Thanksgiving 2011
A fine, relaxing time was had by all. Even, I think, by sister-in-law Diana, who once again kept up a steady stream of good, solid table fare from Wednesday night through Saturday morning.
This trip, we included a stop near Somerset, PA to visit the now 10 year-old site of the crashed Flight 93. Hard to believe it's been 10 years since that epic date already. First time visit for us, and from what dad Reinert was saying, maybe their third visit. The memorial is evolving, according to the volunteer who greeted us in the bitter wind out near the white granite slabs bearing all the names of the crew and passengers. Phase one is done, and next up for construction is a visitors' center. When you drive in, you wonder if you are EVER going to arrive anywhere. The speed limit is 25, so there is definitely the feeling of a funeral procession. It's in an old empty coal strip mining field, and the volunteer says it's pretty much the same today as it was September 2001. Finally you get to a parking lot and message center, and you can walk an enclosed pathway toward the actual crash site in the hemlock grove. There's just a boulder and a few small American flags some distance away (which the average visitor/non-victim family member is not allowed to go near). It's a simply designed memorial, with parallel walls marking the direction of the flight path. Now I can say I've visited all three 9/11 sites. I suppose technically we did not exit the Pentagon subway station in Washington DC to actually see the building, but we were right there.
If a house's front door practically opens right onto the road, we must be in Pennsylvania. I'm always amazed at the closeness of the homes to the roads there. What was probably once a horse and buggy track is now main road, which expanded as wide as space allowed. And places just seem somehow more intensely countrified. Candles in every window, stone-walled houses, Amish farms... I always enjoy visiting that state, no matter what the season.
I loved nephew Benjamin's comment Wednesday night as we were plowing through a feast of beef brisket, sweet potato casserole, rice pilaf, corn, and a long dining table full of other side dishes: 'Mom, for tomorrow, how are you going to top this?' Well, Thursday night's free-range turkey feast equalled or bettered that meal. Something else I always enjoy when we visit John and Diana's place is taking on prep chef duties. I will gladly chop veggies, mix salad dressings, sautee' bacon, and do whatever needs doing in that kitchen. Diana and I both took naps Thanksgiving afternoon (both rare luxury and necessity) and blearily began food prep. We dined a little later than Diana had planned, but then again, who was on a schedule? I thoroughly enjoyed a few days of not having to worry about what time it was.
We did take on some physical activities to help burn off these meals. Flip, the black lab needed walking in the evenings, and Friday Tim and I accompanied Benjamin on a section of the Appalachian Trail that includes the Chimney Rocks. I have to say I'm glad we are still able keep up with a 16-year old, and on a moderately difficult trail with a 900-foot elevation change. We hiked for more than 3 hours, so I felt quite deserving of the turkey noodle soup, turkey sammich and 4 or 5 of mom Reinert's 'Kris Kringle' bars when we got back to the house.
We believe that reality is setting in for dad. That is, he finally is facing the fact that he could not make that 8-9 hour drive any more. Two years ago on an almost identical trip, he belligerently insisted he could have done it. We didn't hear any of that this time. We heard 'I'm lost,' from the back seat, and mom's stage whisper 'Be glad you're not the one behind the wheel!'. We've been disturbed for years how turned around, confused and unobservant he is when he's anywhere outside his own property. Well, time has not improved any of these things. Even with explicitly described landmarks (written down by mom), they still cannot find our house in daylight without driving past the subdivision, sometimes three times. Mom either is so tired or follows what I suspect is a safely nonconfrontational pattern of saying nothing that she is little or no help. Both mom and dad thanked us several times for taking them there, praised our driving, and went wherever we guided them.
I really worry about the two of them, though. One without the other would not be a good thing. They both look vulnerable and fragile. They cling almost fearfully to each other when walking anywhere, and have trouble with basic things like ordering in a restaurant. At least dad is finally getting a long-needed hearing aid, which will help some of that. But they have trouble following conversations, and I notice dad does not really participate, even with people his own age. A racist comment at the table one night made me wonder what sort of deep-seated beliefs about the larger world he really has. For as much domestic and international travel as the two of them have done over the years, they are shockingly unsophisticated and unworldly.
And I overheard him say that a doctor warned him about his sugar intake 30 years ago already. Here I'd thought his borderline diabetes was only since about 2000. You'd never know he had an issue with sugar by watching him. He drinks homemade grape juice, full-sugar pop, takes larger and more helpings of the sugariest dishes than anyone else, and scrapes his bowl/plate clean with enough vigor to leave scratch marks. Makes me wonder what the long term effects of a frequently spiking/high sugar are, especially on the neurological side of things. I guess if he's made it to the age of 84 in as good health as he has, there must be some mitigating factors.
It also occurred to me that the fast-moving world today is very unkind to people like these. How many things do we automatically do today that involve a computer, smartphone, or searching online for something, or sharing images or information in some capacity on the internet? Mom and dad asked several times how we knew about finding a good burger at Heck's Cafe in Cleveland, and could not quite grasp the idea of the GPS stuck to the windshield making it so easy for us to navigate our way everywhere. Or the EZ-Pass toll transponder that puts the tolls on our credit card. We had to explain to dad why we didn't need to get a physical paper ticket for the turnpike a couple times. Somehow it's possible to be a complete technophobe these days, but it seems like a more and more difficult proposition. On the other hand, if there were some catastrophic crash of everything electronic, would people like mom and dad be the ones we'd need to lean on?
