatever reason.  At the meeting yesterday the girls had to put down who they would like to bunk with, putting down three names and with the guarantee that they will room with at least one; I was shocked to see how many put Thea's name down (which is sweet, but they have no idea that she sometimes snores like a water buffalo and talks in her sleep.)

After the Brownies award ceremony (i.e. more patches to sew on), we went to pick up Micah from EDP and then went right back to Wicoff for the End-of-the-Year Celebration.  Multiple bouncy houses and slides, a balloon person, DJ, pizza and ice cream truck.  (Thankfully no evil pony ride lady from the Fall celebration.)  Thea was allowed to run around with her friends, Micah hung out with his friends Charlie and Jeff, running, jumping and balloon sword fighting (after we stood in line for 45 minutes for the balloon lady).

We left as it was getting dark and much cooler and went to KFC for dinner.  Micah fell asleep in the car but revived once he remembered that he had a new Bey Blade waiting for him from the morning trip to Target, and I had picked one out for Thea, so they spent awhile having battles and then watching Phineas & Ferb and Penguins of Madagascar before crashing for the night.

I am in charge. . . .

. . . channeling a very Alexander Haig-like vibe.  In the Kingdom of Me for the next four days of my reign:

1. Guinea pigs will not have night lights. 

2.  The bed will be made EVERY day.

3.  Smart Rinse after tooth-brushing will be optional.

As I think of additional edicts, I will post them.  Husband is away, so the illusion of democracy is out the window.  Absolute dictatorship until Wednesday night.

4.  I can lock all the locks on the front door and put the chain on, and lock the door from the garage to the house before going upstairs for the night.

5.  I can have my car's rightful place in the driveway (i.e. where I parked the entire first year we lived in this house until someone thought he had a better idea; I don't give a flaming fart about a better idea, I just want the left spot in the driveway.)

6.   I can drive the kids to school every day rather than have them take the bus (and sit in the bus waiting for the buses to unload two at a time.)

Beach Babies

Random photos of a vacation in progress. . . . .

Boys at the Beach

I wish I had pictures or video of tonight, but it actually was sort of nice just to be in the moment.  Micah and I were the advance troops heading to the beach house to get set up for everyone.  Thanks to horrible traffic, we made it to the real estate office at 4:50 pm (it closes at 5 pm) to pick up the keys.

We just had gotten the car unloaded when Shannon and Willi came over.  Willi is about three months older and several inches taller than Micah, but four years old is four year old, and boys are boys.  They were in competition over toys, racing through the house, playing outside and actually helped me make up a couple of the beds - and then they rolled and bounced all over it.  Fortunately the boys seemed to enjoy each others company and I actually got to enjoy being around another grown-up after four or more hours of "Are we there yet?" from my traveling companion.  (Note to self:  Next time put the Thule on the CRV, it holds up to 35 lbs - I think he'd still fit.....)  The balloons they give to children when leaving Grotto's were a nice incentive for Micah (they only give them to kids who eat well....another fabulous moment of emotional blackmail.)

After dinner, we went to the boardwalk for frozen custard.  Thanks to parking karma and a residential parking permit, we got a spot one block from Kohr's.

After we were back from the boardwalk, Micah and I went to the grocery store, with every other vacationer trying to get a jump on laying in supplies for their week at the beach.  I think we've got most of the basics covered - at least we won't starve for the next couple of days.

Steve just called, the rear guard is arriving in the next few seconds.  Yeah!  Family week at the beach starts now.  Boy passed out on the sofa, he was holding out to see his Daddy, Thea and Oma, but sleep finally won.

The humidity here is making wonder how the BAHA will do.  I remember the hearing aid dehumidifier, for a change.

Photos - Weekend in Pictures

Micah, Bill, Me, Jay, Mom, Thea

The Wedding Party

Bailah

Micah enjoying the wedding cake made by his cousin, Lynn

Thea

Yes, she's wearing a dress.  Just don't tell her it's a dress.

She thinks because she has shorts underneath, it's not a dress

The Treasure Hunt

or how the adults finished eating in peace

Mom, can I walk Chelsea?

The refrain for the weekend,
and then he walked her and dropped the leash.

I never knew that 50 year old cellulite could move
fast enough to catch her.

