Pet Menu - Monroe's Cafe-Grill, Saugatuck, MI

Stressed? It Will Be Okay! (Part Three)

Now, back to the story…

Bob replied to Amy, “I’m sitting down.” Actually he was draped over the chaise lounge in our room at the Union League Club in Chicago and quite comfortable.

“You’re not going to like what I have to say,” Amy started. Savoy and its environs was experiencing what was being called the storm of the century. Somewhere between three and five inches of rain had fallen in a relatively short period of time, and sewer water (from our shower drain and a drain in the electrical storage area) was spreading throughout the basement…soaking over 1500 square feet of not very old carpet. Amy and David armed with a carpet cleaner and shop vacuum were valiantly trying to stem the tide, but it was a losing battle.

Clearly we were needed at home. We made arrangements with friends to ride back to Savoy with them after the dinner, toasts, and first dances at the wedding reception. We arrived around midnight to find Amy still doing laundry (many of their things had been on the floor downstairs), and the babies asleep in their pack and plays ensconced in Bob’s office. Bob sent out a call to ServPro, and we settled into bed. Poor Amy was relegated to a too short living room couch that night but was provided with a queen-sized blow-up mattress from then on. Let’s just say that the living conditions were not ideal for any of us in several ways. Read on.

Right before we left for the wedding, our cable service had been interrupted. Since we have a bundle package, it meant there was no phone land line (yes, we are ancient), no cable TV, and no Internet. Almost unbearable. Amy had been a trooper and called our cable provider each day trying to arrange an appointment. She’d been given promises, but no action. Bob put a call in on Sunday and was able to finally get on the schedule for Tuesday. (It makes me furious that it takes a man to resolve these things. Don’t tell me that there is equality for the sexes when women still have to suffer through this! Ah, but I digress.)

A ServPro crew arrived late Sunday. The company’s employees were working very long hours trying to provide service to many who needed help. (Our next door neighbors and our friends across the street had sewage back up, too, while others were coping with basements full of storm water.) They tore up and disposed of the carpet and padding and set up nine air movers and two large dehumidifiers. 

That was just the beginning...

Have a wonderful weekend!

A Ladies Brunch and Feminism

I'm a feminist. I've been a female for a long time now. It'd be stupid not to be on my own side.                                                                                    - Maya Angelou

The following is an email that I sent this evening to the Dean of the College of Business at the University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign.

Excuse me. I apologize for not reading the July business info e-mail earlier, but I was shocked when I read it this evening and saw the title of the August 10th event, “MBAs & Mimosas: A Ladies Brunch at HUB 51.” I thought those “ladies” events were long over. I’ve lived through years of being the spouse of a physician (when most physicians were male) and being invited to attend ”ladies events.” However, as a holder of 3 degrees from the UIUC (including an MBA), I don’t want to be addressed by the term “lady” in any business or professional situation, nor do I think those pondering an MBA should be so addressed either. This is just one example of how women do not have equality in the workplace, in universities, or in our society as a whole. How subtle you’ve been and how prejudiced.

 

Need I remind you that I filed a complaint with the Office for Civil Rights when I was denied admission to the EMBA program in the early 1980s. How sad that little has changed in the College of Business.

Christmas Cruise Reunion

Wanderlust. How it has enriched my life, not just from traveling to far away places to explore the sights, experience the culture, savor the tastes, and interact with the people, but through friendships that have evolved between those of us traveling together. This has especially been the case on our river cruises. We have kept in touch with four American couples who are quite dear to our hearts. They live from Virginia to California. It's always a joy when we're able to book new travels with them or visit them at their homes. Such was the case when two couples we met on a Christmas market cruise along the Rhine and Main joined us in Holland for a reunion.

Lunch at the New Holland Brewing Company

We ate, danced, sang, toured a little of Holland, had a few toasts with clinking glasses, visited Captain Sundae, and enjoyed each others company as much as we had five years ago. Here or there, we are friends.

"Beehive, the 60s Musical"

 

It was a stroll down memory lane last evening as we watched "Beehive, the 60s Musical." A celebration of #1 hits sung by girls groups and solo girls of the era, it included rock, pop, and soul. Dusty Springfield, Lesley Gore, The Shirelles, Janis Ian, Tina Turner, Aretha Franklin, Janis Joplin and so many others. Beside the many wig and wardrobe changes for the performers, the songs were tied to the events and pivotal moments of the 60s. I could hardly bear to watch President John F. Kennedy once again leave for that fatal trip to Dallas. I wanted to shout, "Don't go!"

