Kinsler's Corner

Oh, Happy Days!

It’s been five years since Larry died, and I began a new life of living alone, with my two dogs, in a house filled with acquisitions, large and small, and lots of family memories. I am not a hoarder, but it’s amazing just how much we accumulated over our more than 40 years together.

A year later Mom died. I had to consolidate the material possessions of our two homes, into one. It took a year for me to move into “Mom’s” house, trying to make it my own. I added two new air-conditioners, 2 new roofs, front shingles, a new water softener/conditioner, and an interior and exterior paint job, among other enhancements. Still, I referred to this house as “my mom’s.” Once settled in, I was proud, happy and content living here, and was going to “forever.” That was until 2 weeks ago.

Everyone knows, and expects, that Las Vegas will be hot in the summer. With temperatures hitting highs of 117 °, I thought it would be a great idea to get a hot tub/spa, and fix up my patio area with some new landscaping. I’d be able to sit outside and be cool and relaxed. I’d really enjoy using it throughout the year, day and/or night. What a perfect time to add it…or so I thought.

I began looking at various spas, and actually had selected one. A representative came to inspect my patio and did some measurements. An electrician was sent to determine if my current power was adequate to support the tub. Of course, as my home was built in 1976, I was using its full electrical capacity. Additionally, I didn’t have a 220 line. So…in addition to the spa purchase and having to add a new foundation, I was also looking at having to run an additional electrical line from the curb, through the garage, and into the back patio area. Oh yes, I’d also have to add a new electrical box. It was becoming a more expensive deal than I had anticipated, and wondered whether or not it was worth it. A call to my son didn’t result in the comfort I was seeking. Instead of saying, “Bite the bullet, and just go for it,” which I think I really wanted him to say, he sent me in a completely different direction, and sent my comfortable world into a tailspin. He even added that all my new enhancements might not significantly raise the value of the house.

Just for “giggles,” instead of going to the bank to inquire about a home equity line of credit, to pay for my spa, etc., and gain tax deductions, Jeff suggested that I also see how much of a mortgage I’d qualify for. His reasoning: I’d be able to get what I want, and move closer to him and his family…something he’s wanted and pushed for, for the last five years, and I’d gain an even larger tax deduction. Yes, I understand that I’m getting older and live alone. Yes, I’m “far” from him (just 40 minutes) in case of an emergency. But, at this point, that is really something I was not entertaining. Surprise, surprise! As I am still working, I qualified for a mortgage that could satisfy us both. And so, the journey began.

Just for “giggles,” I was put in touch with a real estate agent, and quickly explained my lack of enthusiasm for buying, but interest in seeing what was available. Days of looking at a million houses, and only finding a couple I could be happy in, ended in my saying that they were still too far from Jeff. I really didn’t want to move, just for the sake of moving into a new house. If I were to move, it had to be close to Jeff, or I was staying put. And, then it happened.

A five-year-old house came on the market, just three-tenths of a mile away from Jeff’s…down two blocks and around the corner…actually, within walking distance. However, the street name, Thames View, seems a misnomer. The Thames, a river in England, has wonderful views. While the views here are good, (the mountains straight ahead, (walking distance!) and by turning your head, the Las Vegas Strip, (walking distance!), the closest thing to a river is the wash, which thankfully is dry, and can’t be build on, (walking distance!). With the west-facing patio, amazing sunsets are probable! (walking distance!) His desires, his arguments, were supported by so many selling points.

Needless to say, Jeff and Rhonda loved the house, the view, and the fact that it was within walking distance. I still wasn’t as sure. It had no spa…the reason this whole search started. Although the house, only one -story, another plus, has more square footage than my two-story, the kids’ bedrooms would be smaller. Yes, they only stay on weekends, so it really doesn’t matter. Yes, the great room, kitchen, and my bedroom have wonderful views. Yes, even I can walk to Jeff’s. But then, I didn’t like the carpet in the master bedroom…or in the kids’ rooms, for that matter. “Minor. Changeable.” I was told. The ten foot high ceilings would really make it impossible for me to change light bulbs…but then, I had Jeff doing that anyway. It would be more difficult for him, not me. Still, it had lots of potential. Their argument: “We want you here, near us!”

