Family Badminton
the girl
Helping
The Boy likes to help, so much so that it sometimes can get in the way. But often it is really sweet how he pitches in. Tonight, for example, he insisted on getting Papa’s evening water prepared, thickened with some magical mystery white powder that turns water into a pudding-like goop that’s easier for Papa to swallow and less risky as well. In the meantime, K was preparping Papa’s dinner: warm blueberry cobbler and ice cream. Soft, easy to chew, tasty — a perfect dinner.
E then excitedly asked if he could help Papa eat.
“Of course,” we said. “Just make sure you go slowly: it’s difficult for him to swallow at times.” And so he stood patiently by Papa’s bed and helped him eat.
Nothing brings Papa back more completely than his grandchildren. Sometimes, when I walk in and greet him, I get no response. He’s off somewhere, seeing something, hearing something — but not there. Then E can walk in right behind me and say, “Hey, Papa,” and he perks right up: “Hey, little buddy.”
Once Papa is ready for his night’s sleep, I headed out to walk the dog while the Boy and K played cards. Last night, it was chess with me.
And L? She’s fourteen — just a little too cool to spend too much time with the family. Plus, she was at work today: she needed some down time.
Consolation
When Papa was in his late thirties or early forties (I can’t really remember), we had a family membership at the local YMCA, and he liked to play basketball. He didn’t like playing with men his age — too slow. He played with the twenty- and twenty-one-year-olds. It was hard and aggressive, and while I can’t really remember how good Papa was at basketball, I do remember how tenacious he was, how he never gave up.
One time he was breaking for the basket, forcing his way through a couple of defenders, when he leaped, shot, landed on his ankle at an angle, and fell in agony with a snap that everyone heard.
As Papa lay there on the floor, rolling about in agony, one of the other players leaned into the group huddled about him and said, “If it’s any consolation to you, sir, you made the basket.”
Tonight, L made a block that won the point but resulted in an ankle injury. A young lady on her team told her, “But L, you won the point.”
The Other Sister
Papa grew up with six siblings: four sisters and two brothers. The first sibling to go was his youngest brother, who was killed in Vietnam in 1972. I’m named after him but never met him. It was about thirteen years before the next sibling passed, Papa’s older brother, who had cancer and died in the mid-eighties. And then there three and a half decades before another sibling passed, followed by another sibling just a year or two later.
And so now there are three of them: a younger sister, Aunt D, who visited Sunday, and the first-born of the entire group of seven, who visited today. Aunt Y doesn’t get out much, and the last time she was at our house was for Papa’s birthday, probably close to a decade ago. We all used to meet at Aunt D’s house for Thanksgiving, but the last time we did that must have been five or more years ago. The last time all three of them were together was at Nana’s funeral. What a sad thought that that might indeed be the last time the three surviving siblings are together. But I guess that’s the nature of reunions as we all get older.
Cards
Training Clover
to be outside the fence and off-leash. The Girl’s idea.
Afternoon Game
Cards
In the morning,
and in the afternoon.
First Check
The Girl recently began working at Culver’s, which is a restaurant we’ve passed on a busy road a number of times but which we’ve never given a thought to. We really didn’t even know the type of food they serve. So we were in the dark as much as the Girl.
She’s worked a few short shifts now, and today, she picked up an extra shift through the app the company uses for scheduling employees. Workers can request coverage for unexpected time they want off, and others can pick up that coverage for extra hours. So she went in to work from 4:00 to 8:30 today.
Today, she got her first check.
First Friday
The first Friday of this July — we began with a trip to the local pharmacy to get L’s second dose of the covid vaccine. We picked up a couple of suckers while we waited, returning home to find K and E playing Wojna in the kitchen. The Boy won.
In the afternoon, we went to the pool, which to our surprise was completely empty. When we went to Nana’s and Papa’s condo complex’s pool, this was often the case. The pool we joined this year, though, has been crowded every single time we went — except today.
The Girl originally went with the intention of just reading, so she didn’t take her swimsuit. Then she changed her mind. A fourteen-year-old can just tie a knot in her shirt and dive in.
After swimming, the Girl lost the call for shotgun. The Boy has only been able to ride in the front for a little while, and he’s still more comfortable in the back due to habit. But calling shotgun — what’s not to love about that?
Myrtle Beach 4
Back at home, I finally got a chance to download images from the X100. I used my phone for most pictures (even though I always insisted I would never do that), but a few times I pulled out the little digital rangefinder.
Myrtle Beach 3
Myrtle Beach 2
When we woke up this morning, it was raining. It’s bad enough that it’s raining when you’re at the beach; it’s even worse when you’re at the beach saying in what the children have come to call a “crusty hotel.”I suppose that’s What you get when you try to save a little money. Because even if you save money one way you’re going to pay for another. Still there is a right side to staying in this crusty hotel: it makes us stay away from it.
So in the morning we head to an aquarium.
In the afternoon when it clears up, we go to the beach. And in the evening, the SkyWheel.
Fresh
The Girl’s first day on the job was yesterday, but she was just shadowing people. “I learned how to restock the ketchup! Thrilling!” she exclaimed with a hint of sarcasm.
