might be baloney

Late on the afternoon of Monday, May 7, Nahna flew back to Richmond. Our son picked Nahna up at the airport. Nahna had been in Chicago almost three weeks.

Since I left Chicago back on April 26, some warm days of spring finally teased the Lincoln Park neighborhood. If you live in Chicago, you take full advantage of what mother nature gives you from late April into October. I still get chilled thinking about what felt like a winter wind on a stunning sunlit day at the Lincoln Park Zoo the day before I drove home to Virginia.

A long, long time ago when I was teaching at Hermitage High School, I remember my friend and fellow teacher, Bruce Bowen, saying to me as Betsy and I awaited the arrival of our first child, “If you ever doubted there was a God, just wait till your first baby arrives.” He was right.

Life is a blur. It zips by at a speed that defies a stop watch. All those moments in the raising of our three children I barely have any recollection. I wonder how we survived. I wonder how our parents, and their parents survived. Somehow, we did, and they did too.

I’m thinking that survival was graced by love. A love that was committed to doing everything within your power to nurture and raise that tiny bundle.

I will pray that our three current grandchildren and any that might arrive in the future will feel that same love. I’ll pray that their parents even when they are at their wit’s end can grab a hold of that love and allow it to sustain them.

On May 10, Hudson turned three weeks old. Recently, he awarded his parents with six hours of sleep one night. Maybe that was a payback to his parents for loving him. I suspect he can feel their love— dirty diapers, hiccups, and the impromptu whizzing during a diaper change.

Way out there in the future will be that day of reflection about all of this for Hudson’s parents, and it will be a blur. And, they will ask how did we survive it, and I hope their answer will be the grace of love.

For our son-in-law, the year 2017 was a tough one for him and his sister. At two different points, they lost their parents. For their father, Ron, the demon was an out of the blue devastating stroke. For Ron’s wife, Debbie, it was the demon of all demons—that wretched cancer.

Ron and Debbie were two people who were graced with love for their children, family, and friends. I’m sure as they look down  from heaven that they are tickled with Hudson’s arrival.

Over the last several years, I have become a  reader of the comic strips in the newspaper. Today, I rarely miss an opportunity to scan them. I marvel at the wit and wisdom of these exceptionally gifted writers and artists.

Recently, in The Family Circus by Bil and Jeff Keane, the youngest child in the family is in the arms of his grandmother. The child asks, “Grandma, how’d you get so good at hugs?”

My commander supreme, now crowned Nahna, by the Princess, is a good hugger. Her grandchildren know it, and those hugs come from the grace of love.

I hope that love holds them forever.

I think I slept pretty well. Outside the first light of the dawn is slowly arriving in Chicago on Thursday, April 26. My goal is to be packed, loaded, and driving out of Lincoln Park by 6:15. My packing prep work the previous afternoon was a big help. 

I dress, put the couch back together, and complete my daily devotional routine. Breakfast is next. Whole wheat grainy bread, sliced bananas, peanut butter, and honey make a sandwich. That is joined by a cup of blueberry yogurt and some cranberry juice.

Two trips are made to the car with assorted items. Luckily, I remembered not to lock myself out of the condo. A final pit stop is made. I make one last look for any misplaced items. Seeing none, I exit a still sleeping condo. In my heart, I whisper goodbye to the Princess, Hudson, and their weary caregivers. When I enter the car, the clock read 6:14.

Armitage to Lincoln to LaSalle to U.S. 41, also known as Lake Shore Drive and the Lake Michigan Circle Tour are my starting points. This was a good time to leave. There is traffic, but it is not crazy Chicago traffic yet.

A bright sun and blue sky christen the lake. Even though, I’m driving easily along, I already miss by co-pilot/navigator.

I’m working my way toward Interstate 90, or the Skyway. When I cross the state line into Indiana it becomes the Indiana Toll Road. Getting to I-90 is a series of well-marked turns for U.S. 41. From our past drives to Chicago, Nahna has trained me well. I miss none of the turns. Soon, I’m at the Indiana state line.

It isn’t long before I’m entering the ramp for I-90. From there my next connection is I-65 which I will follow all the way to Louisville, Kentucky.

Traffic isn’t heavy, and I watch commuter trains running parallel to the interstate.