After viewings of several more houses, and three trips to the Thames View house, Jeff and Rhonda’s enthusiastic arguments, and appeals, were hitting me hard. Even the grands chimed in. They wanted me closer, and would say and do anything to get me to move there. We’d all be giving up an hour-and-a-half travel time to visit each other. My heart began to melt, and my senses told me that it would be a smart move. It will be a royal pain to pack and move again. But, once there, closer to my family, (walking distance!), I will be happy and secure knowing that help, if needed, is literally just around the corner.

Finally, after much discussion and soul searching, I decided to purchase the almost perfect Thames View house. Jeff was so excited when I told him. At lunch with my cousins, he was so enthusiastic when telling them about my planned move. It’s a wonderful feeling to know that they are sincere, and really want me close by. I have ten days to back out of the deal, without penalty, but doubt that I will do that. I have an inspection scheduled for tomorrow and an appraisal from the bank. Those could be deal breakers, but I doubt that I have anything to worry about. The comps for the house indicate that I’ll be paying $10,000 under the latest value. Even that’s not bad.

As each day passes, I’m getting more excited and nervous. Jeff is thrilled, and can’t wait. He’s offered his and everyone’s help. School starts in a week-and-a half. The sale should be completed around Labor Day. Then, the fun begins. Lots of unknowns, but one thing is for sure…I will be getting a hot tub/spa, and living two blocks down and around the corner from Jeff and his family, in my new 2,415 sq. ft, 3-4 bedroom, 2.5 bath house. Oh, happy days!

Update: The inspector came and checked out the house. It’s in exceptional condition. Couldn’t find one thing wrong with it. He was surprised, but happy for me. While he was there, Jeff, Jourdan and I measured the rooms. I have finally planned out Carter’s and Jourdan’s. Today, I finished the rest. Looking good on paper. I hope it looks as good in real life.

Update: 3/28/16
I owned the Thames View house in September, but it took me until two days before Christmas to make the actual move. I had the interior painted and the carpeting replaced. The movers came to Mom’s house and packed for two days. A day later, they loaded everything into two huge trucks. Upon arrival at Thames View, most of the furniture was placed in the appropriate rooms, but the boxes were another issue. If I instantly recognized the contents, they went where they belonged. However, most of the boxes, over a hundred of them, ended up in the garage. Christmas vacation was spent trying to get semi-organized. Everyone was helping, but the nightmare would not go away. It is almost four months later, and I still have not completed the job. After working vigorously for days, Rhonda, Jeff and I were able to get one car into the still packed garage. I gave away, donated and discarded so many things, but still there is much to be done. The nightmare continues, but has to be placed on hold. Surgery trumped unpacking!

Summer’s Here
As summer vacation began for family and teaching friends, my social life began to perk up. One friend, Kathy, was leaving the 113+ degree Las Vegas heat and torrential downpours, and moving to the Mississippi bayou humidity. Teri and I took her to lunch, to get her away from her final packing chores, and just to spend some time with her. We are going to miss her friendship, sense of humor and sexy, raspy voice. For me, that was the beginning of non-stop activity. My New York trip, although short and sweet, was a major highlight which brought renewed relationships with friends, family and delicious food: Friday, a diner in Queens; Saturday, Italian in the City; Sunday, Chinese in Wantagh; Monday, steamers (Pisser Clams) in Oceanside; and Drinks at the beach in Oyster Bay. I even got to visit some of the houses I lived in as a youngster, and then with Larry and Jeff. Once home again, there was lunch with Brenda, now a Texas resident, and Laura. Then the along came cousins Richard and Cheryl, now California residents, and her long-time friend Dani, from Orlando. We ate our way through 3 wonderful days together: Tuesday, Chinese at Amlee’s; Wednesday, at the M buffet, with Jeff, Rhonda, and the grands; and Thursday at the Paris, overlooking the Strip and the Bellagio fountains. Good food and a beautiful view. Today is Friday and I’m off to Dona Maria’s, a Mexican restaurant. It’s not really the food I’m looking forward to, but the company…my previous, and wonderful principal, Maria. It was truly the saddest moment in my teaching career, when she moved to California…a real life changer. I so enjoyed working with/for her. We had so much in common, and developed a wonderful, and thankfully lasting friendship. This weekend brings me back to Jeff’s, the grands, and Rhonda’s relatives from Reno. This summer’s off to a great start.

