Schooling (with) Grampa

Both of my grandchildren are brilliant (they get that from BOTH sides of the family). They love dancing. That's pretty much where the similarity ends. Jolie is compliant and a pleaser the great majority of the time. So much so that I have to resist the urge to automatically take her side in any disagreement. She just got straight A's again on her final 5th grade report card. Jeslyn's second grade card was all "very good" or "outstanding", which represents a tremendous deal of growth on her part. I'm proud of both of them, love them to death, and feel so fortunate that they live so close, knowing a lot of my contemporaries don't have that luxury.

But (you knew there would be a "but"), Jes spends a lot of her time saying, "I'm sorry," either because we make her do so or she realizes she has crossed the line. Today was one of those times, and I'm realizing it's so much harder for me to be consistent with her than I was with Jen or Tim. They had a sleepover last night and were absolutely perfect. Got up this morning, entertained themselves until we got up, and it was time to go to breakfast. Jan and Jen had decided to meet at 9 at Corner Bakery, to turn over the girls so Jen could take them with her to help at Dream Dinners. Jeslyn, "I just went to Corner Bakery yesterday." Mom and Jan decided that a local diner, Papa Z's would work out best for timing and location. Jeslyn: "I'm not going to Papa Z's," and bullied her way into a trip to Coco's. This while planning what time Grampa would take her swimming when Dream Dinners was over. I decided it would be best if I didn't accompany them to Coco's and decided to ride my bike instead. Past Coco's. After a couple of loops, I decided to join them, not wanting to eat but wanting to spend time with them. First words from Jeslyn, "Sorry, Grampa, will you still take me swimming?" About two minutes later she threw a mini-tantrum about the smell of Jan's spinach omelette. I left.

I worked in the shed for awhile, exchanging winter clothing for summer clothing, and the girls arrived to pick up their stuff before heading for dream dinners. Jeslyn had written an apology. I refused to take it. She put it on the bed and said, "Read it." It was, "Sorry Grampa, will you still take me swimming. I'll promise to do better." Jan, to me: "Don't you give in and take her swimming." She also said, "Be mad at her, but don't stop loving her." Like that could ever happen. I also feel guilty NOT accepting her apology, knowing the limitless times God allows me to say, "I'm sorry." I tell her, "Wouldn't it be nice if you behaved in a way that made it not necessary to say you were sorry?" And God whispers, "Would you listen to yourself?!"

So I told her that as of right now, she wasn't going swimming. That I was going to require her to do something to show how badly she wanted to swim. It may be something as simple as writing 50 times, "I do not make the rules, I'm 7." I may make her read this blog (cruel and unusual punishment, I know). Ultimately my job as a grandparent is not to raise her. That's Jen and Jeff's job, and they are great at it. My job is to love her and try to make my correction in line with what they would do. I'm thankful she's not the type of child to say, "Go ahead and tell them, I don't care." The fear of Daddy is a wonderful thing. But it's tough to live with a perfect older sibling. Ask my son.

So off to Dream Dinners. I was thinking Dr. Dobson would have been proud of me for establishing boundaries. And we both would have been vindicated by her parting shot, which also reminded me who really was in charge: She blew me a kiss.

Moiola's Got (some) Talent

Went to another of my granddaughter's talent shows this week and last, and while I usually publish a tongue-in-cheek review, I won't be reviewing many of the performances this time, in that the programs was at 3 hours and still going when I left. Apparently all one has to do to qualify to perform in the talent show is to fill out an application. And, as I am now a retired teacher, I will take the liberty that many of my friends do, and that's to tell the Principal at Moiola how to run her school.

First of all, as I said, anyone who says they have a talent "tries out" for the final show. We saw the tryouts, and everyone who tried out appeared to have made the show. This included things like a young man dressed in camo who waved a stick in the air and eventually was "killed" by an intruder who was unarmed. Who knew that when we played army as kids we were exhibiting a talent? Two young ladies sang a song that I think was entitled "Across the Universe." I realized the title was actually a metaphor for the distance between their performance and perfect pitch. Three girls got into sleeping bags and their moms threw stuffed animals at them from behind the curtain. That was it. I can imagine them saying, "When I grow up I want to be a target." Or at least work there. It suddenly dawned on me that the reason that we have so many talentless people trying out for American Idol is that their elementary school didn't have the courage to tell them they had no talent.