Connecting with I-65 south goes smoothly, and the gritty steel towns of northern Indiana are behind me. Gradually, the landscape becomes farms. Acres and acres of farms are on both sides of the interstate.

From a distance, spring is still stubbornly slow in showing up. But some farmers have plowed their fields. That turned over soil reveals a rich palette of chocolate hues. Those flat farm plots are sprinkled with tree lines, farm houses and their buildings, and  gray roadways. Those roadways are a means for breaking what appears to be a solitude of loneliness in every direction.

Near Remington, Indiana, I exit for some gasoline and a potty break. Back in the car, my cell phone rings. It is our youngest daughter, Elizabeth, checking on me and to wish me safe travels.

Back out on I-65, I continue to push south. Tractor trailers are plentiful in either direction. Parts of I-65 are getting some much needing repair attention. A few of these sections require using the right shoulder lane of the interstate to keep traffic moving. This makes for some tight quarters at times and attentiveness to the worn out road surface.

I always stare in wonder at the massive wind turbines north of Lafayette. Today, the three-pointed, rotor blades are almost motionless out on the flapjack farmland.

No interruptions with traffic flow, and it isn’t long before Indianapolis is within reach. I hold tight to I-65 as the downtown section of the city starts to come into view. I always forget this is the home of Butler University.

I wonder what kind of morning they are having back in Chicago?

The push south continues. Those northern Indiana farms are gone. Getting closer to Kentucky, I’m starting to see more of the greening of spring. I haven’t traveled on I-65 going into Louisville in a few years. On recent trips, we have taken U.S. 35 through Ohio and West Virginia.

If my memory is correct, new bridge construction was a traffic factor the last time we traveled through Louisville. But that wasn’t the case today. A new bridge spanned high over the Ohio River. Connecting to I-64 had been improved too, and it wasn’t long before Louisville was behind me.

I stopped at the Kentucky visitors center just outside of Shelbyville for a little break. Also, I checked in with Nahna as she had sent a couple of text messages. Then, I stopped again in Shelbyville for gas and to do some rye whiskey searching at the local Kroger—yes Kroger.  But, they didn’t stock the Pikesville rye whiskey I hoped to find.

Back in the car, the state capital Frankfort is coming up. This is followed by the rolling hills of Lexington. Green pastures, some spotted with horses and pleasing fence lines at times filled both sides of the interstate.

Past Lexington, the landscape continued to change. Hills became taller and assorted shades of rock appeared. At Ashland, I would cross the Big Sandy River, and before I knew it I had crossed the state line of West Virginia.

One of my challenges on long drives is staying awake. But today, I only felt sleepy once, and some peanuts, followed with mints cured that. At this point, I felt like I could make it to Richmond without stopping for the night.

From Huntington, I pursued Charleston where some road construction slowed me down to a single lane, but we kept moving. The twists, turns, and steep grades going up and down on the West Virginia Turnpike awaited me. Even with a bit of local rush hour traffic, I kept moving.

Pretty landscapes with a touch of spring appeared like picture frames on a wall. I saw a narrow waterfall splashing over panels of rock that had been chiseled over time by nature.

Needing a break and some fuel, I decided to exit at Sam Black Church. After filling up, taking a potty break, and buying a snack, I asked the cashier about the name Sam Black Church*. I wondered about the history. The cashier had no clue. When I asked him how many times during the day people stop and ask about the name, he said I was the first. But, he did say he might Google the name later.

Before returning to I-64, I called Nahna, and let her know I was heading for Richmond.

The further east I pushed, I tried not to look at the mileage signs. At this point, those signs only serve as discouraging news for me.

Eventually, I crossed back into Virginia, and while it took time, just past Lexington I merged back on I-81 north. Traffic wasn’t too heavy.

During this section on I-81 before reconnecting with I-64, my sister in North Carolina called me to make sure I was still living. I affirmed that I was and thanked her for calling.

Daylight was fading, and I kept pushing. It seemed like forever before the connection back to I-64 arrived, but it did. Into Waynesboro daylight had disappeared. Surfing the radio was helping to keep me awake and focused.

Though I was becoming more frazzled,  I continued to drive with a purpose. Thankfully, a few minutes after 9:15, I was home.

I called Nahna. Unpacked the car and fixed a couple of pieces of cheese toast.

