Happy Trails

When Jessica had her nine year old birthday in November of 2008, I was still recovering from a broken leg and using a walker. We decided that her Grandma Day would be more fun if we waited until the spring, especially because it was her desire to go horseback riding. Well, spring came and went and so did summer. It is time to start back to school already!

This year Rachel (daughter of my good friend) sweetly agreed to let Jessica go to the barn to see her horse. I was not expecting Jessica to be able to sit on Moose because Rachel’s horse is still young and in training and very special to Rachel.

Hence we were honored that Rachel not only allowed Jessica to get on the horse but also gave her a thorough first lesson on how to properly care and handle a horse.

Rachel is interested in doing therapeutic horse therapy for children with emotional needs. She has the perfect temperament—kind, patient, and calm.

It was delightful to see the sweet connection between Rachel and her horse and Jessica.

Later in the day, I had scheduled a trail ride at a different stable. Our experience there was okay. Although our 2nd guide was also named Rachel, that is where any comparison ends. She never asked our names or where we were from or any questions of us.

As I got on my horse, I asked, “Is there anything that I should know about how to hold the reins or anything else.”

Rachel the 2nd replied, “No, the horses know what to do, you don’t need to know anything.”

So we sat on horses that walked single file through a beautiful forest preserve for one hour. We did see several deer and two little fawns. A couple of times, Jessica held her horse back just a bit and then trotted to catch up. The second time she was reprimanded and so from then on, we quietly followed. There is something special though even about just sitting on a horse.

All considered, we had a good horse day! In the evening, we invited Morgan to bring her doll and horse and jammies and watch a horse movie following dinner at Chili’s and a stop at the Popcorn Store.

Then we all went to sleep full and with happy hearts. Excuse me, I meant with full and happy hearts.

Why Teens Do Not Plan the Air and Water Show

The clouds and rain came and went today but Kent and I saw a truncated version of the Chicago Air and Water Show.

I was thankful that no one crashed.

I don’t think my heart would keep beating if any of those pilots were my children.

Kent got some good videos of the action on his new birthday camera.

However, he thought the show would have been better if the pilots would shoot some birds while doing their stunts and drop a small bomb into the water in front of us.

Yay! In golf, they don’t call strikes!

Pretty much all I knew about golf I learned by watching Tiger Woods on TV and seeing the movie, The Legend of Bagger Vance. Sure I took lessons—twice. Once about ten years ago and three more lessons last summer.

Golf sounds like a good idea. I like to walk. Bob is going to retire—probably—someday —and we might like to play together. People use golf to develop friendships and build relationships. A lot of our friends like to golf. So I took a few golf lessons—ten years ago—when Bob first started talking about retirement. That was it— finito. Oh yes, I did go on two different courses—once with Ellie and Diane—and once with Dave and Nancy, but I didn’t actually golf—although I did drive the cart sometimes. Last summer, I took three more lessons with David because he wanted to learn to golf. Then I broke my leg and sent David golfing for a substitute Grandma Day with his Aunt Kathi. I figured I was done, again.

But it was not to be. This year, David asked to go golfing again—with me. I was concerned. Our friend, Rich, got hit in the head while golfing with his good friend—on his birthday—and is now losing his hearing.

I went to the driving range and consistently hit the barriers between golfers.

I woke up several times during the night in a sweat with golf nightmares. Then I pleaded with my hubby to take David on a Grandpa Day instead. I thought I could take David mini golfing and then hubby could do the real thing—but on the other hand, I wanted to use my golf equipment—that I optimistically acquired ten years ago after my first set of lessons. It really is quite nice—and shiny—clubs, fuzzy covers, towels, umbrella, tees, balls, little round markers, and a little fork like tool.

After talking nagging about this for two weeks, Hubby finally understood my dilemma and graciously agreed to go with us. I was greatly relieved but still concerned.

So on the evening before, just to build confidence, David and I went mini-golfing on two different courses.

Any bravado that I experienced the night before was quickly deflated at the driving range the morning of our outing.

Finally it was our tee time. I talked to myself and got as optimistic as possible. Actually I felt better when I saw that the golf carts had nice cup holders. I figured that was a good sign as I have a real affinity for good cup holders.