The program also did something that I thought was impossible: It made me appreciate "Dancing with the Stars." Not for the dancing, of course, but for the fact that the dances have a time limit. One boy, who was very talented, did a break dance to a song that had to be six minutes long. Yes, he was good, yet the kids enjoyed it, but 6 minutes? My reason for this is very personal. First of all, I came to see my granddaughters perform, as I'm sure did many others (their grandchildren, not mine, though I suppose the word has gotten out about my grandchildren by now). The program started at 9 and my girls finally got on about 11:15. Fortunately, I had the time. My son in law did not. He had to get back to cover a final and did not get to watch the girls, neither Jolie's singing or Jolie and Jeslyn's dance, which they had prepared as a surprise for Daddy. Jennifer even went up and asked if the girls could be moved up, but no dice. And, of course, her video camera went belly up in the middle of the girls' dance--I think even a new camera would have died of old age waiting for the performance.

The girls' turns finally came, and for me at least I'm glad I stayed. Jolie sang Taylor Swift's "Love Story" and nailed it even better than she did last week when her voice teacher was there to watch (thanks, Chelsea). Almost all of the other "singers" just did a lip sync to the actual performance, which made Jolie's stand-alone even better, in my unbiased opinion. Then the girls danced a routine to "I Can't Do This Alone," (that's close enough) from "Chicago." So well done, and so sorry dad missed it. They are doing it again at their recital in a couple of weeks, but I know they really wanted to surprise him Monday.

OK, pity party done. I can understand the philosophy of letting everyone experience performing in front of a group, and the reluctance to tell people "you weren't good enough." I wouldn't want to be the one to tell a 5-year-old that nobody really wants to see him balance a big feather on his hand for 4 minutes. (I think I would have been able to tell the trio of girls who danced to Rocky Horror's "Let's Do the Time Warp Again," that performing hip thrusts in front of a bunch of jr hi boys was not a good idea). The Special Olympics has shown us the value of rewarding everyone who participates. So I get that. I'm sure the kids don't mind because a 3-hour performance is 3 hours out of class. So, in my ideal talent show, I probably couldn't tell someone they had no talent, either. So here's what I'd do (I'm sure you were dying to see this).

1) Define categories. What is talent, and more importantly, what isn't. I don't think it's a talent for some 7th grade boys to dunk a basketball into a 4-foot basket. (Tho it was kind of entertaining to watch the kid in the Celtics jersey keep missing at that height. Art imitates life.).

2) Limit the length. Most kids would have the technological capacity to edit out a verse or chorus of a song. Say you can only read 2 of your poems, not 7. Under current "guidelines" a kid could haul up a TV and an x-box and subject us to watching him play a role-playing game for 2 hours. It's definitely a talent, but out of place in this setting.

3) Give the parents a clue when their child (or grandchild) will perform. Even if was just "before recess" or "after recess" would have helped Jeff schedule differently. When I sing in church and friends come to watch (It could happen!), it's good to be able to give them an approximate time so they can either come watch or come up with a credible excuse. The way it's done now almost makes it seem like the show is for the kids' benefits, not ours. How selfish is that?

Every good sermon has 3 points, so I'll stop there.

Joplin Thoughts

My friend Don started blogging again after a two year break. I thought I had gone as long but I realized I wrote a blog after my Mom died last September. Don't know if I'll go another 9 months, but let's see if I remember how to do this.

I got a call a couple of weeks ago from Curtis, who is on our pastoral staff, to see if I was interested in helping drive a load of supplies to Joplin to help with earthquake. After considering for about a minute, I called back and said I was in. We left the Tuesday morning after Memorial Day, about 5 am, with a 26-foot u-haul loaded with supplies that The Bridge in Joplin said they needed. The Bridge is an outreach ministry in Joplin that focuses on junior highers, but had become the HQ for FEMA and the Red Cross, among others, in the city.