Happy Birthday, Aunt Mary

 This is my Aunt Mary.  I cannot remember any part of my life when I have not an Aunt Mary.  I have one American aunt, one German aunt - mine is not a big family, so by proximity alone she wins the aunt sweepstakes.  She joined the family by marriage, and our family was better because of her. She came to concerts, first communion, family dinners and barbecues.  She died in December 2009 and I have been meaning to write something about her for months.

Her home was where we always went for Christmas dinner.  When I was young, she had a silver foil Christmas tree that had a light that sat on the floor and switched from red to yellow to green to blue.  It was very, very cool.  She had a wall removed between her living room and a third bedroom to accommodate an expandable table and an enlarging family, long before remakes and remodels came to cable TV.

Aunt Mary gave me my very first magazine subscription for Christmas in 1971, and in late December of that year, the January 1972 issue arrived with my name on the wrapper.  In February 1972 the cover article was on Maryland.  In May 1974, all of the issues I had received went in a box that went to our new home in Illinois, and in 1981, all of those issue and more went back in boxes to move back to Maryland.

Aunt Mary got us interested in candle-making when I was in sixth grade or so, though I don't remember what the spark that started this project.  She invited my mother, brother and me to her home and we melted blocks of wax, added colors, poured it into milk cartons with or without crushed ice and made candles.  And when a pot of melted wax spilled down my corduroy pants, she barely batted an eye (I didn't like those pants anyway.)  My teacher, Sunday School teacher and choir director (junior choir was not terribly interested in actual singing ability) received candles that Christmas.  After that, I remember going to the craft store at Prince George's Plaza with my best friend and using a hot plate in our basement to make more candles using a hot plate.  No crayon in either of our houses was safe because it was cheaper than buying blocks of colored wax to add color to our candles.

Aunt Mary took me to the theater for several birthdays when I was in junior high.  The last play we went to we picked because of the name:  Don't Bother Me, I Can't Cope at Ford's Theater.  Theater was cultural, the location was educational, so it was totally something that Aunt Mary truly believed in.  This was long before electronic media with theater reviews at our fingertip, there may have been a review in the Washington Post  or the Star, but we missed it.  The title just sounded like it should be entertaining.

Despite the catchy title, as plays or musicals go, it was a little dull even though it seems a bit like a church revival meeting.  And in DC, only five to six years after the riots hat followed Martin Luther King, Jr.'s assassination, Aunt Mary and I were the only to Caucasians in the audience, and if I am garden-variety Caucasian, Aunt Mary was practically bio-luminescent with her pale skin and salt-and-pepper hair. 

When I graduated from high school in Illinois in 1978, Aunt Mary was there.  She flew in less than two weeks after the birth of her second grandchild.  She was interested in visiting the Bahai'i Temple in Evanston, and she was willing to trust her life to a 17 year old (me) who had just gotten her driver's license a mere ten days before graduation to drive her from Bolingbrook, up Interstate 55, onto Lake Shore Drive, and up to Evanston.  The pursuit of a new cultural and educational experience was worth the risk of spending time in a car who had spent less than 15 minutes total driving on the interstate and who didn't really like driving on Lake Shore Drive as a passenger much less being behind the wheel.

On the morning after my high school graduation, when I came creeping home at around 6 am, the car driving me home passing my father's Volkswagen Beetle cruising down Galahad Road in the opposite direction and me diving down for cover.  (My mother had locked my bedroom door to cover for me with Dad.)  My mother trusted me and assumed that the adolescent who had given her absolutely no cause for worry was just spending time with friends.

While my mother was taking my brother to school, I sat at the kitchen table with Aunt Mary and briefed her as to where we'd gone after the graduation party. My three friends and I had gotten invited to one of the much cooler graduate's graduation night party, someone had a car and the bright idea of driving 50 miles or so into Chicago to the lakefront.  We wound up near Adler Planetarium, walking around when a boat came close by on Monroe Harbor, we were whooping and hollering for them to congratulate us.  The boat motored over to closer to the group, and the three or so people on board offered a ride, which my friend Barb and two of the guys accepted.  The boat took off across the harbor and then the engine just. . . .died out, putt, putt, putt nothing.  The six or seven of us left behind were a little concerned, and since the boat was just bobbing out there with our imaginations running wild on land, we flagged down a Chicago police car.  Who then radioed the Harbor Patrol.  Who then contacted the Coast Guard.  And in the pre-dawn hours of June 29, the boat was towed back and our friends returned to us.  We all nodded vigorously when the police officer asked if we were over eighteen, and luck stayed with us because he did not ask for identification to prove it.  We stopped at the White Castle for sliders to celebrate our relief.

