Grandchildren -- The True Treasures of a Long and Distinguished Life in and out of GeezerHood!

 

Memoirs of a Geezer

  

Reflections and Observations -- A Bright Passage from the Fantasies of Youth to Illuminations of Advanced Maturity!

This Episode:            Grandchildren -- The True Treasures of a Long and 

                           Distinguished Life in and out of GeezerHood!!

Such a handsome lad.  Love the 
Colorful Shades!

There are of course -- in the sphere of building great relationships with grandchildren -- certain imperatives:   Abundant and Unconditional Love, Frequent and Well-Deserved Praise, Support, Positive Affirmations... Many and often...   That's how and what we do, and will continue to do; that is, to shower our much-loved grandkids with the most important gifts we can give them, the aforementioned... 

We -- SweetHeart and I -- are privileged to have our first-born, a film and musical phenomenon, in the mix; a brilliant athlete and soccer star; a cross-country and track star athlete and a champion tennis player, and soccer star athlete as well.  But their far more important attributes are the human ones -- their loving and generous personalities, their remarkable senses of humor, their friendship, their kindnesses, their absolutely delightful behavioral characteristics!

 We are fortunate beyond my poor, or anyone's ability to heap praise upon them, or to offer our profound gratitude to have them in our lives!!  I mean, yeah, we're very lucky.  (I'm guessing many grandparental folk feel the same...  Yes?...  Right?!...  Are you listening out there??!) 

A Great Star on and Off 
the Pitch, and Handsome
to Boot!

Such a Talented and
Graceful Runner.  
Shown above at a 
Cross Country Event

The gifts they've given us, like discovering a cache of uncut diamonds while digging in a garden plot, include outstanding films enhanced by original music scores along with opportunities to appear in said films, hours of sometimes sun-drenched or wind-chilled pleasure witnessing soccer (Euro-football) action on the pitch, not to mention a race to score 121 points round a circuitous (preferred!) and colorful track (cribbage).  

Racing in challenging terrain or round an oval course is another delight we have enjoyed thanks to a granddaughter who loves running, does so superbly, setting personal
records with nearly every event.  Making the State Meet as a result of her abilities and her prowess!  She is poetry in a track uniform.  

We never complain of cricks in our necks, pains or anxiety watching our youngest grandchild smack a tennis ball with skill and poise, optionally lobbing it just out of an opponent's reach.  She -- an excellent singles player -- and her team of both singles and doubles made the State Tournament and emerged triumphant.  She plays soccer as well, and does so quite well!

A Star Runner, both
Cross Country and
Track -- Relay
and 
Whatever They call
the Mile, 
These Days!
(1500 Meters?  
Metric Mile...?)
(What's LuLu Lookin' at?) 

She plays tennis, she
plays soccer, and 
she crochets
superbly as one
can readily
bear witness! 
Her Turtle Loves
Her Too!

    This is, of course an obvious additive,            perhaps one that's needless to add, but I        feel I must pay tribute to our                            extraordinary children, essentially to                thank them for the great pleasure of being    an Abuelo y Abuela! 

    We offer praise and gratitude to said     children for making such titles and     transformative variations possible!  They,     the grandchildren, are life's previous     gems, like sunshine, their faces are glorious   portraits...  I mean, overall, as the title     infers...      Treasures worthy to be installed     in the Prado or the Louvre or at least our       local art center...!   Don't argue with me!!  

I think I said that correctly, or conveyed properly what I think I meant to say!  Didn't I?  (I mean, of course, the "transformative variations" phrase??!!) 

Of course there were challenges in the early or formative years of those beloved grandkids.  Hauling them in the big red coaster wagon down, but then up the steep hill from a lakeside "raceway" to the top of that mountainous incline.  I dripped, was drenched and soaked in sweat as though I had accidentally wandered stupefied into a car wash without the car.  (I think I only did that once, but I may have been inebriated, or simply stunned by an errant golf ball!...  or was it a dropped brick in a construction site??!!)....  I can't readily recall...  But refreshing, the car wash, that is!!

Oh, and didn't we have a hoot throwing them into the air and letting then land squealing and laughing crazily on a queen mattress.  Making them manic and buzzed in the process, and exhausting ourselves as well.  Our children were not always thrilled with that outcome, meaning returning to them the half-crazed and wired grandkids of course.  Lots of sugary treats didn't help much!  But SweetHeart and I sure had fun in the process!