Our first day included paying $4.89 a gallon for gas in Needles, then seeing a Love's truck stop about 15 miles into Arizona for about $3.69; lunch at Cracker Barrel in Kingman--one of the best reasons for leaving the state of California; 3 more gas stops, a snack at subway, a lightning show as we entered New Mexico, and finally stopping about 1 am mountain time in Tucumcari, NM. Along with me, there was Curtis Templeton and John Bayhi, and we all got to know each other a lot better and in some cases, more than we needed to know! I now know that Curtis likes Wendy's as much as I do, tho I go for the chili and he goes for the frosties.

After about a 6 hour respite in Tucumcari, we headed out Wednesday morning for what turned out to be the remaining 10-hour drive to Joplin. Our driving shift was basically a tank of gas, and we all drove 3 shifts on the way out. the plan was to drop our supplies, drive the truck back to Tulsa, and fly out on Friday. By the time we got to Joplin it was too late to drop off supplies until the next day, so we drove into town to find our quarters for the night at Ozark Christian College. We were met there by our outreach pastor Mike Ferrulli, who had flown in that day with his wife Danielle. On our way we got our first breath-sapping view of the damage wrought by what turned out to be the first category 5 tornado in modern times. It comes upon you so suddenly as you crest a hill headed into downtown. I brilliantly forgot my camera, but quite a few pictures have been posted on the church's website and facebook page, so just go to FCCHB.com if you want to see them. Roughly a mile wide section of the downtown and residential areas had disappeared. We were there 10 days after the twister, and all they had basically been able to do was clear the streets. We were told not to bring water because they didn't need any, and as we drove down Main street there were pallets of water stacked on just about every block.

To say the accomodations at OCC were spartan would be generous. There were dorm bunks, no bedding, and they really didn't have accomodations for Danielle. We resigned ourselves to rough it there for one night, left the truck there and headed back downtown in the van that Mike had rented in Kansas City. We began driving through the destroyed neighborhoods. John and Curtis had their cameras working feverishly, and we made quite a few stops. I honestly don't remember much, because it was just more than my aging mind could comprehend. But here's what I do remember.

There was a police and military presence, because events like this always bring out the parasites who prey on the misfortune of others. Rather than dodge the officials, the guys went up and made friends with them. Once they realized we were there to help and not help ourselves, they opened up and allowed us to take pictures to show the folks back home why their help was needed. Houses had spray painted signs like "together we will overcome", "God saved us," and "room for rent, nothing down"--on a shell of a house. It was about then that the thought came to me that, paraphrasing the old saw about atheists in foxholes, there are no atheists in Joplin. Throughout our short time there, I did not hear one person blame God, whine about poor me, etc. Once again it was shown in Joplin that the church of God flourishes when times are at their worst, probably because it reminds us that we cannot survive in this world without His help.

We came upon a couple and 3 adolescent girls searching thought the ruins of a house in a way that suggested ownership. We stopped and the boys asked if there was any way they could help. It was at this encounter that I realized that they were so perfectly suited for the job they have been given in the church. It turns out the house belonged to one of the girls, who was staying in the home of the couple while he family sought lodging for all of them. They had brought her to see if there was anything she could find that was salvagable. They had no luck while we were there. The couple was from a small storefront church on Main street. the husband had gone back to work after a week, as their pastor had admonished those who still had jobs to go back to work, "because we are going to be taking care of a lot of people for a long time, and so those of you that can need to start earning money again." I didn't hear the man complaining about redistribution of wealth--which of course is what the church is called to do. Contact information was exchanged, and this church will be a starting point for our team that is scheduled to return in July to provide whatever assistance we can in the rebuilding of Joplin.