The sample below is from Lainie’s book signing in NYC. How many people can you recognize?

Jeff commissioned a painting.. A simple baseball field with 2 rainbows and a scoreboard showing the Carter’s Red Sox Championship win. He’s so proud. A day they’ll always remember. I call it “Believe!” My pay: 20 containers of yogurt. The picture is already hanging in his den and I have been paid in full…maybe. (see 5/14/15 Rainbows story below)
He’ll be paying me back for a while. He already brought me a bagel brunch and corned beef hash. He went upstairs to turn off the a/c, which wasn’t turned off when the kids left. He filled the dogs’ water bowls. Today I was at his house for dinner. “Why?” you ask. Well, last week I attended my friend’s daughter’s dance recital. The area surrounding the parking lot was very poorly lit. I was busy talking and looking for my car and didn’t see a speed bump that had lost its highlighting paint years ago. I tripped and flipped over like a penguin tired of waddling and deciding to slide. I hit my hand, broke a nail, cut my knee, and bumped head, which sent my glasses flying. Two gentlemen rushed over and asked if I needed help. My knee felt so bad, I didn’t know if I could stand. Two seconds later I was up and they walked me to my car. I felt comfortable enough to drive home, and made it safely. Twenty minutes later, when I tried to get out of the car, I realized I was hurt more than I had thought. Having had broken ribs when I was 21, I knew exactly what was wrong. Didn’t feel like sitting for hours in the ER and then being told there was nothing they could do. So, I called Jeff and told him I was going to bed, but I needed checking up on. Surprise! When I saw my Dr. he said there was nothing to be done. I was told to take it easy for 6 weeks and I’d feel better. Head and hand fine. Knee getting better. Ribs…one week down, an 5 to go. Oddly, not one bruise. Hence, time to create Jeff’s painting, and the big payback.
Not being able to bend is tough. It’s especially hard getting into and out of bed. I’ve tried many techniques, but it’s still painful. Sitting/getting off chairs, and using the bathroom is also rough, but I manage. I found my mother’s grabber tool. You know, the thing that helps get things off high shelves.It used to be found in grocery stores. Well, I can use that to pick up the dogs’ food bowls, and things that are on the floor. Still, there are things I haven’t figured out yet, and must ask for help: filling the dogs’ water containers; picking up their poop; lifting groceries – more than a couple at a time; etc. Necessity may be the mother of invention. I say, “Call Jeff!”
I know I’ll be fine…in time. At this moment, patience is what I’m lacking. I’m waiting for the day I can look back at this and laugh. Right now, it hurts too much when I do.

It’s funny how emotions overcome you when you least expect it.

Back in 2012, at the second anniversary of Larry’s passing, I was at the cemetery when the sprinklers kept coming on in the different sections I visited…my mother’s and father’s, my husband’s and brother’s. Of course, I got wet and retreated to my car each time. When I was driving away, I turned and looked back at Larry’s gravesite and saw a beautiful rainbow. I knew it was his present to me. Larry and I enjoyed seeing rainbows, especially from our balcony when in Hawaii. (I wrote about this in kinslerscorner.net on 6/23/12)

Now, at Carter’s ballgame, I was thinking about how happy Larry would have been to watch him play ball. He was so involved with all of Jeff’s games, that this would also have been something special for him. The team started out strong with a 6-0 lead, then 8-1, and 8-7. Suddenly, they were behind 9-8. But, this team did not give up.