(Special Note of Dedication:   For Coen (Coey, Co Co), Sean (Seany), Lucy (LuLu) and Sophia (PhiPhi, Phia) who give us such joy, laughter, love and happy adventures!  Thank You!!)  

Submitted 11-13-2025 -- by Joel K  

   

 

    

 

They Grow Up too fast... Now Even the Grandkids Want the Stories!

Memoirs of a Geezer

  

Reflections and Observations -- A Bright Passage from the Fantasies of Youth to Illuminations of Advanced Maturity!

This Episode:                    They Grow Up too Fast...   

                    Now Even the Grandkids Want the Stories!!

We're driving along cheerfully, taking the newly-turned teenaged (13) grandson to his soccer camp.  Suddenly he demands, from the back seat, just behind SweetHeart, his "Baba."  "Baba," he begins in a loud and gleeful voice, "tell me how Papa proposed to you."  He, the grandson, is already expecting a risible result, beaming in anticipation!

SweetHeart dives into the tale, and with a significant degree of relish.  "At some point, when we were dating, maybe for about 10 months or so into what Papa likes to call our 'courtship,' I can't

Map of Colorado...  Showing Alamosa!

remember exactly when, Papa tells me he's interested in considering the possibility of buying a small, weekly newspaper in Alamosa, Colorado.  'I'd like you to come with me,' he says."

"Well," SweetHeart / Baba continuing the story, feigning indignation as she did at the time of the actual event, "if you think for one moment I'm going to put in for a transfer to Denver (she flew for United Air Lines, and had recently re-located her flight base from Los Angeles to Chicago!), drop everything and follow you all over the country, you're very much mistaken. But then Papa replied, 'I wouldn't expect you to do so out of wedlock.'  That's Papa for you...  Captain Romance!" 

"I mean," SweetHeart / Baba continued, "who uses the word 'wedlock'?!"  

Seany, our grandson, was immediately consumed with laughter.  "Yeah, 'Captain Romance,' " he

Photo of Seany when he was very young, and
Papa was feeding him an ice cream cone.  
One of our favorite pix...  Now he's 13!!

echoed amid peals of laughter.  "Tell me another story about Papa."

"Hmmm," Baba began, "when Papa was first going to meet my entire family, we were all going out for dinner.  Papa had the habit of wearing the same suit, or outfit, for each day of the workweek.  This was a Friday.  His 'Friday suit' was actually pretty decent...  sort of a light-colored suit with brown flecks, dark brown shirt and a nubby tan tie.  His best outfit.  I was happy, anticipating he'd show up in that very outfit.  I went to the door, answering his ring.  'What happened to your Friday suit,' I asked, shocked and disappointed at the way he looked, certain I'd be embarrassed when my family got a load of him.  He was wearing the Friday suit, but his shirt was a pattern of blue, peach  and white stripes, and he was wearing a brown tie with gold lions!  It was awful.  He said his 'Friday shirt' was in the wash."

Seany's laughing, enjoying the tale.  "I should have had 'Garanimals,' " says Papa. 

"What's that?" Seany asks.  "I've never heard of that...  Garanimals?!"  

Baba answers, "It was a kind of kids' clothing from the 70s or 80s.  Shirts and pants had tags that identified which went with which, so that kids could pick out their own outfits, and their moms would know everything would match.  Little kids could dress themselves, choose their own clothes

Wondering if anyone remembers "Garanimals"?

for the day."

"Tell me another funny Papa story," Seany requests.

"Our first date!" Baba begins, remembering in a flash of intuition.  "On one occasion, and it wasn't the first time, I met Papa at a bar.  He came in with no money in his pockets, left with a snoot full and 65 cents...   My friend, Donna -- who liked Papa and had a friendship with him --  told me that I'd probably only ever meet Papa in bars, and he'd never call.  On that occasion, however, Papa said he had to make a trip to Denver, and he'd call me when he got back.  He did.  He called me and asked me on a date, to go to a Marquette Men's basketball game.  We spent the first half of the game with Papa looking for a free parking space. We made it for the second half.   'Captain Cheapskate.'

"Papa's and my friend, Pat, when I told him about that episode, said, 'You better get used to it.' " 

Seany laughed through the telling of the "date story," and as it came to an end, asked, "Who won

the basketball game?"  