I think I finally told my mother that story when I was in my thirties.  Aunt Mary kept my secret for more than 15 years. I still remember her listening to me tell of the adventure, which was much funnier in the re-telling than it was in the actual experience.  The look on her face was priceless.

Aunt Mary loved learning, she had traveled to Greece, and when I was in college she was more interested in the Classical Civilization courses I took than I was, and the books I had to buy for that class probably got more use in her hands than mine.  I still get a nervous twitch thinking about whether Middle Minoan I comes before or after Middle Helladic II.

I don't remember when Aunt Mary began quilting, but two of her quilts are in my home.  The first was a complete surprise for my BSN graduation in December 1997; the second was a wall-hanging that was a wedding present.  She was meticulous, a quiet perfectionist and her attention to detail came out in the precision of her cutting and sewing. I am glad that I asked her to sign that quilt so I could embroider her name and have both one of her quilts and an exemplar of her perfect penmanship.

She loved hearing about trips I took for work, and was particularly interested in our adoption trips to China.  She loved my kids, and Micah's journey to language and hearing fascinated her.

There is much more to my Aunt Mary memory quilt than these, but  these are the ones that have stuck with me the longest.  June 25th is her birthday, and since that was the day she came in to the world and her life started its trajectory that would intersect with mine, this is the day I prefer to remember.  Happy Birthday, Aunt Mary.  I hope that you're having travel adventures, eating whatever you like and doing the occasional crossword puzzle to stay sharp.

Imagination Movers

 

 Sunday at Hershey Park 

I'm trying to get a better picture, but in it's tiny form what you're seeing is Micah in the arms of Mover Rich, who was his favorite (as of yesterday, that is), Thea is between Mover Dave and Nadia.  We went to Hershey Park for the Imagination Movers concert, arriving in time to get seats up at the top of the amphitheatre.

 After the show we went on a ride on the cable cars, which Thea loved after overcoming her fear.  Thea, Micah and I went on a second trip across the park; Steve passed since he wasn't to thrilled with the first trip.

While we were up in the air, Steve met up with Nadia and Emad, the Skyview cable cars are near the access to the amphitheater.  It was a lucky coincidence for us - Thea and I made yet another trip on the Skyview with Nadia.  Meanwhile the guys took Micah off for a train ride.

Micah and Thea went off on yet another ride on the Skyview (when Thea overcomes a fear, she overcomes it but good) with Emad and Nadia and I went on the Comet.  My first roller coaster ride in at least ten years or more.  Probably more.  I think I left a kidney on the tracks after the first drop, a lobe or two of my lungs on the first curve all the while giving my vocal cords got a work out.  And it will take ten or more years and a good dose of senility to get back on another coaster.

Nadia's sister Norah was at the second concert with her friends so we went back to the amphitheater to hang out for the photo-op, which is where the picture came from.  Emad and Nadia and the kids were the first in line.  While I was taking Thea to the restroom, the concert-goers returned, and Micah was in the thick of a girl posse, which means that he was practically unaware of the existence of his parents or sister.

Then after the concert was over and the amphitheater emptied out, the Movers came out, and you see the result above.  Micah was thrilled to have gotten picked up by his favorite Mover, Rich - and he is firmly convinced that when we move to the new house, the Movers will be the ones coming to help us pack and transport our furniture and boxes.  Reality will be quite a shock . . . .

Power-less in Princeton

Yesterday I worked in the morning, and despite a driving rain that didn't seem to let up all that much we saw a number of people.  After everyone went home, I finished charts and it was just me and the couple who were in the office to strip and wax the floors.

After a stop at Target, I got on the road for home.

Quaker Road was closed due to flooding.  No big deal, any sort of heavy rainstorm seems to close that road.

Province Line Road to Route 583.  583 was closed due to a downed tree or powerline.

Back to Province Line to Route 206.  206 was closed at some random residential street, so back through that neighborhood and back onto 583, beyond whatever problem that closed it.  Trees and branches down everywhere.  Streets are tree surgeon's and wood chipper's wet dream.

Big back up beyond Princeton Battlefield waiting to turn onto Lover's Lane (a short worthless street) and back onto 206.  More trees down.