Before collapsing, I sort out mail and newspapers, check land line phone messages, and today’s e-mails.

Finally, I’m. Ready to head upstairs.

With a prayer of thanks, I’m ready for sleep.

But before closing my eyes, my mind thinks about my family in Chicago— I hope that Hudson is sleeping too.

 

* Sam Black Church

I decided to do a bit of research on Sam Black Church.

Today, it is a United Methodist Church. It is small white framed building located in Greenbrier County, West Virginia. The church was named after Sam Black who was circuit riding Methodist preacher. Built in 1902, the church earned a spot on the National Register of Historic Places in 1999.

It was quiet when I woke early on the morning of Wednesday, April 25. Even after 5:30, I could tell it was going to be a bright day. But, I had also had heard the wind whipping around during the night, plus the local weather guys had talked about a cold front blowing through—another delay for spring in Chicago. 

My plan was to take an early morning walk up Armitage, and maybe snap a few photographs.

Completed my Upper Room and Bible verse reading, then I dressed anticipating brisk air outside.

Our son-in-law was up, and I let him know I was going for a walk.

As soon as I hit the sidewalk, I knew I had dressed correctly. The wind was flapping around the Irish flag outside the River Shannon Bar. I started heading west on Armitage with no destination in mind.

Runners and dog walkers were out. So were some early commuters and construction workers.

An early riser, politely tooted her car horn as she pulled out from an alley letting foot traffic know her presence.

A Chicago police officer sat in a patrol car filling out a report.

About a block from the elevated train tracks, I crossed over to the other side of Armitage heading east. Architecture all through  these neighborhoods amazes me. Something different always catches my eye.

I stop at the Lincoln Park High School and walk over to its main entrance. Four massive columns grace the front doors. As I scan my eyes upward toward the apex of this unmovable frontage, I note the date 1899.

A significant construction project is taking place at the school. The city has mounted a large bold sign touting this plan on a fence along the Armitage sidewalk. As I walk past the sign, I note a large brown bunny scavenging around in a sparse green space dwarfed by the building.

Further down Armitage, the sun is casting it beams against the facade of a building. For a short span of time, it is like the building is in a natural spotlight.

One sign, I noted earlier on Armitage at the entrance to an alley displayed: No Outlet.

During our stay, I’ve been drawn to one alley that I always stop and stare down for a few seconds.

Way at the other end is a church steeple. 

I wonder in our world today how many people find themselves in situations where they believe they have no outlet, no options, no alternatives.

I also wonder in those situations if people ever consider looking down a different alley, the one with a church steeple at the end.

We have a busy morning ahead of us. I need to get back to the condo.

 

 

 

Part II

Hudson has his first follow-up visit with the pediatrician this morning at 9:30. While he is there with his parents, Nahna and I will be taking the Princess over to the Lincoln Park Zoo.

After breakfast, there is a different pace in the condo this morning.

Our daughter and her husband have compiled a list of questions for the doctor. Soon it is departure time for Hudson’s appointment. He is carefully placed in his car seat. I am given the privilege of walking Hudson downstairs where his father is waiting in the car. Making sure she has everything, his mother isn’t far behind me.

I hand Hudson off to his dad, and that northerly breeze pushes me quickly back inside. Now, the focus is getting the Princess ready for our walk to the zoo. The Princess is in a playful mood—no rush to get to the zoo. Nahna and I comply giving her space to play.

Once every few minutes, we remind her of our pending trip, and she attempts to cooperate with the getting ready request, but there is no follow through from her. After several minutes of play and with more timely reminders about the zoo, the Princess finally commits.

We take the back stairs down to dump some trash in the bins in the  alley. We put the Princess in her stroller, and now, we are walking toward the zoo.

Our route just happens to take us by a Starbucks. Nahna picks up a drink for herself and a cake pop for the Princess. In a matter of seconds that cake pop is gone.

When we arrive on the grounds of the zoo, the Princess from her previous visits sets our focus on seeing her favorites— the chimpanzees and the penguins. She knows how to guide us as she occasionally says: “this way.”

The favorite animals for the Princess did not disappoint. But we also observed a snow leopard, an exceptionally noisy zebra, a giraffe, and a number of other creatures. Also, fish displays earned a high approval rating from the Princess.

To break up this journey, we attempted a walk through the Conservatory to view a diverse collection of tropical plants from around the world.