The couple told one of those stories that inevitably comes out of events like this, one that defies credibility and suggests a God who is active in such times. They had a couple in their church who was on their honeymoon when the storm hit, and came home to find both of their apartments destroyed, along with all of their wedding presents and pictures. They have friends in Springfield 75 miles away. Their wedding pictures wound up landing in the front lawn of their friends in Springfield.

I heard another story about the twister in Oklahoma City. A lady hid in her bathtub from the approaching storm and "the Good Lord" told her to move into the other bathroom. When the storm passed the second bathroom was all that was left standing. the bathtub was in a nearby tree.

Darkness was approaching and the affected area had a 9 pm curfew, so we prepared to pack it in for the night. though it appeared all hotels were booked, Curtis decided to try anyway because we had decided that OCC was not acceptable for the makeup of our group. After about 3 tries, and no one laughing in his face, Curtis was directed to a Baywood Inn and Suites, which was the designated hotel for emergency workers, and thus could not take advance or multiple-day reservations. We had 3 rooms for the night, a free breakfast, and a rested resolve to face the next day.

When we picked up the truck at 9 the next morning and headed to the Bridge, we were told that they were full up and no longer accepting supplies. We were directed across town to a Title Max, which is a company that floats short term loans, usually in exchange for the title to one's car. They had a distribution center setup, but it basically looked like a garage sale, with discarded clothing and shoes and not much else. So they needed and took everything our church had donated. It took the 4 of us about 4 1/2 hours to empty the truck, with Danielle providing unbelievable leadership inside the building to get the material sorted into some kind of organization. While we were there a few families came in for assistance, and it was the best part of the trip to watch them find new bedding, new supplies for their babies, and food to get them through the next few days. Curtis also handed out some prayer shawls our ladies had knitted, and the receiving ladies were incredibly touched. Our main concern at this point was that the word would get out about what was available. About 2, we were bolstered by the arrival of 6 volunteers from a local church. We left them with the task of sorting the supplies that we had only been able to unload from the truck with no recognizable order. Danielle overheard one of them say, "they finally found something for us to do." I was at this time so struck by the realization that in this country of ours, in the face of unimaginable tragedy, they had more supplies than they needed in the short term, and more volunteers than they knew what to do with.

Went to lunch at Billy Sims barbecue, recommended by the locals. Sims was a Heisman Trophy winner at the University of Oklahoma and I think he's a Joplin native. We found a u-haul place that took the truck and allowed us to van back to Tulsa to spend the night and fly home on Friday. We had a great meal in Tulsa and were treated to one of their Thursday summer concerts which is a huge event. The evening's entertainment was by a 60s cover band called "Midlife Crisis." There's a certain closure to that!

So now I'm home. As always, I am struck by the fact that so few in California have Joplin on their mind. We all bought shirts that say "restore Joplin" on the front, and in Missouri and Oklahoma they were automatic conversation starters. I've worn it a couple of times since getting home, and Californians just looked through it. I've decided that the desciption "America's heartland," has a new meaning for me as I think of the people we met in the midwest. there were times where I was just overwhelmed by the enormity of the task, and the belief that these people are up to it. Nearly every working business marquee had words of thanks, resolve, scripture, prayer, and encouragement.

If you want to help, there are all kinds of websites. The restore joplin site sells the t-shirts, with all of the proceeds staying in Joplin to help with the rebirth.

I've rambled a lot and haven't really said anything, I think. But maybe one reader will get the call to help and make a difference. that makes it worth the effort to put the thoughts down on cyberpaper.

Answered Prayer

Haven't blogged in a couple of months, probably because it's just easier to write a note on facebook and distribute it that way. But thought I would write at least one more, because quite some time ago I blogged about my mother's situation, her failing health, and our prayers that she would be released from this body and this earth.

Well, got a call from the home about 1:45 this morning saying those prayers had finally gotten answered. She passed away in her sleep with apparently no suffering, so that, too was a direct answer to prayer, and I know she's not suffering now. As with any such news, it doesn't matter how much we prayed for this, and how ultimately it is good, when the event finally happens it is a shock and a loss, and I'm hurting a lot more than I expected.