Bob had this great idea. We played a variation of something called, “Best Ball.” On the first drive off the tee, the golfer with the best ball—only took one stroke. The other two golfers had to take two strokes but picked up their ball and took it to the place of the best ball and continued from there. On one tee, I had the best ball!

So we had a great golf outing! David and I learned much about the rules and etiquette, like where to walk and stand and even where not to let your shadow cast. We did not lose our balls. No one asked us to leave the course.

Our outing was successful in every sense! Whew!

Thank you, Grandpa!

And that led to this, and this led to that . . .

Long ago before we started counting time, Mary Jane and I were good friends that loved an adventure and so did our husbands.

We spent vacations with our hubbys canoeing on the Current River—before cell phones—with no way for us to contact family or for them to contact us—taking all of our supplies with us and camping wherever we decided to stop for the evening with a scheduled pick up down the river anywhere from three to seven days after we were launched.

Sometimes we went with kids,

Sometimes we went without.

Then life happened. Mary Jane moved away, founded a school and became the principal and superintendent and got the school accredited and raised three kids with hubby Jim’s help and support. My hubby died and I became consumed with learning to walk again.

Many years later, enter grandson Steven. Grandpa and I attended a Boat and RV show at McCormick place with a few grandkids in 2008. While there, the kids all rode an ATV around a track a few times. Steven whispered to me, “Riding ATV’s would be a fun Grandma Day.”

Because I do so like that boy and because I did so want to do something that he would think was fun and special, I began a search for a place where we could rent an ATV and ride on trails. And I searched. I humbled myself and asked. And I searched. Finding nothing, Steven and I went to Six Flags over Great America for our 2008 Grandma Day.

Back to Mary Jane. Recently while breakfasting with a mutual friend, I heard that Mary Jane had retired. I recalled that the last time I saw her or spent any time with her was after my first husband died, she invited my sons and I to their farm (2 ½-3 hours away) to ride ATV’s. One of my sons actually went through a fence with one of the machines that day.

Sheepishly via email, I contacted Mary Jane and asked if Steven and I could come out for a few hours and ride the ATVs, not even knowing if they still owned any. I recognized that I was being very audacious but it was all about pleasing sweet Steven! She said, “yes!” and so we went—yesterday.



I barely recognized Mary Jane because of her beautiful white hair—but she hasn’t gained a pound. She is still a tease. She is adventuresome and has a great can do attitude plus she is funny and fun and compassionate! I still love her laugh! She talked about healthy eating but served us the largest root beer floats that I have ever seen! She is one of my few friends that still goes skinny dipping under the stars. Actually, she is just like I remembered her!

Mary Jane’s oldest grandson, Darren, is nearly the same age as Steven so we had a great foursome day! Hooray!

If Steven had not whispered, if I had not humbled myself, if Mary Jane would have ignored her email—just think how much we would have missed!

Better than a three ring circus!

Before Dan met Cindy’s parents, he wondered if they were a circus act. Peanuts, acquired his nickname because he was the smallest in his family. It lasted his entire lifetime perpetuated by his wife. She did not care for his given name of Claude which actually sounds quite good to the rest of his family.

Dolly is her given name. Dolly’s unique talent is that she can say more words per minute than an auctioneer and she never runs out of things to say. It reminds me of a word juggler that never drops a comma or space. She is amazing!

Aunt Bonnie, Mary, Cindy and I recently helped Dolly celebrate her 80th birthday. It was a delight. There was a name game, an old movie, scarves, visors, glasses, marshmallow guns, flamingo decorations and parfait glasses. There was delicious food, a pontoon ride, a campus tour, gifts, shopping and more.

I am pretty sure that Dolly has enough new talking points to last for another ten years. The next day, back at home, I asked Dolly, “What was your favorite part?”

For a few minutes, she could not decide. Dolly was speechless!

Cindy, that indicates more than words how well you blessed your mother.

Thank you. In honoring her, you blessed us all.

And besides that . . . I had a blast!

Give a Nod or Not . . . to Diverse Fans

We have gone to several baseball games with friends and are accustomed to diversity. Our dear friends, Mike and Cheri have been with us to a White Sox game. They share the same anniversary date with us but each year on their anniversary they get Cubs tickets—usually for three games—wherever the Cubs are playing—this year in Philadelphia—last year in Anaheim. Romantic, huh?
Pretty close to hard core fans.