A reluctant Princess granted us a quick walk, but that was it. At this point, the Princess was rapidly approaching a meltdown. Somehow, we were able to regain cooperation, and we started the walk back home.

Even with bright sunshine, as we were leaving the zoo, a cold gust of wind really chilled me. I thought to myself this is the coldest I’ve ever been on April 25.

We made it back to the condo. Hudson had a good report from the doctor, and questions from his parents were answered.

Lunch was ordered from the Chicago Bagel Authority (CBA). The CBA is famous for their warm steamed bagel sandwiches. I ordered a Messy Katie. It was delicious, but appropriately named.

Later during the afternoon, Nahna and I ran errands for the family. Target, Trader Joe’s, and Binnys were our destinations. We were successful in meeting the requests on the shopping list.  When we returned, the Princess, up from her nap, helped us unload the bags.

After this, I started my prep for heading back to Richmond on Thursday morning. This didn’t take too long. It was just a matter of making sure I wasn’t going to leave anything behind.

On our trips to Chicago, I like trying to make the short walk to the corner bar, The River Shannon, for a beer. When the Princess finished her dinner, our son-in-law and I were granted permission to make this trip. Established in 1946, I enjoy going in just to see if anything has changed since my last visit, and the answer is always—no.

For dinner tonight, we order a couple of pizzas from Bricks. Located in the basement of a building on Lincoln Avenue, it is a short walk from the condo. But, a walk that is always worth it as their pizzas are really, really good.

While we were going to pick up the pizzas, Hudson continued his proficiency with his whizzing. Another saturated diaper during his feeding that of course leaked out on his mother.

Hudson has whipped us into a quick after dinner cleanup. Maybe someday, he’ll implement the same protocols when caring for his new-born daughter or son.

Sleep is needed. The drive back to Richmond is long.

My usual navigator, Nahna, will be staying longer in Chicago. Her skills are more valuable than mine in helping out Hudson and the Princess.

Tuesday, April 24 was a quiet day.

For the Princess, her father was going to take her to the Pee Wee class at the local fitness center.

I took the trash and the recycling into the alley behind the condo and dumped them into the appropriate containers. The sun was warm on the back side of the condo.

Back inside, I had orders to take down the pink curtain in what would eventually become Hudson’s new room.

Even with little activity, the morning passed quickly.

Hudson had been awake, then asleep. Fed, then back to sleep. He had given his parents a primer on his capacity to whiz when least expected during diaper changes. They had also learned about the lack of snugness with newborn diapers. Despite this learning curve, Hudson captured a room.

Just past noon, the Princess and her dad returned from her Pee Wee class. We received a full report about all of the activities, but then the Princess realized the handcrafted helicopter she made had been left behind.

Pretty soon, the Princess was headed for her afternoon nap.

While she was napping, Nahna and I took a short walk to an overpriced grocery store to pickup a few items for our baked salmon dinner.

Once we returned, the afternoon was interrupted for our daughter. It appeared that the C-section incision wasn’t healing properly. So, she had scheduled an appointment with her doctor to check out the incision.

When she returned, all was well. But, I was sent to the CVS to pick up a couple of items the doctor recommended to promote the healing.

It was still a bit cool, but the afternoon was sun lit with blue skies. The Princess wanted to go to the park. Within a few minutes, we were organized and ready for this trip.

At the park, all the Princess wanted to do was swing in the swings, and the higher the better. We sampled every style of swing at the park. While swinging, the Princess reconfirmed her sighting of a faint white moon high in the eastern blue sky. 

Sometimes at home, the Princess is able to coax her father into a bit of interior swinging. The Princess finds a shopping bag with sturdy handles. She snuggles into the bag. Her father swings her back and forth until his shoulders scream for mercy.

Eventually, we were able to coax the Princess out of the last swing. We started the walk back home. We took a slightly different route with the hope of rolling over more bumps in the sidewalk.

After eating her dinner, there was a surprise awaiting the Princess. To replace her broken wand, her dad had ordered an assortment of new wands for her. The Princess was pleased.

Our evening routine fit a familiar template. The Princess starts heading for bed around 7. Then everyone is glued on Hudson, and we try to figure out eating dinner. Despite eating dinner much later than when we are in Richmond, this schedule has worked.