Finally decided to try reaching my sister about an hour later. She is visiting my nephew Jeff in Seattle, and wound up leaving a voice mail. She called right back and we talked for a few minutes. Turns out she normally turns her phone off at night, but for "some reason" had left it on last night. Mom had been treated for a tooth absess (sp?) last month, but otherwise did not appear to be in immediate danger, though Karen said she showed a little less affect every time she visited. I'm feeling a little guilty in that it's been quite a while since I made the trip to see Mom, with travel this summer. We were planning to go sometime this month, but God had other ideas. We probably won't have a service, but will try to get all the grandkids together and have her and Dad's ashes sprinkled somewhere in the mountains.

Left a message for Tim and he called about 5:30. Again, we hadn't seen much of her in the last few years, but it was not an easy conversation for either of us. Still waiting for a call from Jen, and I still think of the essay she wrote in high school about my getting her out of class in 1988 to tell her Dad had died. By the way, Dad would have been 103 two days before Mom died. Wonder if she was aware of that.

So, I'm a 61-year-old orphan. I got to keep my parents a lot longer than many of my childhood friends, and I am happy for that. I'm happy for Mom, too, that she is rid of this body she had come to despise.

I was planning to make a post on Dad's birthday, and wound up forgetting to do that. I was going to send a letter with Mom's share of costs payment this month, and didn't do that, either. Bad son. I want to say one more time that I love (present tense) my Mom and Dad, am thankful that God gave me to them, and that they both lived long enough to enjoy their grandchildren. Jolie and Jeslyn never met Dad, and probably won't remember much of "Grandma GG". But she lived long enough to have moments of joy with them, and I'll always remember 2-year-old Jeslyn helping to feed Mom her eggs when we visited her at the center.

Though I didn't spend much time with her the last couple of years, I'm thankful my sister found Sierra View home in Reedley. If a loved one has to be put into assisted living, I can think of no place better than this one. They all obviously loved my Mom, even when most of her time was spent being cranky! The nurse that called this morning was personally upset, and she said she had been working there when Mom was admitted many years ago.

Jen just called and I broke the news to her, so the hardest part is over. She could tell I was having a hard time, but her "I love you, Daddy," was just what I needed to get through that phone call.

So, a new life for Mom, and a release for me that hasn't quite come yet, but I know that it will. Now with what time I have left I want to continue to be the man that they taught me to be. They loved me, they loved Jan, they loved my kids, and the best part is that I will see them again.

As An Athlete, Getting Old

I suppose if it were possible to determine such a number, I would be in the upper 25% of men my age as it relates to physical fitness and health. I can still bowl in the 190s rather consistently, can shoot low 90s and occasionally high 80s in golf. My life has pretty much centered around athletics, specifically baseball and basketball, since I was 9 years old. However, at age 61 I am no longer able to do the things I used to do, partly because of deteriorating skills and partly because of limited opportunities. And I find I'm not going gently into that part of my life.