I was thinking of Larry when Carter had his last at bat, and suggesting that he give him a hand. Kinda like the “angels in the outfield” movie. Sure enough Carter drives in the go-ahead run, and the team goes on to take the lead 11-9. Then, with 2 outs and the outcome still in jeopardy, again I was hoping that Carter, in the pitching position, would make the play to first, for the final out. Unbelievably, that’s how the game ended…a perfect play. The team and crowd erupted into pandemonium. Carter’s team had just won the league’s championship game. This Bad News Bears team went from the last place team to champions, by beating the first place team. Everyone was clapping, yelling, and congratulating the jumping, fist-pumping team. Both teams congratulated each other on a well-played game. They stood on the foul lines waiting for the presentation of the trophies. First, the runners-up got theirs, and then the champions. What a proud moment!

Suddenly a couple of drops fell from the sky, and a beautiful rainbow appeared. No one noticed until I spontaneously yelled, “A rainbow,” and instantly burst into tears. Although several of the kids and their parents echoed my words, and people started looking at the sky, only Jeff noticed my tears. He looked at me in a funny, questioning way, and I just said, “That’s Larry’s rainbow.” He didn’t quite get it, but gave me a hug anyway. The rainbow turned into a double rainbow. Larry was there watching! He gave me another rainbow, our special sign.

What a wonderful day! I couldn’t ask for anything more.

While shopping online for holiday presents, I found an offer for a 35mm slide reader that would create digital images. “Hmm,” said I. Having boxes of 35mm slides, I decided it was time to buy myself a present. Lo and behold, the converter arrived, and I found out that it also converted negatives into digital images, and quite easily I must admit. So I set out to “find” the slides I wanted to use for a project I had in mind. As often is the case, especially with me, I didn’t find them, but I did find slides and negatives of the Upstate House, in Canaan, NY. Ah, so many happy times and wonderful memories. Jeff and I often talk about how sad it is that Mom had to sell it, as we’d love to create new memories there. Thus, a new project was born, to keep its “spirit” alive.The new owners have changed the outside and the garage, but in my heart and mind it remains as I last saw it. It’s hard to believe that construction began almost 50 years ago.It seems like yesterday. Ah, yes, I remember it well. I hope you will enjoy seeing it again, and reliving memories of visits there.

Better, many more interesting views, and a good song

And so, my dear friends, Jourdan and I are back from a fantastic vacation in DC. We left temperatures of 117, 115, etc., and stayed with my cousins, Lainie and Ron, in the lush, green, Arlington area. Temperatures there were only in the 80s and lower 90s…but that was the humidity as well… a drastic change when walking and sight seeing, but wonderful when sitting and relaxing. Their hospitality rated an A+, as we were greeted with hugs, kisses, our favorite foods, and books, magazines and even chocolates on our pillows. Who could ask for anything more? Ah, the delight of having squirrels, cardinals, chipmunks, chickadees, and other non-western animals to watch, while eating breakfast and dinner. While the adults shared photos, videos and family stories, Jourdan spent her evenings quietly painting and decorating rocks she’d collected during the day. They became her presents to everyone.

Our DC explorations began with a July 4th tour of Arlington National Cemetery, so full of history, and the Changing of the Guard. Thanks to Sen. Harry Reid, we had a 1:2 tour of the Capitol and saw many things otherwise not available on the public tour. We took a Duck Tour, which rode around DC and into the Potomac. We went into Ford’s Theater, had an amazing audio tour, followed by a Park Ranger giving an explanation of Lincoln’s assassination that was spellbinding. Lines were long and in the sun, so we never made it into the Peterson House, or the Smithsonians…a reason to come back, as if we needed one. We made it to the awesome Viet Nam Wall, and the Jefferson and Lincoln Memorials. Jourdan found the elevators, so we were spared climbing the million, or so it seemed from the bottom, steps leading to the top chambers. We saw the White House, and the Washington Monument, still behind scaffolding, both of which, at this time, are not permitting tours.

