My Baby Done Gone and Growed Up

Today is an auspicious day.  All of my children are now in the second act of a two-act play called life.  My youngest, my baby, my Laura, has turned 40.  Zounds! I have 3 other children who have, at one time or another, hit the big 4-0h, and one who has just tripped over the half century mark, but none of those anniversaries had the impact of this one. ALL of my children are now 40 and older.  In short, I have no offspring in the 30s.  If we do the math, that makes me...carry the one...old.  As if 9 grandchildren didn't do that already.  (I imagine I will have similar feelings when Tracy reaches 60 (OMG), but with any luck I won't have to blog about it.)

I feel a bit cheated by having had so little time with Laura after her mom and I divorced, certainly not the years I had with her sisters during their youths.  I have scant few pictures of Laura to recall those times, as most of them stayed with her mom.

Not sure when this was, but pre-divorce, I think. 

 

She tried hard...but...

 ...maybe the arts.

 

 

What a cutie....

 

And talented...

Our real bonding came when I introduced Laura to snowboarding in 2003.  She was determined to get it, at all costs.  Her instructors were amazed....that any human being would submit to that level of physical punishment voluntarily. 

Here's my Righteous Babe the evening before Day 1. She was still young then. New England is icy!

Laura and friend, pre-slopes. She was excited.  Did I mention the ice?

Over the years, she acquired a taste for the snow and we took more family trips, though that was the only one she and I did together by ourselves.  One trip we went to Colorado with Brant, also an acolyte of the board--but that is another story--and all looked great... at first.

Early in trip:

End of Trip:

 And so it went for a while...Laura uphill, Laura down....But, at some point, we got the babe a decent board and her health started looking up.  Well, almost...there was that trip to Montana...oh, well, nevermind.

During the many child-bearing years of her siblings, Laura was a fantastic aunt.  You could always count on Aunt LaLa to make the kids laugh or, better yet, to take care of them.  She loved (and still loves) them all.  Her twin nieces lured her out to California in 2008 and we East Coasters have been sad ever since.  Occasional Christmases are not enough!  This is one of my favorites from one of those trips.

But LaLa hankered for some progeny of her own to raise, and in the fullness of time, I had to perform my last official act as Dad.

...which, of course, led to this:

I am amazed by what she does, and how she does it. Managing a family of two men, one big/one small, while running a personally demanding business is beyond hard.  It can't be impossible, because she is doing it.  And doing it well, amazingly even (I hear things).  The fact that she has now officially slid into middle-age makes it even tougher.   Hang in there, Laura, good things are coming. And Happy Birthday, Baby.

It's Getting Close...and Stinky

I liked the second Presidential debate better than the first--more civility. Except from the moderator. That title is a joke, none of them are moderate anythings.  VP Pence hit hard on the fracking issue (the Dems are lying about it, but that should not surprise anyone--they lie about everything) and the court packing scheme.  Tell us your plans, Joe.  He didn't.  He waffled, as politicians think they can and/or must, it seems.  When asked if he thought the American people deserved to know his stand on court packing, he said, clearly and distinctly, "No, they don't." (The best thing about Trump is that he is not a politician, he is a businessman.)

In the second debate, the President hit hard on fracking--hint, hint, they're still lying--and the unadmitted shenanigans by the Biden crime family in China, Russia, Ukraine, and who knows where else.  Influence peddling like there was no tomorrow.  Let's hope there won't be.

The sad part of this revelation about clear criminality is that many Americans are jaded about it--"that's just how things are in Washington." That is a disservice to the few public servants who don't sell themselves.  Joe should be in the Big House, not the White House.

BIDEN-HARRIS 2020

P.S. Kamala is on the left (natch)

 

Grossi's Day, comes and goes.

Ursula Johanna would have been 96 today if she could have held on.  But that was so improbable as to stretch to impossible.  Her life had been a lot for any human to take on, and I really think she was ready to go.  Without Waldo, it was even tougher.  But she loved her birthday, more than any of us. (I try to ignore mine, and have been actively doing so for the last 20 years.)

Every October 8th is a short pause in the journey of  life, to stop, stand still, and think, holy moley, what would she (and my life) be like if she were still here.  Crazy, Daddy-o. 

Here are some shots of her in happier times.

This has always been one of my favorites, not sure why. I suspect she didn't like it much because she seemed so vulnerable in it.  She was a handful at that age...by all accounts.  If you look closely, there is a resemblance to one or more of her great-granddaughters.

 

 

 

 With Waldo,  early days.  They seemed to have a good time together then.  I don't remember much about it, and they rarely showed that side to me.

 

 I think this is Tracy. Mother hated that I made her a grandmother by 45, though she soon got over it by playing with the cause.  Some people are almost that old when they give birth themselves. Yikes!

Later, during her last few months, she still ruled the roost, mostly because it wasn't worth the grief to go up against her.  She must have been very lonely.  It terrifies me when I see parts of that face looking back at me from the mirror.

    

This is a great one, despite the fact that I am in it. Four  generations...wow.  And the littlest one in the picture now towers over the other two remaining.  Life is indeed strange.  And fleeting.