Baba answered, "I think Papa did.  He saved five bucks in parking fees."  We arrived at Mount Mary University, site of Seany's soccer camp.  He was still smiling and chuckling as he exited the vehicle, grabbing his soccer sack and water bottle as he did.  "You know, we're picking you up.  See you at three.  We love you." Baba concluded, as she and Papa waved a goodbye.  

  

(Special Note of Dedication:    To Seany, in honor of his 13th Birthday, and a very special occasion that he'll experience in November of 2020.  We love you to bits!!  -- Baba and Papa!)

Humbly Submitted, 08-15-2020 -- Joel  K.

  

 

 

  

 

  

  

A New Wave of Conversation -- Or, Talking Points in the Geezer Age!

Memoirs of a Geezer!

Reflections and Observations -- A Bright Passage from the Fantasies of Youth 

to Illuminations of Advanced Maturity!

This Episode:    A New Wave of Conversation -- Or, Talking Points in the Geezer Age!

Compare it to a fogged glass of memory -- like squinting through a scrim in a stage play -- I try to summon scenes of life from the bloom of youth -- back about two score and 5 or 10 years ago.  It's not easy trying to recall distant conversations, gathered round dining or drinking tables, discussions that so enthralled us.  What topics commanded our attention, those that initiated overlapping, rapid-fire dialogue?  And how do today's conversations with peers compare?  Back then, I know we talked about friends, sports, parties, games, jobs, school, major courses of study, even career ideas, military service experiences, politics, travel, money or the lack of it, and, yes, if less enthusiastically, the future, our future...

If we discussed anything having to do with the state of our health, it usually had to do with injuries incurred during sporting events -- a broken tibia suffered on the ski slopes, a rib cracked playing football or rugby, a "blown ACL" during soccer or rounding second base, a toe smashed by some behemoth lunatic galoot who landed on it in a volleyball match.

The Photo above  has little or nothing to do with this post.
I try to emulate Popeye, as I appear to be striking an
heroic pose aboard a stranded tug boat on Duluth's
Lake Superior shoreline.  The photo does,  however,
illustrate a descent into profound foolishness
that can often accompany geezer-hood!

  

 

And now?...

"Hello!  Is this Mrs. Geezie at the insurance place?...  Does my supplemental insurance cover a chiropractor?...  Uh huh...  Yes...  How about cosmetic surgery, like a jowl tuck...?  OK, yes...  I see.  Does Medicare cover the entire cost of a hip replacement?...  An ankle rebuild?  What?  Can you speak louder?..."

On a recent evening, my wife and I are having dinner with friends.  We'd been to an art museum.  (Doesn't seem that long ago the extent of our cultural enterprise would have been weaving from one saloon to another saloon!)  We stopped for dinner at a fine new restaurant.  Almost trendy.  I ordered a diet brown pop with a slice of lime.  (It's my current beverage of choice.  I get artificially inebriated lately drinking too much non-alcoholic wine-like stuff!)

I begin a conversation.  Our companions are "Yo" and "Glo":  "So, how are we doing?  How's your pain level.  I understand you've been having some trouble in the lower extremities?"

"Yeah, thanks for asking," says Yo.  "It's my shin bones.  I think I have splints, you know, from fast walking on cement or something."

"What are you doing for it," I ask.

"Ach...  what can one do?  I mean, the doctor says 'stay off your legs...  Rest, sit down, elevate your feet...  ice your shins 20, 30 minutes, two, three times a day...  And orthotics.  Do you have orthotics in your shoes?...'  Ah, for pity f-ing sake, I'm walking!  Not running 30 miles through Death Valley!!" 

"Yeah!  I know what you mean.  I get freezing toes on my right foot when I walk in winter.  I bought a mitten for my toes, but I can't find the damned thing.  My toes are always freezing.  Never used to freeze!  Think it's a kind of rheumatism?"

"Listen, my dear.  I going to dash out of here in a moment
so that we can 'beat the check.'  You wait a minute or
two, then you race out...!"
"Race!!??  Are you nuts!!?  I can barely rise!"

"Knees!" Yo announces truculently, like a biblical revelation.  "I got rattling dice in both my knees.  And my shoulder!  Geezus!  I lift a beer bottle and my shoulder erupts in a chorus of crunchy munchies and cracking twigs!"
"Please," I say.  "Don't ask me about knees.  I'm walking up steps in Milwaukee; they can hear me in Cincinnati!"