Part of my current problem is due to the fact that I was a pretty good athlete at one time. Baseball paid for a large part of my education, and I enjoyed quite a bit of success. I was able to play competitive fast pitch softball into my 40s, and had a string of about 4 years where I never took a swing and missed the pitch entirely. Haven't swung at a pitch competitively in almost 20 years, but I doubt I could continue that streak at that point. James Michener, in his work "Sports in America," written in the late 70s, devotes a chapter to the athlete past his prime. Some psychologists have noted a trend that boys who are successful athletes in their early years tend to never grow past adolescence--at least socially. There is a great movie with that theme, "Everybody's All American," starring Dennis Quaid, where he is a football player, Heisman trophy winner, who plays well past his prime because he still revels in the glory years. He and his best friend, played by John Goodman, get together at bars and still talk about their Glory Days. I have friends who still talk about specific high school contests whenever we meet for reunions. I'm kind of dealing with that now, because those outlets are no longer available to me. When it comes to physical activity, the greatest joy in my life is still throwing a baseball. The ending scene of Field of Dreams still gets to me, when Kevin Costner gets to play catch with his Dad. I used to be a pretty good outside shooter with a basketball, yet now if I make 2 out of 10 it's a good day. For a long time I was about to vicariously experience the thrill of athletic competition through coaching, and I enjoyed more than my share of success at that. But that fire eventually went out, and I am faced with replacing those joys for the rest of my life.
Which brings us to the main outlet available to me these days--running/walking. Even when I was a good athlete, I hated those things!! Now I try to get out and walk/jog nearly every day, because my sedentary life has also added to my waistline. I played at under 140 pounds in college, and these days I fight to stay under 190. And in addition to not enjoying running, I don't have the gifts for it. I have friends in church who ran their first 5k today, and finished together as a family in 34 minutes. When I was running regularly about 10 years ago, I don't think I could have broken 30 minutes. And, because I'm so competitive, if I can't be good at something, I don't want to do it--that's the adolescent in me, I think. I truly enjoyed competing at a high level, but I also enjoyed talking about it. And I know it's healthy for me to exercise, but that's not why I do it. I do it in hopes of hearing someone say, "Man, you looking goooooooooood!"
I know there is a "runner's high" that serious runners achieve and can't do without. I don't ever expect to experience that high!! But I probably know what it feels like--kind of like when I hit a 2-run single for a walkoff win against LaVerne in college. Or being the only pitcher in the nation to shut out Grand Canyon College in 1970. Or my girls basketball team overcoming a 10-point deficit in the 4th quarter against Ventura to reach the CIF finals in 1992. See, there's that adolescent glory thing again--the one redeeming factor in this is that if you are among my new friends at FCC that's probably the first you've ever heard of those achievements.
So I'm not so much worried about living in the past as much as I am worried about how to continue to try to fill that void in the future. Coaching high school kids isn't much fun any more--they either don't care enough or they think they know more than I do. I don't think I have the patience to coach the little ones. I don't have high school baseball teams knocking down my door to pitch batting practice to them--and I'd probably have to do it from 40 feet instead of 60.
I don't do tennis, weights, ski on any surface. I suppose it would be easier if I found someone else in the same situation and we could be miserable together!!

A Night at the Ballet--again

Went to the girls annual year-end ballet recital last Saturday and Sunday, so I thought I would share my annual thoughts with you. As the girls get older, they get a little more involved, which makes it easier for this dance-challenged grampa to get through the evening. This year Jeslyn had 3 different dances, tho 2 of them were on Saturday afternoon before the performance I attended. Jolie actually had one of the leading parts. The theme for the evening was “Night at the Museum,” and she was one of the 3 who simulated dancing through the various exhibits at the museum as a bridge between dance numbers.

The Saturday performances were primarily group numbers, and it started with one called Modern Girls. I found nothing to ridicule in this number.

Next was little ones called “Little Romans.” The little ones have a demonstrator and they are to mimic the demonstrator, which helps them remember their routines. This number could probably have been renamed “Little Romans Around the Rosey.”

Then there was “Walk Like an Egyptian,” which made me realize how much I had underestimated the dance skills of Steve Martin, though Jolie and friends did the head-bob very well when they were done.

Then there was “Women of Sparta,” and things began to spice up a little. I kind of expected them to ask for John the Baptist’s head on a platter after their number.

That whole set, by the way, was grouped under the heading “Museum of Ancient Times.” The next set was grouped as “Museum of Natural History.”

The first number was “Jungle Animals” which consisted of about a dozen girls in leopard costumes dancing to Guns 'n' Roses', “Welcome to the Jungle.” The music was great.

Next came Jeslyn’s number. She was dressed as a mermaid for the number “Under the Sea.” I’ve always enjoyed fish doing the bunny hop. There was also a time where Jeslyn was channeling her Uncle Tim, as some of the girls in her group were a little lazy on their spacing. Jeslyn thought that to be egregious enough to stop point out to each girl where they should be dancing, while continuing to dance herself. I must say she pulled it off quite well while managing to ensure that everyone in the audience knew who was really in charge. (We have movies of Tim in church plays mouthing everyone’s lines in addition to his own).