The Veep Debate

Wow.  That was not as awful as I had anticipated.  Unless you count the myriad lies told by Senator Harris and the hideously slanted questions from the moderator.  How can a rational human mind not see right through that?  Oops, I forgot there are no rationale Dems.  My bad.  If Sleepy Joe and Kreepy Kamala win the election, I hope to all things sacred that Joe can hold out for all 4 years, because the only thing worse than a Biden presidency would be a Harris administration.  Oh, I do so hope America hasn't totally lost its mind come November.

I understand if you don't like Trump...TDS (Trump Derangement Syndrome) is a powerful thing.  Then please vote (i) for Pence, for America, or (ii) against Biden, against Socialism, ... like I am doing.

This is the sign that should be in the yard:

Through it all, the cat remains...unperturbed

 This is actually how she sleeps sometimes

The Zen Cat--who knew?

 Or the Yoga Master Cat...doing a pose called Circular Cat.

Lucy has departed and all we are left with, to paraphrase Walt Disney, is That Darn Cat.  A cat is what it is, and you have to understand that when you get one, but one thing it is not is a dog.   If Bella has noticed that she is now alone with us, she hasn't let on. She continues to rule with an iron paw. The aloofness, a stereotypical cat attribute which Bella takes to absurd lengths, heightens the pain of Lucy's absence.  But what can you do?--she is so darn pretty.

See?

 Here she is hiding behind some Christmas decorations--on the table--because she was afraid of something. That should probably have said "everything." 

There is no man, woman, or child, or situation of any kind, that Bella isn't afraid of, even (especially?) us. 

 

Often we wish we knew what was going on in that little head, but, sadly, it's a guess.

Here are some options:

(and now for one of my favorites...that says it all for the dog/cat duality)

The Dog’s Diary 

8:00 am - Dog food! My favorite thing!
9:30 am - A car ride! My favorite thing!
9:40 am - A walk in the park! My favorite thing!
10:30 am - Got rubbed and petted! My favorite thing!
12:00 pm - Milk bones! My favorite thing!
1:00 pm - Played in the yard! My favorite thing!
3:00 pm - Wagged my tail! My favorite thing!
5:00 pm - Dinner! My favorite thing!
7:00 pm - Got to play ball! My favorite thing!
8:00 pm - Wow! Watched TV with the people! My favorite thing!
11:00 pm - Sleeping on the bed! My favorite thing!

The Cat’s Diary

Day 3,983 of My Captivity....

My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects. They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while the other inmates and I are fed hash or some sort of dry nuggets. Although I make my contempt for the rations perfectly clear, I nevertheless must eat something in order to keep up my strength.

The only thing that keeps me going is my dream of escape. In an attempt to disgust them, I once again vomit on the carpet. Today I decapitated a mouse and dropped its headless body at their feet. I had hoped this would strike fear into their hearts, since it clearly demonstrates my capabilities. However, they merely made condescending comments about what a “good little hunter” I am. Bastards!

There was some sort of assembly of their accomplices tonight. I was placed in solitary confinement for the duration of the event. However, I could hear the noises and smell the food. I overheard that my confinement was due to the power of “allergies.” I must learn what this means, and how to use it to my advantage.

Today I was almost successful in an attempt to assassinate one of my tormentors by weaving around his feet as he was walking. I must try this again tomorrow, but at the top of the stairs.

I am convinced that the other prisoners here are flunkies and snitches. The dog receives special privileges. He is regularly released, and seems to be more than willing to return. He is obviously retarded. The bird must be an informant. I observe him communicate with the guards regularly. I am certain that he reports my every move. My captors have arranged protective custody for him in an elevated cell, so he is safe. For now ...

Lucy Has Left Us

 

Lucy is gone, another victim in the long line of cancer sufferers who were not fortunate enough to hang on. She had been a trooper for well over a year, as the tumor limited her breathing and eating, and as it swelled and distorted her face. She was still beautiful to us. She slowly gave up the things she loved the most, beginning with her walks, then her treats, then finally, yesterday, food itself.  She was taking pills 5 times a day, sometimes more, to keep the poisonous beast at bay. Until yesterday.  By last night and this morning, she was a shell of her former magnificence, and lay quietly on the floor or in the grass outside. And yet, if we approached, she would try to wag and get up to greet us. And then move away tired again and wanting to be alone. Her final gift to us was a sign that it was time--she stopped eating and just lay around.  And we decided to relieve her suffering.

The doctors were very caring, and she was her usual sweet self during the process. And so at peace at the end. We are devastated, wandering around trying to reconcile the loving gift of release we gave her with the huge hole she left in our hearts. Fortunately, I believe (as should we all because not to is too painful and illogical) that death is not the end of all, but a change of form, and that I will see my precious baby once again. Someday. And then we both will know "the Secret." 

 

This is Lucy's obituary, in pictures.  A memorial to her cuteness. 

 

We are ineffably sad, but also grateful we had so many years with her. Goodbye, sweet loving creature.

 

 

It's Been 15 years!!!! And Waldo is still gone...

The time hasn't flown by, as we might expect, but it has gotten way out of hand.  I still remember the visits in hospice and what a soldier he was.  He wanted to be sure he had a phone so he could call his friends and say goodbye one last time.  He did not expect Jim and Peggy Noyes to get that call, and drive down from Pennsylvania to say goodbye in person. But they did.  So much sadness in his leaving but, by God, he was smiling (he knew what was in store). And he is still, I am sure. So here's to you, Daddy, we still miss you.