Cherry Pie and the Kids

Grumpa Joe Looks at FlowerWhat a great weekend this has been for me! Yesterday, I had the honor of being with my three children and their families. We celebrated the birthday of my namesake grandson. All of his cousins and uncles were there from my side of the family. From his dad’s side he had his one aunt and his grandparents.

Today, Peggy and I ventured out to mass at Saint Anthony’s Catholic Church. Afterward, we visited the Frankfort Farmer’s Market. She bought a fresh cherry crumble pie. We were home only an hour when Peg’s grand daughter Shannon came by. It is her birthday, she is twenty seven. Our plan was to have a party for her, but her mom had to work and her sister was out of town. Instead, we accepted an invitation to eat lunch with my daughter and her family. We haven’t done that in quite some time. They took us to the Brazilian Steak House in Tinley Park. The food was good, and the wine was even better. Afterward we adjourned to our house for cherry pie and ice cream. Peg and I are so stuffed, we can’t move.

Later in the evening, son Mike came over with his three kids. We sat and chatted for over two hours. Its even more fun when the children are old enough to participate in the adult conversation. I showed Danny my cukaracha shirt. He wasn’t impressed, he still likes his shirt better.

Kids, I love you and cherish every moment we spend together.

This afternoon, Peggy called her son to wish him a happy father’s day. She reached him in a car on Interstate 65, eighty miles south of Indianapolis. He is on his way home from vintage drag races in Bowling Green, Kentucky. I spoke with Larry and got a first hand account of the day at the races.

It rained this afternoon, and that kept us in the house. Tonight, our Concerts on the Green begin with a SInatra Impersonator.  If it is not rained out, the program should be very good.

How much more could a father-grandfather ask for? I’m not sure my  heart can take any more excitement.

The Funk Rules Negative People

Grumpa Joe Looks at FlowerWow! It seems like forever since I last posted. So much has transpired. The baby steps have been ticking off faster and faster. In spite of all the positive activity toward my goals I have been stricken with a slight case of depression. My self-esteem is low, and that always is the result of depression. Some little thing triggered me into a funk. The funk is over, I’ve survived and now it’s time to BLOG again. How did I get myself out of the funk? Well first there is work. Good hard physical work. Thank God, I can still do physical work. That meant taking many baby steps in the garden. In the past week I planted about forty perennials around the pond. I added annuals, and planted seed too. All of it is doing fine except for the few plants that the rabbits are bothering. Two of my most expensive perennials being native hibiscus are being munched on by the rabbits. They gave up on the rose of sharon, and are now on tastier plants. If you are old enough to remember Elmer Fudd, and his ongoing battle with Bugs Bunny, you will understand how I must proceed with the critters. Unfortunately, my dear Peggy is an animal lover, and she will prevent me from openly taking a shot at the furry creatures. I’m a poor shot anyway.

A friend stopped by last week and deposited ten good size goldfish into the pond. We can now see fish from our kitchen window, whereas before, the little guys were invisible. Everyday, Peggy and I throw a handful of fish pellets into the water to feed them. I want to train the fish to come to us when we approach the edge of the water.

Another powerful tool for getting ot of the funk is to pray. I pray every night before retiring. I coax my sub-conscious into bringing me only good health, great stories, and abundance. Included is a request to help a bunch of people who need it. In the morning, when I walk, it is  another opportunity to pray and speak to God. I can’t walk without praying. It’s a habit I developed over the last seven years.

Slowly, ever so slowly, the endorphins begin to kick in and the funk begins to disappear.

Today, I wrote a letter of introduction to my new writing instructor. Yes, I signed up for writing school. Hopefully, my style will improve and I will get as good as the really fluid writers on the blogs I visit. Man are they good. I admire people who can write their thoughts clearly, concisely, and in a completely understandable way . They amaze me. How can some writers be so descriptive with their words and others like me are complete klutzes. Do you believe this, I’m writing myself into a funk just by giving someone unknown to anyone an “atta boy.”

I am not a klutzy writer, I do well. Even though others can write rings around me, I must concentrate on the positive in my life and not dwell on the negative. The negative, “or dark side,” can quickly envelop the id and predominate. We have to learn and practice being positive every moment of our lives. Being positive is much more fun than being negative. Funk rules the negative person.

Whose Nest Egg Counts?

Grumpa Joe Looks at FlowerWhile walking this morning it occurred to me that I spent a large part of my life away from my wife and family to earn a living. As many of us do, I spent more time than was necessary at work. I did earn and form a “nest egg.” My dream was to spend the autumn years of life with my lovely wife in play. We spoke of what we would do, we often expressed our dreams of what it would be like. We talked about living in the desert away from harsh winters.

Last night Peggy and I had dinner and conversation with the Ryans. Our time together was marvelous. We met at Villa Rosa in Frankfort. This little place, tucked into a strip mall, in the historic section is quiet. We can hear ourselves talk and think there. In addition, the food is great.  It was over a year since we had dinner with the Ryans, and we had a lot to catch up on. Our last dinner was in the Phoenix area in 2007. 

I walked along the trail listening to the birds and talking to Barb. While I spent all my time building the “nest egg” at the expense of missing time with her, she spent time developing friends. She had to do somethiing to fill the many hours that I was gone, she joined clubs in the neighborhood. She sang in the choir at church. She cultivated relationships. Barb always made sure that I met her new friends and I became a member of her circle. The Ryans are one of the couples I met through her activity in the garden club.

Since Barb died, it is her nest egg that I live on.  It was the time she spent developing relationships like the one we had with the Ryans, that has saved me from major despair. It is all of the people who she cultivated  as friends from the choir, the garden club, and the bowling league that have become my friends. They are the ones who have been my comfort.

Barbara never enjoyed any of the fruits of my nest egg, the one I spent so many hours away from her to build. All of her life she gave me love, and continues to show me her love with the payout from her nest egg.