Next was a song called “3 little fishes”—although all 9 of them looked little. They had fish hats and tried to make fish lips. This was also one with a demonstrator, and had the added feature of one little fish who considered herself an echo—her movements were about two measures behind everyone else, as if to say, “if you missed it the first time…”

Then came Jolie’s dance, and again grampa was not quite ready for this. The number was DINO, and my 10-year-old princess came out in a very grownup outfit and performed a very grownup routine that would have made many high school cheer/dance advisors proud. She was on-beat, shaking things I wasn’t ready for her to shake, and loving every minute of it.

There was then 5 toddlers with their parents, “performing” a number called “We are the dinosaurs.” Very cute. Our friend Chelsea did much the same with her daughter Evie last year.

Then the advanced dancers did a number called “Museum Painting” and while dance lovers I’m sure were thrilled, it was formal enough to help me remember why these programs are not at the top of my excitement list.

The “Museum of Modern Music” section included 3 dances that I liked very much. The music was The King’s “Jailhouse Rock,” Billy Joel’s “Still Rock and Roll,” and something called “Smooth Criminal’” which, if it wasn’t Michael Jackson, it should have been. There are only about 3 boys in the program, and two of them were in the Elvis number. I hope if they ever are incarcerated, they wear different uniforms. I just think the ones covered with glitter are going to get them all kinds of unwelcome attention. It was during this segment that I began to notice something I hadn’t paid attention enough to notice before. While everyone in the program could be correctly called a dancer, there are a few that are elevated enough to be called “performers”. It’s not enough for them to remember the dance moves, they are able to express the joy they feel in being in front of the crowd. There was one girl in the MJ number that I fully expected to break out her moonwalk before the number was over.

There was then a number called “Unstoppable,” where we went back to Tutus, and was rather formal, though the choreography reminded me of a Jets-Sharks dance from West Side Story.

Then there was a dance to something that has a formal name I’m sure, but someone of my age and musical taste thinks of it only as Allen Sherman’s, “Hello Muddah, Hello Faddah.” They never got to the “take me home” part, though.

There was a finishing segment that was more formal again, the motif being Monet paintings. Again, I was able to distinguish dancers from performers.

The last demonstrator number was called “flowers” about 10 little girls, one of whom did absolutely nothing. She played with her fingers, she played with her dress. When it was time to go, she was still on stage right when everyone was exiting stage left. Finally the demonstrator came to get her, led her over to the dad who was playing Monet, and the little one performed the most perfect curtsy one could imagine. So, rather than being a misfit, she was obviously a specialist!!

Then one of the dance academy graduates performed the only solo of the night, called “Dying Swan,” which of course we all know was originally created in 1905 by Michel Fokine for Anna Pavlova. Again, with my expertise, the number could have been called, “Stand on your tiptoes for 3 minutes.”

So, at the risk of losing my man card, I can say I kind of enjoyed this year’s recital, and not just when my grandgirls were dancing. I have a greater level of appreciation and expertise than when they first began dancing (a lesser level would have been impossible!!) So, I think I could now make an informed vote on who should win Dancing With The Stars. If I watched it. Like that’s going to happen.

Best Father's Day Ever

There are so many ways to end the sentence, "When I get to Heaven...." Well, I've added another: When I get to Heaven, if watching videos of my life is an option, today will be one I watch over and over.

My children both still like to spend time with me, so we were planning on lunch today. As usual, the "where" was a big discussion, and we finally settled on Joe's Crab Shack in Newport. I didn't have much input in that, and that's OK, because I knew I would be with the whole family. We might not have as many "family traditions" as some families, but whenever possible we get together to eat and celebrate the milestone days. One Father's Day tradition that we had for a few years was that Jen would take, first Jolie and then both girls, to have pictures taken, and then she would use one of the prints to get me a Father's Day tie tesselated with the picture of the girls. I think I have six or seven of those. I was disappointed when that little tradition stopped, partly because annual sittings for the girls stopped happening, plus I think the place that did them went out of business. But I was looking forward to the lunch and observing my children interact with each other and my grandchildren.