206 to Elm Road.  Had to dodge around a downed tree blocking my side of the road, but uneventful until I got to Mountain Road.  Downed tree, low-hanging power line. 

Elm becomes Great Road.  Total misnomer in general, but today moreso than ever.

Onto Cherry Valley, more of the same but fortunately it's moving and there are no blockages or back-ups.

Until I get to 206 and Cherry Valley, where traffic was diverted into the CVS Pharmacy/TD Bank parking lot due to downed power lines on 206 and no signal.  Which was OK, because I wanted to go straight through the intersection and onto Princeton Avenue after a quick stop at CVS.

Which was dark, oh so very dark.  So was the bank.  I should have had a clue by then, but it took getting to the driveway and pushing the garage door opener before all the synapses clicked.

Holy moly, it's a power outage.

Back before the dawn of my nursing career, I lived in Washington, DC and periodically the house would lose electricity during violent thunderstorms, but it was usually a matter of no more than a few hours and Pepco would restore power.  And if it lasted any longer, I could hop in the car and drive to my parents' house - and this was in the day before cell phones, laptops, Palms, Nintendos, Bluetooths.

This morning we woke to a house still without electricity, so we did what I used to do 15 to 20 years ago, we packed up and went to Mom's (or Oma's).  All of us.  Today was a planned trip for me - my mother's final chemo is tomorrow.  I actually like the drive down, it gives me four hours to organize my mental sock drawer.  No luck today, three of my 'socks' were in the passenger seats, and there was hardly a moment of quiet.

Micah wanted "The Princess Song" over and over and over again (Track 9 off of Taylor Swift's 'Fearless' CD, I don't even know it's real name.)  It's not a bad song if one overlooks that Ms. Swift is rewriting the Romeo and Juliette saga with a happy ending, which I can do when I see the look of pure be-bopping happiness on Micah's face.

Thea was absorbed by her new DS game, Pokemon HeartGold, which provided us with additional background noise (she doesn't like the earbuds, unfortunately).  Before hitting the road, we stopped at Target to pick it up and she actually contributed $18.50 of her own money towards it.

And since I worked this weekend, I am also on call - and there were a few calls during the drive down.  The good thing was I had my Bluetooth and I had Steve dial the numbers.

So we're at the Sleep Inn.  The kids got 90 minutes in the pool tonight after dinner at Oma's, so they were happy little dolphins.

Requiescat in pace

He gave the eulogy at my father's funeral in 1998, and whatever he said on that day, while not memorable in a word-for-word sense, eased the transition into a world without my Dad.  He went to high school with my mother.  He and his wife have been there for many of the major events in my family's life, from my wedding, to flying to Chicago numerous times while we were living there in the 1970s, to coming to visit us while we were in Germany in 1971, to my mother's 75th surprise birthday party, taking me at age 14 to National Airport to join my parents and brother in Chicago and that's just the short list.

I have saved for Thea the email I got from him after we sent out her adoption referral photo because it gave me a connection to memories of my father, "Wouldn't Willi love to pinch those chubby cheeks?"  In one sentence it was the perfect laugh/cry moment, especially since most of his children endured many cheek-pinchings from my father.

And on Friday, he lost his own battle with cancer, after a long and courageous fight.  The world of those faces from my childhood grows smaller yet again. I can only imagine what his wife and family must be feeling.  I hope they are finding peace, I hope in whatever my naive imaginings of the afterlife, Ray has tracked down my father and they're catching up and enjoying each others' company again, that's what I'm holding onto for now.

Rest in peace, Ray Rooney, you will be missed by all who were fortunate to have known you.

Happy Birthday Dad

Today would have been my Dad's 79th birthday.

This morning we got news that one of my mother's cousins in Germany died this morning. Marga's was always the first birthday card I received every year, until this year. Her note was short and it translates to: "How are things with you are your family? With me, it's not going so good." I wish my German was still good enough to tell her family how many good memories I have of her.

Micah got his blood drawn today. One stick, in and out in less than a minute. Much better than the last time. The phlebotomist was a guy, and looked young enough to still have photos of his senior prom in his wallet, but talent transcends chronological age.

Once Upon a Weekend. . . .

Tonight I finally got the suitcase and carry-on bag put away; they are only going to get pulled out tomorrow night to be repacked for a trip to Mom's. The house is still in chaos, but it's getting a little bit better.