Today, she worked on the cash register, which means she had multiple interactions with the public.
“Hi! Welcome to Culver’s! What can I get started fresh for you today?”
“Is that what you have to say? Those exact words?” I asked during our conversation after she returned.
“No, we just have to work ‘fresh’ into it somehow.”
“So you could say something like, ‘Hi! Welcome to Culver’s, home of freshity fresh-fresh freshness!’? Would that work?”
She rolled her eyes as a fourteen-year-old will do.
As for the picture, I had to sneak it.
Boys’ Lunch
After visiting with Papa this morning, E and I decided we needed a boys’ afternoon out for lunch. And when it’s a boys’ afternoon out for lunch, we always choose Mexican. And when we choose Mexican, the Boy always chooses the same thing: enchiladas.
The Girl couldn’t go with us because, well, it was a boys’ afternoon, but also because she had her first day at work. I got to see her in her Culver’s uniform, but I didn’t get to snap a picture. Not yet, at least.
Mid-June Thursday
Taxi service today: E to scout camp at 8:00. L to volleyball conditioning at 9:00. Pick her up at 10:00.
I had just enough time to pick the first blueberries (or second I guess — we did pick some yesterday) and to mow the neighbor’s yard afterward before heading off to take L to sand volleyball practice (including going to pick up her partner). On the way home, a few errands. Then off to pick up the Boy from scout day camp. Back home to get ready for the swim meet.
He dropped his time from 36 seconds to 31 seconds. Great job! A victory regardless of how he stacked up to the competition.
And then a glance at the “Time Machine” widget at the bottom of MTS: a reminder that four years ago today was just as hectic, but it was in Warsaw:
Tuesday
The morning — I am the taxi driver. E has to go to scout camp. L has to go to volleyball conditioning. Then L has to come home to get ready for orientation. (She got the job.) Then she has to go to that orientation. Driving, driving, driving.
After lunch, I head out and do some weeding.
I’ve no idea how many sweet gum saplings I’ve pulled up this year. I’d guess I’m nearing 300 or so. They’re everywhere. All of the sweet gum trees we have are in backyard, in the corner, where no one really cares about them. For whatever reason, the seed pods from them result in very few saplings. However, the pods from our neighbors’ trees — they’re particularly virulent, I suppose.
In the evening, it’s back to taxi service. L is participating in a summer league. In a city that’s about 40 minutes away from us when we leave for said league because the games start at six. Which means we’re driving in rush hour traffic. Which means the 20-mile trip can take up to 40 minutes…
The Flip
New Pet
L got a new pet — a frog of some sort.
We were all happy and excited for her, eager to see the new beast.
She’s been dreaming about this for some time, and she finally got it today.
If, of course, you can see the little stinker.
Jobs
My first real job was as a lifeguard at the pool in my high school. During the evenings, from 6:30 to 8:30, it was open for public swimming, and those hours were extended in the summer to include morning and afternoon swimming. Those hours on the lifeguard stand seemed endless, making the evening shift seem more than double its actual time. At times, I had to tell myself, to force myself, not to look at the clock, to resist the urge for as long as possible because I knew that, despite being sure fifteen or twenty minutes had passed, I knew I would look up and see that only five minutes had dragged by. After everyone had left, I had to clean the pool deck, clean the bathrooms, and once every few days vacuum the pool.
“Being a lifeguard is not as glamorous as it seems,” my boss (who was also my swim coach) warned us when we all began taking the requisite courses to become certified. “Being a lifeguard is, in reality, nothing more than being a glorified janitor.” He’d forgotten to mention the utter boredom.
Many teens start their working lives in fast food, and so the second job I got was at a Wendy’s franchise one summer. Tired of being a glorified janitor, I applied for the job on the advice of a friend who also worked there. It was a little better than being a lifeguard: there was at least some variety. One day I might be working on the grill; the next day I might be serving up fries. I never got to work the register, though, because I quit after a month: the manager was scheduling me to work so little that I was sure I could find a better way to spend my time — at least looking for a job with more hours.
One summer in high school, I worked mornings with a man who did landscaping. It was tiring work, and it was frustrating as well: he often didn’t explain things terribly well and then fussed at me when I didn’t do things the way he’d intended.
Today, E and I dropped off L at a local ice cream franchise for her to apply for her first job. Her friend S applied for and got a job there, and she was to start her first shift just after L’s interview.
“I’d have to work the register,” she explained on the way there, “because I can’t use any of the equipment. S said she can’t even touch the microwave.”
“How old do you have to be for that?” I asked.
“Sixteen.” So by the time she’s allowed to make milkshakes for people rather than just taking orders for them, she’ll also be old enough to drive herself to work. And that’s all in just two short years.
Going through some photos while taking an afternoon coffee today, I noticed some pictures I hadn’t remembered: the kids, out with Babcia and K during their Polska 2015 visit. The children are both vastly different in these images than they are now, with E currently just about the same age as L in the image. And the same old thoughts and realizations came back yet again…