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.