The 60s began with an innocence, but by the middle of the decade, it was a time of unrest and activism - civil rights, equal rights for women, a demand for an end to the Vietnam War. (During intermission, the man next to me said that he got his MBA from the Harvard Business School, but his wife, who also wanted to attend, was not allowed. The HBS didn't enroll women until 1963, and then it was a scant eight.) The war did end, but now 50 years later, it is shocking to me how little progress has been made toward equal rights for AfroAmericans and women. Yes, it's better. It's still not good. Ah, but I digress. The end of the decade is presented as a time when women began to own their empowerment. Can you say, "R-E-S-P-E-C-T?"

Well, there I sat singing along to the Name Game and wanting to be on stage dancing the pony, jerk, and monkey, and doing a little instruction on the correct way to twist! I didn't own any high white boots when I was a teenager, but I did wear shifts in neon colors and mini skirts that probably showed a little too much. But, hey, it was the 60s! Later in that decade, it was long straight blonde hair, bell bottom jeans, a leather braided headband, and a peace armband. I'm still that peace-loving hippie at heart. Always will be.

I was only nine when the decade began and halfway through college when it ended. Without a doubt, I was refined by the fire of the 60s. It was an incredible time to grow up. It made me believe that the power of the people can change things for the better. It made me compassionate, wanting to help others with less. It made me stand up for myself as a woman. Yes, it made me exactly who I am.

(To hear a little of the musical go to: vimeo.com/79525249)

Stressed? It Will Be Okay! (Part Two)

It had been almost a year since Amy and the twins, Taylor and Tyler, had visited, and there’s a big difference between 6-month olds and 18-month olds. Now they can walk, dance, feed themselves, imitate the sounds that animals make, identify body parts, talk mostly in nouns, communicate with some sign language, and do the actions to Ten Little Monkeys Jumping on the Bed. They especially enjoy looking through their books and being read to. (The twins and Amy stayed with us for a month. Bethany was with us for a week.) But, back to the wedding.

Grandparents were invited to the wedding rehearsal held at a lovely oak grove overlooking the pond of the Japan House at the University of Illinois and to the rehearsal dinner at the Crystal Lake Boat House. Rather than having ushers, the parents and grandparents were to process to their seats before the bridesmaids and bride made their way down the aisle. David’s mother and stepfather were there, and I asked them to proceed up the aisle before us so that for once I could feel that Bob and I had been honored/recognized at one of these big family events. Bob’s ex-wife said in a threatening tone, “I’ll fight you for it.” Her husband added something in a similar tone, and the “wedding director” in her loud outdoor voice said, “Well, now we have our first brou-ha-ha.”  Bob didn’t say a word but jerked me up the aisle while I had tears rolling down my face. Such is the fate of a stepmother. It is fair to say that I was shocked and unprepared. I also couldn’t believe that I had become the drama maker. (Bob and I have always felt very close to Jeremiah and Betsy and have enjoyed every minute we’ve been with them – as we continue to do. I know they didn’t intentionally want to hurt me.) Worst of all, the drama wasn’t over.

After some appetizers, a delicious barbecue buffet greeted us at the rehearsal dinner. Bob and I were sitting at one of the tables on the patio and who should walk up with their plates but Bob’s ex and her husband. She asked if they could join us. Again, I was shocked, in disbelief, and couldn’t understand why she couldn’t just leave us alone. I started to get up and remove myself from the situation but then decided to stand my ground (a la I’m not going to take it anymore) and said, “No,” and indicated that there wasn’t really any reason for us to talk during the rest of the event. (Needless to say, there is a whole history of more than thirty years to all of this.) Without my knowledge or consent, the next day Bob apologized to them for my behavior. The rest of the drama and revisionist history was carried out behind my back. Thankfully the wedding and reception were magical, and I’m thrilled that Jeremiah and Betsy are husband and wife. They are made for each other, this couple that was King and Queen of the Uni High prom their senior year. Less than a month later (on July 12^th) we were attending another wedding in another place with a totally different type of drama.