We rode on the Metro and visited our second and third cousins for the first time, although it seemed we knew each other forever. It was then I felt super old, or just looked like I was going to pass out. After telling Jourdan to sit on the last available spot, two different gentlemen rose simultaneously and offered me their seats. Chivalry is not dead, or I looked like I was close to it. I didn’t question their reasons, didn’t care, and gladly took the seat next to her. Heat, humidity and walking all day had taken its toll.

We had a fantastic time, with fantastic people. I wish we lived closer and could do more together. I missed them immediately upon leaving. But, then came a scene straight from the movies. We landed and were heading to the baggage claim area, when Carter spotted Jourdan. He called her. She called him. They ran toward each other and hugged so tightly a fly couldn’t have gotten between them. And then, as only a brother could do, Carter asked, “Where is my present? Where is my rock?” He had to be satisfied with a DC hat, for the rock was at the bottom of the yet unclaimed suitcase.

Finally home, we went to dinner. Jourdan who was initially shy in Arlington, was non-stoppable. She was telling about everything she had seen, heard, felt and done. She knew verbatim, the stories the tour guides told to explain river widths, building heights, monuments, etc. She’s an absolute sponge, absorbing much more than I had thought she did. Of course, she told Carter that he’d have to wait until he was at least 8 years old to be able to do this trip. Her reasoning: “There’s so much walking. You’d be too tired to enjoy it, and would want to go home.” She further stated, “She was too hot and tired to get out of the car to get a closer view of the White House, since there was no tour anyway,” but added, “I will do it next time.”

And so, my dear friends, we are back in Las Vegas and Jourdan is convinced there will be a next time, as there is so much we didn’t see. It will have to be when Carter is 8. However, she thinks it would be better to go in the spring. I must admit, I agree with that. The journey is over, but the memories will last a lifetime.

Many thanks to Lainie and Ron, my cousins, my friends!

My Dearest Jeff, Happiness is learning that after more than 30 years, you remembered this song, with our connection to it, and played it on one of the most important days of your life. I have known no greater happiness, except for the day you were born. It’s not possible to love you more or be prouder of you. I wish you, your bride and family the happiness I feel today, every day of your lives. Who’da thunk an accidental fall, before you were two, would have me in tears so many years later. You got me! and I loved it! Happiness is having you for my son!

Dance Reflections

I was sleeping soundly when Lionel Richie’s song “It’s not easy to say Good-bye” began playing, right in the middle of my dream. It was loud enough to awaken me. I looked at the clock. It was 4:30 in the morning. “What is going on? Why am I hearing that song?” My foggy brain was trying to sort things out when I suddenly heard, “Ooo-sin, Ooo-sin!” And then my reply of “Woy-vee, Woy-vee,” the names we called each other when we were young.

Visions flashed before me. I was thousands of miles away, at 2280 Grand Avenue, in the Bronx, New York, to be exact. As clear as could be, I saw a shiny brass banister along side a long marble staircase, at the top of which was Irv’s one bedroom apartment. I lived at the bottom of that staircase, just to the right, with my mother and grandparents. We spent all of our time together, Irv and I. We napped together, bathed together, rode in the same stroller together. We were inseparable. His dad, my Unka Harry, was my first dad, as WWII was raging and my dad was away in the Navy. After the war ended and my dad returned, the twins, Martha, and George arrived. Living quarters were tight, to say the least. My family moved to the Grand Concourse, several miles away. Irv’s family switched apartments with my grandparents. That was the beginning of our wonderful Saturday adventures together.

