The Long Hot Summer

Final camping trip of the summer, miles and miles of Iowa's best, corn tassels swaying in the breeze, drying gracefully under the scorching midwest sun.  Summer is no gentle lamb departing gracefully this year, rather a fiery menace blasting red hot fumes over the shriveled earth and my drooping sweaty self. Takes me back to memories of an oblivious childhood survived without air conditioning or sunscreen. We finally did inherit an old "window shaker" equipped with deafening vibrations shaking the entire house, conversation replaced by a pile of sticky sunburnt kids wallowing in the cool paradise. Thank the Lord for technology, a good dermatologist and a husband in the heating and cooling business.  

This wondrous country never fails to inspire, switching up our family vacation from Michigan's stunning lakeshores to iconic Colorado mountains, exchanging a comfy beach chair for a trek up a rugged mountainside. Appropriately captivated, Paul and I returned to the place that sparked our vagabond adventures back when hippies and bell bottoms ruled the '70s. Gassed up the Oldsmobile, windows down, Star beer in the cooler, a borrowed tent, REO Speedwagon propelling us along I-80 blaring "Take It On The Run", an unimaginable journey launching us fearlessly into the next fifty years.  Although this time we traded hot dogs and frigid temps on a sloping campsite for a condo fully outfitted with running water, massive screen tv, a well stocked refrigerator and many happy hour(s) in the hot tub, not quite believing our very good fortune.  

Grandparenting is the greatest gift in this world, no pressure, just hanging out, buying useless stuff, being really cool playmates until they realize we're just old geezers with nothing else to do. That's ok, we still buy them useless stuff, play games and tell tales and they tell a few too. It's all good. Granddaughters thoroughly embracing seven days of ultimate cousin/sisterhood, racing, screaming, uncontrollable laughter, goofiness on steroids, clowns in a frenzied circus, crazy antics, entertainment ala girls gone wild. What really blows me away is witnessing first-hand the incredible parents my sons and daughter-in-laws have become, with kindness, patience and love that is fully tested as the energy level climbs, the smirk on my face conveys where we have all been ages before, bedtime and cocktails soothe a frazzled mind.

A mountaintop adventure park seemed the perfect crusade for our Fab Four granddaughters, finally an elevation that matched their energy level. As they boarded the gondola to the peak, in a moment of pure delusional fantasy Paul and I decided a hike up to that lofty summit was a wonderful idea, a lovely stroll to the very tip of Vail Mountain, what feeble minded senior citizen wouldn't agree? Nearing the foothills, craning my neck to see the shadow of that beast blocking the sun, I knew in that precise moment I had lost my mind. Climbing, crawling, wheezing up that vile, despicable, lousy, forsaken, sinister, vicious, terrifying, dreadful, horrible, gruesome, heinous, nasty, stinking, evil monster. Passing a quaintly carved porcupine, visions of my very own petrified skeleton perched on a neighboring stump seemed a fitting memorial. Barely breathing, prayers answered, deliriously throwing my arms around the gondola attendant at the top. We did it. An absolute miracle.

The brutal summer took two amazing women from me, family, friends for a lifetime who knew me better than most and accepted my flaws, my shortcomings, reassuringly convincing me I was just about normal, sane almost.  They  departed with grace and dignity, lives fully exhausted in the pursuit of living and loving, bravely defying the harshness of sickness ravaged bodies, their tender spirits stronger, peaceful even as the end grew nearer. Often I am reminded of them in the stillness of radiant, sunny mornings, on a strenuous hike up a mountainside, in the faces of my handsome sons, their gorgeous wives and my perfect granddaughters. Blessings of a beautiful life with wondrous memories of remarkable women who cared for me, comforted and loved me unconditionally and continue to fill my soul.  

Comments

  1. Nicely said. Glad we are friends again.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Martha, I just read
    This post. You make life so fun and adventurous. You see life so beautifully and I love that about you. Liz

    ReplyDelete

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