These people are not long for this world, and we should probably be making as many holiday road trips to Pennsylvania with them as possible.
This trip, we included a stop near Somerset, PA to visit the now 10 year-old site of the crashed Flight 93. Hard to believe it's been 10 years since that epic date already. First time visit for us, and from what dad Reinert was saying, maybe their third visit. The memorial is evolving, according to the volunteer who greeted us in the bitter wind out near the white granite slabs bearing all the names of the crew and passengers. Phase one is done, and next up for construction is a visitors' center. When you drive in, you wonder if you are EVER going to arrive anywhere. The speed limit is 25, so there is definitely the feeling of a funeral procession. It's in an old empty coal strip mining field, and the volunteer says it's pretty much the same today as it was September 2001. Finally you get to a parking lot and message center, and you can walk an enclosed pathway toward the actual crash site in the hemlock grove. There's just a boulder and a few small American flags some distance away (which the average visitor/non-victim family member is not allowed to go near). It's a simply designed memorial, with parallel walls marking the direction of the flight path. Now I can say I've visited all three 9/11 sites. I suppose technically we did not exit the Pentagon subway station in Washington DC to actually see the building, but we were right there.
If a house's front door practically opens right onto the road, we must be in Pennsylvania. I'm always amazed at the closeness of the homes to the roads there. What was probably once a horse and buggy track is now main road, which expanded as wide as space allowed. And places just seem somehow more intensely countrified. Candles in every window, stone-walled houses, Amish farms... I always enjoy visiting that state, no matter what the season.
I loved nephew Benjamin's comment Wednesday night as we were plowing through a feast of beef brisket, sweet potato casserole, rice pilaf, corn, and a long dining table full of other side dishes: 'Mom, for tomorrow, how are you going to top this?' Well, Thursday night's free-range turkey feast equalled or bettered that meal. Something else I always enjoy when we visit John and Diana's place is taking on prep chef duties. I will gladly chop veggies, mix salad dressings, sautee' bacon, and do whatever needs doing in that kitchen. Diana and I both took naps Thanksgiving afternoon (both rare luxury and necessity) and blearily began food prep. We dined a little later than Diana had planned, but then again, who was on a schedule? I thoroughly enjoyed a few days of not having to worry about what time it was.
We did take on some physical activities to help burn off these meals. Flip, the black lab needed walking in the evenings, and Friday Tim and I accompanied Benjamin on a section of the Appalachian Trail that includes the Chimney Rocks. I have to say I'm glad we are still able keep up with a 16-year old, and on a moderately difficult trail with a 900-foot elevation change. We hiked for more than 3 hours, so I felt quite deserving of the turkey noodle soup, turkey sammich and 4 or 5 of mom Reinert's 'Kris Kringle' bars when we got back to the house.
We believe that reality is setting in for dad. That is, he finally is facing the fact that he could not make that 8-9 hour drive any more. Two years ago on an almost identical trip, he belligerently insisted he could have done it. We didn't hear any of that this time. We heard 'I'm lost,' from the back seat, and mom's stage whisper 'Be glad you're not the one behind the wheel!'. We've been disturbed for years how turned around, confused and unobservant he is when he's anywhere outside his own property. Well, time has not improved any of these things. Even with explicitly described landmarks (written down by mom), they still cannot find our house in daylight without driving past the subdivision, sometimes three times. Mom either is so tired or follows what I suspect is a safely nonconfrontational pattern of saying nothing that she is little or no help. Both mom and dad thanked us several times for taking them there, praised our driving, and went wherever we guided them.
I really worry about the two of them, though. One without the other would not be a good thing. They both look vulnerable and fragile. They cling almost fearfully to each other when walking anywhere, and have trouble with basic things like ordering in a restaurant. At least dad is finally getting a long-needed hearing aid, which will help some of that. But they have trouble following conversations, and I notice dad does not really participate, even with people his own age. A racist comment at the table one night made me wonder what sort of deep-seated beliefs about the larger world he really has. For as much domestic and international travel as the two of them have done over the years, they are shockingly unsophisticated and unworldly.
And I overheard him say that a doctor warned him about his sugar intake 30 years ago already. Here I'd thought his borderline diabetes was only since about 2000. You'd never know he had an issue with sugar by watching him. He drinks homemade grape juice, full-sugar pop, takes larger and more helpings of the sugariest dishes than anyone else, and scrapes his bowl/plate clean with enough vigor to leave scratch marks. Makes me wonder what the long term effects of a frequently spiking/high sugar are, especially on the neurological side of things. I guess if he's made it to the age of 84 in as good health as he has, there must be some mitigating factors.
It also occurred to me that the fast-moving world today is very unkind to people like these. How many things do we automatically do today that involve a computer, smartphone, or searching online for something, or sharing images or information in some capacity on the internet? Mom and dad asked several times how we knew about finding a good burger at Heck's Cafe in Cleveland, and could not quite grasp the idea of the GPS stuck to the windshield making it so easy for us to navigate our way everywhere. Or the EZ-Pass toll transponder that puts the tolls on our credit card. We had to explain to dad why we didn't need to get a physical paper ticket for the turnpike a couple times. Somehow it's possible to be a complete technophobe these days, but it seems like a more and more difficult proposition. On the other hand, if there were some catastrophic crash of everything electronic, would people like mom and dad be the ones we'd need to lean on?
These people are not long for this world, and we should probably be making as many holiday road trips to Pennsylvania with them as possible.