We were six years old, Irv and I, when we started our Saturday morning trips into Manhattan. We’d leave early in the morning, a bagged lunch in hand, and take the subway to the Museum of Natural History. He’d get onto the train at the 183rd Street station and stand in the first car’s window. I’d get onto the train, if I saw him in the window as the train pulled into my 161st Street station. We had no cell phones. We’d switch trains at 125th Street and go directly to the museum, our favorite. We’d purchase Trail Guides, self-tour books about the various exhibits, and fill in the missing information. We loved the dinosaurs and the big, blue whale. We’d go to the Hayden Planetarium, watch the planets move and enjoy the shows and movies about scientists like Marie Curie, and Louis Pasteur. We’d eat lunch in Central Park, and roam around the City until it was time to head back home. We loved Saturdays. As we grew older and more adventurous, we discovered many of the other museums and places of interest. What a wonderful world we lived in. One of my biggest thrills was trying to recreate our experiences by taking my son, Jeff, to the Museum of Natural History, and exploring it with him. We used one of my Trail Guides that I had saved, and still have.

Public transportation and walking was our normal means of getting places until Uncle Harry bought the first car, an Oldsmobile, when we were about 2. That’s when we discovered the “great outdoors.” We drove to Bear Mountain and saw forests, deer, and “the lake.” Even as the families grew, like the circus clowns, we’d all pile into that car, 4 adults and the 6 kids, and go to Lake Tiorati, for swimming, bar-b-quing, toasting marshmallows, hiking, etc. We’d always compete to see who could find the most firewood, see the first deer or chipmunks, swim to the dock first, etc. What wonderful childhood memories!

When we were about 10, we all moved to Queens. Again, we lived next door to each other. Irv’s family of 6, and mine of 4, plus my grandparents. This time, he lived downstairs and I lived up. Once again, we were close. No telephones needed. We just yelled out the windows. We all grew up together, sharing everything…including the bathrooms. There were 12 people and only 2 bathrooms. We fought over things like Grandma’s strudel, knishes, and cookies. We played and went to school together. The holiday dinners were fun. Lake Tiorati was still a favorite destination.

In the mid 1960s, Irv left to go to school in Michigan. He never moved back, and returned only for occasional holiday visits. We were separated by greater distances than we had ever known, yet our closeness remained intact. We kept in touch. We wrote, phoned and later emailed and Skyped. We were always there for each other. At one point, we were both going through cancer treatments at the same time. We shared our fears, and feelings, along with drug and treatment information, etc. He came and stayed with me when my brother, George, and husband, Larry, died. He was too sick to come when my mom died. I understood. Because he lived in Canada, and I had no “legal” birth certificate and therefore couldn’t get a passport, I couldn’t be with him in his greatest time of need. I called often. We spoke, oh, so briefly. I told him I missed and loved him. I apologized. He understood. Although the physical miles had kept us apart, the bond, the mental/emotional closeness was oh, so strong. There will be no more emails or phone calls. My tears seem endless, as my heart is absolutely broken. His long, hard-fought battle is over, and in a sense, that is good. I pray for Ruth and Aaron, along with the rest of his family, as theirs has just begun.

I’m brought back to the Lionel Richie song. Yes, it’s not easy to say good-bye, Cuz. You know you were loved and will be missed by your friends, family and me. Hugs and kisses to all you meet on your new adventure. Until we meet again, Rest in peace, “Woy-vee.”

After I finished writing this, I decided to call Ruth. I thought that maybe she hadn’t called me because of the early hour. I was told that Irv had a rough night, but that now he was medicated, calm and peacefully sleeping. It’s just a matter of time. I was surprised, as I was so sure he had already passed, but maybe I just felt his agitation, and his reaching out. Stranger things have happened. Irv died early the next day. The phone call came at 3:30 AM, my time. I was not surprised, just so saddened. My heart aches, but I am thankful for all the wonderful memories and love we shared.