The day started, as many do, with a facebook posting, and mine for the day was "blessed to have two children who celebrate their Dad pretty much all year long." Got a couple of affirming comments from a couple of my "other" girls who are a big part of my life, tho far away geographically. (North Carolina and Bakersfield).

Sunday School has become a real highlight and we had an enjoyable time affirming each other and discussing Bob's 60-mile walk yesterday (see the link on my FB page if you haven't already done so).

Met the kids for lunch, had an enjoyable time watching them and watching the wide variety of boats enjoying Newport (or Balboa) Bay while we were eating. When we were done, Jen set a gift bag in front of me, and I could see a couple of cards. This has also become a tradition, one card from Jen and Jeff and one from the girls.

I opened the one addressed to "Grandpa Rick" first-- they were going to see Grandpa Chuck and Grandpa Woody later. Here's what the card said: "Grandpa, if the wishing star offered to give us either a million dollars or the greatest grandpa in the world, we'd take the million dollars...pause...'cause we've already got the greatest grandpa in the world." Jeslyn added, "I love you grandpa Rick. You are the best grandpa ever." So what if it was redundant, one can't hear that too much! Jolie, now 10, wrote, "I love ya, gramps. You're awesome. Happy Father's Day. Jolie". Now that was cool on so many levels. I don't think she's ever called me gramps, or spelled "you" as "ya". Just reminding me we're both getting older. Note also that she said "you're" instead of "your". This puts her ahead of about 75% of high school America in proper grammar usage. Then of course there is also the recognition that her grampa is awesome.

Then came the one addressed to Dad. "Dad, every year you say something like, 'Oh, I don't want anything for Father's Day,' or "don't go spending any money on me.' Well, I just have one thing to say.....no problem. (by the way, could you reimburse me for this card? Also, the card shop was next to a shoe store, so I'll need a little extra.) Happy Father's Day from your daughter." Then Jen added, "A little funny this year, but the real message is you're always there for us and we love you, Jeff and Jen." Note first of all, again the correct use of the words "your" and "you're". I learned her good!! She managed to say with humor the message she sends me often--she can count on me. For this Dad, nothing greater in the world can be said to me.

I then noticed there was something still in the bag---and teared up when I saw a tie with the current edition of Jolie and Jeslyn's faces on it. No matter that I very rarely have occasion to wear a tie any more. No matter that I see the girls almost every day. What matters is that this was my daughter acknowledging that special bond that she and I share, and that making her daddy happy is still important to her after all these years. And this she has done. Again. We have to attend at least one formal dinner on our cruise in August, and part of my wardrobe for the evening has been established.

I've left out Tim and Anne so far, but they are a big part of my life and were a big part of my day. Again, it doesn't matter that I only saw them yesterday--I went out there for lunch and to patch some drywall for them. But they wanted to be there for the traditional lunch today, and I looked forward to their being there. So much of Tim's life is his love for movies, and we have shared many a special occasion together in the theatre. So off the 4 of us went to see Toy Story 3--Jen and the girls had seen it Friday. What a wonderful "dessert" for the feast day that was Father's Day for me. Jen called it a perfect movie on Friday, and I couldn't agree more. It really isn't a children's movie in the sense that children can't see beyond the plot to the core values that are preached in the movie--loyalty, family, friendship, and so many others. So, as my daughter's tie gift brought me to tears, so did this movie that I attended with my son and surrogate daughter. One of the added traditions and joys we have is the ritual of "debriefing" after watching a movie together. This time, there were not many critical comments from any of us (unlike the last Indiana Jones!) and I was left to marvel at the depth of my son's knowledge of roles, characters, background, etc, that is the result of his lifelong love for the movies.

So today was another, "Why me, Lord?" day. Why am I blessed with such great friends, a great wife, great kids and grandkids, and life experiences? Don't have an answer, but it's a great ride.