It was hard to believe that Maggie, the oldest daughter of dear friends, was getting married - why I remember the first time I saw her just days after her birth! Cindy had generously shared wedding plans with me, and I had looked forward to this little getaway to Chicago for a long time. Indeed, it was a lovely service at a beautiful Catholic church. The bride and her mother were radiant. The father-of-the-bride proudly escorted his daughter to the altar; I didn’t see a tear. The young children, all darling of course, made it down the aisle without incident. The kiss and proclamation sealed it all.

We had several hours before the start of the reception and were relaxing in our room at the Union League Club when I turned my cell phone back on and found a text message from Amy. It said something like, “I have a little medical question. Please call.” I handed the phone to Bob. She answered and said to her dad, “Are you sitting down?”

Stressed? It Will Be Okay! (Part One)

So says the front of the SERVPRO brochure left with us July 13^th after their first of many visits. I display it in the kitchen window to continually remind me that this spring and summer of challenges – if we weren’t having bad luck, we weren’t having any luck at all – would one day be behind us. Bob claimed in an e-mail that he sent out that he was rewriting the book of Lamentations. One friend suggested she was waiting for the arrival of locusts, and another proclaimed that he was really rewriting the book of Job. I don’t think any of it has been God-ordained, but I sincerely hope this is not our new normal. It all started with our trip to Europe in April.

This had been our goal through those months of isolation after Bob’s bone marrow transplant. His doctors had said from the very beginning that Bob would be recovered enough to go on our already planned Bordeaux riverboat cruise. We’d be vacationing with Bob’s brother and his wife and two other dear couples. I’d bought us personal air purifiers to save us from our first and probably worst exposure to viruses – the dreaded airport and airplane. Our first days in Paris were fine. Then we had a couple day bus ride/tour through the Loire Valley to Bordeaux and our riverboat. On that final bus day a man two seats behind us coughed and coughed. Bob immediately said, “I bet I’m nailed.” He was correct. At his birthday dinner that evening he hardly had a voice. He got sicker and sicker, rarely left the cabin, and didn't go on any tours. He did try to periodically eat lunch al fresco with the group and attend dinner, sitting at the end of the table and leaving before we had coffee. He was so sick that I rarely left his side. Then I caught it.

We had signed up for a post-cruise extension in Paris with some of the group, and it was then that I succumbed. I was not happy. The next day we got antibiotics and were just well enough to wander around Paris during the afternoons for another nine days. More than three weeks later from our April

1^st departure, we were back in our own bed with more antibiotics. Finally it was May, and I was able to garden. It was also time to head to Holland.

Bob had not wanted to spend his winter recovering in Holland, so we hadn’t been to the condo at all in 2014 until mid-May. It was wonderful to be back at our “happy place,” as Bob’s oldest daughter calls it, until I fell over a heavy wooden crate in the middle of the night. I injured the top of my foot; it had a huge lump and was purple and swollen. The doctor at convenient care x-rayed it, said it wasn’t broken, and predicted that it would take six weeks to heal. (He was right, although it continues to swell and be sore to the touch.) Hobbled or not, too soon we needed to return to Savoy to get ready for Amy’s and the twins arrival from Las Vegas and Bethany’s arrival from Vermont. Grandson Jeremiah was getting married to the smart, talented, and pretty Betsy.

The evolution of the hair - Part 2

April 2014
Bob at a sidewalk cafe in Paris - across from the Jardin du Luxembourg

The Evolution of the Hair - Part 1

November 2013



February 2014

The Very Good, the Better, and the Best

We are doing fine, we just have not been doing much.

Bob has recovered from the bone marrow transplant, and his blood tests are in the normal range. His physician declared that he had a "very good, partial remission." He's just starting his long-term, low-dose chemotherapy which includes a pill per day, one 20-minute infusion each month, and monthly blood tests. He’s received a few immunizations (like tetanus and flu) but can't start his "baby" shots (measles, mumps, etc.) for over another year. But wait…

The better news is that Bob’s handsome white hair has returned – but now it’s curly. Thank goodness he likes it! He received his first professional haircut since the transplant last week. But wait…

The best news is that his neuropathy is abating and is fairly confined to the bottoms of his forefeet. He hasn't taken pain pills for the last several weeks.

So many prayers answered.