The best parts of the weekend:

- hearing Thea and her cousin laughing talk,ing and playing together, preferring that their mothers butt out and let them play;

- getting to see a friend from high school and just hanging out like we saw each other last week instead of in 2003 (and having the GPS get me to her house with no snafus);

- having a better understanding of just how smart my cousin's twelve year old son is; if Thea's music teacher once called her 'scary smart' this kid is 'keep you awake at night smart";

- the wedding on Sunday in East Texas, which the GPS also got me to, despite being told that service could be a little iffy.

What can I say? The wedding was a blast. One of the top three that I've ever been to. It's nice to have a day when all the crying is for happy, happy reasons. I've got to get the pictures put on a CD so I can post them.

And now the bag is packed again for two days in Maryland, and after school today, off we go.

Back from Texas. . .

. . . .a short post, with more to follow.

Thea and I had a great trip to Texas. She got to know her cousins Cora and Gregor, I was able to see an old friend from high school and I went to the wedding of one of my oldest friends in East Texas. Our rental car had only nine miles on its odometer when we got it, and close to 600 when we dropped it off this morning. Taking my GPS unit was very worthwhile, it got me everywhere I needed to go.

Other than a minor, fatigue-related meltdown the first night at bedtime, which quickly resolved, Thea was a great traveler. Until the final twenty minutes of our flight home when she wanted to be playing her Leapster but all electronics had to be turned off.

It was a great weekend, but it's good to be home.

Weekend

We're heading down to Maryland again. My brother has arranged a surprise 80th birthday party for my mother (whose birthday is next Thursday). I got to help with the easy stuff: the invitations, making arrangements for flowers, paying for the cake, buying disposable cameras. I've been avoiding talking to my mother for about a month now - we're down to once a week from our usual three, sometimes four, times a week. I'm too afraid that I'll let something slip.

Micah's out of school today; Thea will be paroled at noon, if I've gotten packed up and the car is loaded. We have to come back Sunday night because both of them have appointments with Dr. Andy the dentist on Monday morning at 8:30 am, and if I cancel it's months for a double slot.

Ten Years Ago Today. . .

. . .it was Thanksgiving Day. My father had gotten out of the hospital a few days before, and I hadn't known or wasn't willing to believe that he was at the end of his battle against lung cancer. My parents had just elected to enroll in a hospice program after his discharge from the hospital.

At the time I worked for a UPenn practice in Northeast Philadelphia, and for whatever reason, the office manager (who was also a nurse, and the wife of the senior physician in the practice) told me to go home on the Tuesday before Thanksgiving. The practice was aware of my father's diagnosis, and the office was great about letting me take day off during the summer to go down to visit my parents and hang out with my father during his chemotherapy.

The holiday was low-key, my mother made dinner, one of my best friends came over to eat with us. My father was in bed most of the day, but he did manage to eat and drink a little bit. After cleaning up, my mother and I both went to bed, and in that house, it meant I was in my brother's old room on the lower level of the house.

I still remember my mother coming into the room at around 8:45 pm and waking me up by saying, "He's gone." And since I was still half asleep the words didn't process because I remember asking her how could he go anywhere because he needed the both of us to help him get out of bed.

It was completely surreal taking my stethoscope upstairs to listen on his chest and neck and then giving him one of those obnoxious sternal rubs while telling him that it wasn't funny and he'd better wake up.

Then it sunk in and I called the hospice nurse on call for the weekend. She was phenomenal, showing up within 20 minutes or so, helping to call the funeral home, getting my father washed and dressed in pajamas. The funeral home guys were also very kind, but both of them were so grossly overweight and out-of-shape, I had visions of one or both having an MI while carrying the stretcher down the stairs and wondering if I could really do CPR (and glad that the other nurse was there.)

I remember calling my Tante Lydia in Germany, and what a horrible, horrible feeling it was to tell her, hoping this would be the last time I'd have to pass of someone's death on. (In 1982 while I was in Germany, my maternal grandfather died, and relatives took me to see his brother, who was now the sole remaining sibling, and feeling miserable that I had made my great uncle breakdown and cry.)

Thanksgiving just hasn't been quite the same for me since then. There are many, many things that I am thankful for, but I truly miss those Thanksgiving dinners with my family, and I'm sad that my father wasn't around for all the good things that have happened over the past ten years: two weddings, three grandchildren, other family weddings and celebrations.

I miss him as much in 2008 as I did in 1998.