Last year we gave tickets to a White Sox vs Yankee game at Cellular Field to Bob’s son, daughter-in-law and two sons and sadly noted their abandonment of our local team indicated by all four of them sporting Yankee jerseys given to them by Kevin’s mother-in-law. I said, “Et tu Brute!” to Bob’s son. He shrugged.
Beware, beware of this kind of fan!

Before my father’s death, my Ohio farmer Dad attended a few White Sox games with us and diplomatically clapped for both his team—the Cleveland Indians or my brother’s team—the Tigers or my hubby’s team—the White Sox.
Sweet, soft hearted, good man, who enjoyed sporting events — a soft core even when it came to baseball.

Yup, diversity. White Sox fans are present but in the minority. We are surrounded by scores of Cubs fans. My first hubby was a Cubs fan. We raised Cubs fans with no-cable-necessary-WGN both on TV and radio. We were able to attend 2-4 games each season and had lots of fun especially during the 80’s cheering for our Cubby teams. I am pleased with my sons' loyalty to the Cubs. All four of my grandkids sport their own Cubs hats and shirts.
Their daddies are pretty close to hard core fans.

I must add though, I was glad that son, Andy and his wife, Amy did go with us to a World Series game cheering the AL White Sox to victory in 2005. Andy is not a cross over by any means but he was enthusiastic for his step dad’s sake. To Amy, seeing the players’ wives and new babies was as interesting as the actual game but she clapped appropriately. She also took a look at the gift shop but imagine this, everything in there had to do with baseball.
Nope, Amy is not even close to a fan but she is a good sport.

My Beekeeper Bob hubby is a White Sox fan. He grew up going to games with his Grandpa Riechart, who lived at 119th and 34th Street on the south side of Chicago. Out here in Cubs land suburbia, hubby is a quiet fan. If he isn’t watching the game, he is aware who they are playing, how many games up or down, and who they just traded and lots more. I don’t know the language but he loves to talk it. We don’t fly flags on our house or car or use identifying bumper stickers.
I am pretty sure hubby is a hard core fan but an unusual species.

I do so want the Cubs to win a World Series . . . soon! But I do so love my hubby and find that it is natural and easy to cheer for his team, too! In fact, I can’t watch a game when they are losing. I leave the room and come and type a new post for the blog.
I prefer to think of myself as a Chicago fan.

So even though we can appreciate and love diverse ball team enthusiasts, imagine our joy to find some real as life, true White Sox fans. It happened somewhat coincidentally when hubby visited the home office/shrine of our good friend, Jim. He is a grew-up-on-the-south-side, White Sox fan! I don’t think—don’t know for sure—that he has any tattoos but still . . . it is easy to figure that Jim and wife Judy are no fair-weather, I-will-see-it-better-on-TV fans. When we invited them to a Saturday game with rain predicted and dark clouds hovering and maybe tornadoes in the city, their immediate and completely serious response was, “Should we bring you two a couple of White Sox ponchos to wear?” Weather did not even enter the equation. How many people do you know that have enough White Sox ponchos for the whole row?
Hard core!

A good great time was had by all! There was no holding back on enthusiasm for each run scored even though the White Sox led all the way. Nope, we loved every hit, every base on balls, every stolen base, every run!

In homage to our team, after the game, we walked over to see the white bronze and black granite Champions monument and the Champions Brick Plaza.

Guess who found a brick engraved with their names? I’ve no doubt about what these stones mean! Hard core fans, indeed.

We were not done celebrating yet. Jim and Bob know the city and decided that we should go get some White Sox pizza. The choice for this night was the original Home Run Inn pizza place established in 1947 before most of us were born!

I photographed the yummy, incredible salad instead of the pizza but I ate both! I have an embarrassingly soft mushy core—especially today—but I will work on it Mañana.

And I nearly forgot, we all came away with a souvenir—of sorts—a White Sox beer vendor bobble head, given to the game attendees. Yes, for real. There is a limit to my White Sox zeal! However, I am not above profiting from someone else's fanaticism. I would be glad to send them anywhere—two are available. Let the bidding begin. If you are hard core — proudly nod, nod, nod!