Glo addresses my wife.  "I think I have a kind of arthritis in my hands.  Really painful, especially when I mop."

"Tell me about it," says my wife.  "When I vacuum, my back is pure agony.  And mopping too.  It's that awkward body motion one has to use.  It's a misery!  I could be laid up an entire week!"

"Listen," I say to Yo, "What kind of pain medications do you take?  Ibuprofen, maybe?  Aspirin with codeine?  Smoke a joint?"

Glo jumps in, "I sometimes take a muscle relaxer, but they make me exhausted.  I'm destroyed for a whole day afterwards."  

"Ohmygod," my wife responds.  "Same with me!  I'm a sleep-walking zombie for 24 hours."  

A portrait of the artist
as a young geezer!

So when the hell did all of this happen, for crying out loud??!!  I mean, if someone introduces the subject of football or soccer, the conversation moves almost instantly into injuries suffered during a touch football game, or demonstrating a goalie move to a child,  resulting in involuntary splits -- impossible to reverse without the intervention of a team of medics and a mechanical hoist.  If we're not talking about grandkids, for example, we're a Greek Chorus, chanting agonies, surgeries, joint horrors and doctors who nearly killed us!  

As a young man, I worked in a liquor store run by a family of characters one couldn't possibly invent.  Rose, the elderly sister of the principal owner, shambled constantly back and forth through the aisles, arms folded, haunting the store like an anguished ghoul, announcing every 10 minutes or so, "Oh dear god, how I suffer, how I suffer!"  To which her brother, after every groan and lamentation, responded, "Rose, for god's sake, don't start with me!"  Or...  "Rose, shut the hell up, I'm beggink you...?!"  Sometimes...  "Rose, please, I'm trying to think...  I have a customer here...  We're discussing!"  

At the time, I thought, "If I ever degenerate into caricatures like these babbling lunatics, please, someone shoot me!"  But now -- and I'm still wondering when did this happen, for pity f-ing sake -- I'm there.  I'm "Rose" the roaming zombie ghoul, uttering ejaculations of pain as a knee collapses or a hip sends a bullet of agony into my tortured brain.

Back at the restaurant...  Yo asks, "Who's that old actor who said, 'getting old aint for sissies,' Bitzy or Netty something?"
"Yeah," I say.  "I think I remember.  It's almost funny, if sadly true.  Is she still with us; was this a recent observation?"
"Nah," says Yo.  "She's dead.  Couldn't be recent, unless she's been exhumed to make public service announcements for the elderly."  We chuckle.  

Sometimes I listen to my children and their friends as they chatter happily, noisily about subjects that probably consumed our own range of interests when my peers and I were young.  But, I wouldn't want to go backward; I'm perfectly happy to be firmly ensconced in "robust middle age"...  better known in some circles as "GeezerHood" or "senior status."  I mean, I get nice discounts, lots of them.  And after we play volleyball on Monday nights, I go sit down and change my shoes, while the youngsters take down and put away the nets.

Sometimes, older persons engage in
Fine Whining while dining!  As an
old friend once remarked, "I'm
only happy when I'm miserable...
or drinking!"  

Conversations may have taken a turn toward pills and the grave these days, but I wouldn't trade places with anyone who still gets pimples and embarrassment anxiety.  Good friends of our common generational status share values and history, and we can talk about things that would only bewilder, or bore, those begat a generation or two later than our own.  And besides, "geezer chatter" creates a world of amusement for our children and their children, if they happen to be listening.  It'd be remiss of us to deprive them of such a vast reservoir of potential ridicule, not to mention riotous mirth!

I hasten to apologize to those more advanced in years than I if I seem to be usurping their prerogatives of bruising misery and body pain complaints.  I merely wanted to effect a start, in case I can't somehow articulate a proper amount of verbal or written aging agony a decade or two hence!!  Thank you!  I have to go lie down now...  

(Special Note of Attribution and Gratitude:   The perpetrator of this Blog extends enormous thanks to his great friends, Rob and Sue, and to SweetHeart too!  Thank you for the fine suggestions, for the germs of ideas that led to this post and for your good company, or please accept my apologies, as the case may be!  My love and profound thanks for your patience, understanding and generosity of spirit!) 

Humbly Submitted 12-02-14 -- Joel K.