Today is Jeff and Mom’s birthday…albeit many years apart. It is the first time there won’t be a shared cake – half pink icing, half blue and 2 candles. On second thought, that may be a tradition we should continue. I feel sad that she won’t be here, physically, but know her spirit will be ever-present. Yesterday, in addition to packing and unpacking boxes, I was organizing some of her paperwork and came across this story. What incredible timing!

Birth Day
By Vi Berger

“I have something to tell you,” Sue said. “I’m pregnant.”
We had waited so long to hear this! Yet, there was something in our daughter’s face that stopped me and I waited for her to continue.’’
Holding tightly to her husband’s hand, chin trembling, tears just on the verge of dropping, she continued. “I might not be able to carry it through,” and explained the presence of a fibroid tumor which could cause complications.
My heart stopped. I couldn’t bear to see the pain and fear in my daughter’s eyes and I reached out to her. Holding her, not knowing what to say to make her or myself feel any better, I heard a long-forgotten voice. “Remember,” it said, “nothing bad ever happens in our family.”
It was my father’s voice bolstering me during the war when I feared for my husband’s safety. I held on to those words and they sustained me, giving me hope and strength to be able to face the challenges life dealt. I reminded Sue of these words and we took courage from them and were finally able to feel the joy of the coming life.
For long torturous months we watched Sue struggle to hold on to the threatened pregnancy. She took a medical leave of absence from her teaching job and though she followed her doctor’s orders meticulously, there were days she could not eat; she could not gain weight. There were days she was in severe pain. And, on a day when the city was suffering the force of a vicious blizzard, Sue hemorrhaged.
Streets were impassable. A state of emergency had been declared. Fire trucks were used to transport essential personnel – firemen, policemen, nurses, doctors, street cleaners.
Larry, Sue’s husband, bundled her into the car and fought his way through the snow-choked streets and reached the hospital. His voice, as he called for help, was muffled by the furiously falling snow, and picking Sue up in his arms, he struggled his way through the parking lot, into the hospital. She was rushed into the emergency room and the pregnancy was saved.
Time passed slowly. I worried for my daughter’s health and for the health of the baby. Twice more Sue hemorrhaged. Twice more the doctor was able to save the unborn child. Then, on July 27th, 1978, I was awakened by the insistent ringing of the phone. At 1:21 AM I sleepily I mumbled, “Hello?”
And, six weeks earlier than anticipated, “It’s a boy! The wires sang. “And, they are both fine!”
“It’s a boy!” I sang, elbowing my husband awake, “and they’re both fine!” Deliriously giggling and kissing, tears of joy and gratitude blinding us, we kept bumping into each other while we hurriedly dressed. We sped 150 miles and reached the hospital in record time.
Larry was holding Sue in his arms. Again, they told us, she’d been rushed to the hospital. But, this time, the doctor felt it both necessary and safe to deliver the baby by caesarian section. Sue was pale. They both were tired, but their eyes were glowing. We laughed, hugged, kissed, cried. The long agonizing wait was over.
“Oh, Mom – Dad. He’s so beautiful! Why don’t you go to the nursery to see him.”
We hurried down, pressed our faces against the nursery window and saw our grandson on a slant board to help his respiration. His face bluish, his little chest was heaving with the effort to breathe.
“Oh, God,” I thought. “He’s so small and vulnerable. Just 6 pounds 15 ounces. If I could only breathe for him.” We stood there for a long time watching and I remembered my father’s words and held on to them yet again.
Larry wheeled Sue down the hall, and as we stood at the window watching the baby together, I felt Sue take my hand in hers. Looking down I heard, “Happy Birthday, Grandma.” In the excitement I had completely forgotten that this was my birthday, too.
Sue never had another child. But, she gave me Jeff. I have watched a baby who was struggling for breath; grow into a bright, athletic six-footer. And, for the past 16 years, as Jeff and I have exchanged birthday greetings, I’ve known that I’d been given the best birthday gift of my life – the recurring gift of love, that will last me all my days.

Check out the cakes!