And tucked away in that routine is the hope that Hudson will have another good night.

Minus the Princess, the adults in the condo were moving slow on the morning of Monday, April 23.

On his first night in his new home, Hudson was intent in creating a memorable evening for the adults. He won. White flags were raised all through the night.

Hopefully, there would be some recovery before the sun was cast away for night number two.

On the agenda this morning was walking the Princess to the Old Town School of Folk Music for her Wiggle Worm class. We arrived before the start time. Parked our stroller in the lobby, and Nahna and the Princess headed to the 45-minute class. I figured the Wiggle Worm class might be too intense for an old grump like me.

So, I sat in the lobby, and watched it fill with strollers of all shapes and sizes. Parents and nannies herded kids to the Wiggle Worm classroom. Some moved fast. Others moved slow. Some needed coaxing with countdowns or food driven bribes.

Occasionally, my solitude was broken when a harried grandparent arrived late with a wiggle worm. In the background, a wonderfully diverse playlist of music was lilting through the speakers. It seemed like a good time for a nap, but sporadic stomping from the Wiggle Worms up above prevented that.

When the class was over, the lobby was a stroller traffic nightmare. Somehow, the departing and arriving negotiated with no collisions or ruffled feathers.

It was a brisk walk back to condo as we pushed into a cool breeze that felt more like fall than spring. However, the Princess enjoyed every bump on the sidewalk.

Back at the condo, Hudson was settled. His demands from the first night had subsided.

After lunch, Nahna and I were slotted to make a run to Target. I should have stayed at home. I’m not a very good cart driver.

With Target behind me, I was scheduled to do some sprucing up of the shrubs and landscaped beds in front of the condo. Once I was organized that turned out to be a good chore—a full afternoon.

By the time I re-entered the condo, the Princess had finished her dinner of macaroni and cheese. Soon, she would be getting ready for a bubble bath.

Once again, Nahna had prepped another crock pot dinner. This one featuring beef, onions, carrots, and potatoes. Based around Hudson’s needs, we ate in shifts. The meal hit the spot.

Wondering what the night held for Hudson, everyone scurried to clean up the kitchen and to get ready for bed.

Deep inside, I think we had silently prayed that Hudson’s second night would be more restful and less stressful than his first.

God must still be hanging around up there.

Night number two was a significant improvement.

By my usual Sunday schedule, I had overslept.  Outside the streets were quiet as was the condo. At some point today that quietness would disappear for a long, long time—Hudson comes home. 

Soon the condo had some life. The Princess and Nahna were planning breakfast. I was waiting for my grocery list and navigational orders. With running temporarily off my exercise list, I was going to make the walk to Trader Joe’s. Nahna was going to start cooking some meals to carry us through the week.

But before I headed out, a friend of our daughter’s who she knew in Richmond from high school was going to stop by. The friend who now lives in Mt. Prospect, Illinois was dropping off a care package of items from prepared frozen meals, ingredients for meals to fix from scratch, and a freshly made coffee cake from the Central Continental Bakery. In the baking business since 1922, one bite of the coffee cake affirmed why this bakery is still in business.

After offering our thanks and saying goodbye, I prepared for my departure to Trader Joe’s.

Nahna had given me a list of items to purchase and directions. The walk would be just over a mile, and it only involved three left turns Armitage, North Kenmore, North Clybourn.

It was cool, but no breeze. Many of the store fronts from past walks had managed to survive another year—some had not. The quietness of a side street of homes was broken by the clanking of an extension ladder.

Some entrance areas to homes and apartments still had small piles of brown leaves long forgotten from the fall hanging around. Newspapers fading in their plastic bags were hoping someone might pick them up.

In warmer weather, the always bustling firehouse would have its bay doors open proudly showing their wares, but not on this cool morning. The now antique Schlitz Beer sign still hangs prominently above the door at the bar on the corner of Halstead and Armitage.

I walk under the elevated train bridge getting closer to the left turn on Kenmore. A Catholic church at the corner of Armitage and Kenmore has a few patrons hustling in for a service.

On Kenmore homes line both sides of the street. I meet a friendly dog walker, and overhear young parents across the street talking with their oldest child about losing toy playing privileges—a tough start for his day.

The twists and turns on Kenmore lead me to the left on Clybourn and Trader Joe’s is in sight. Once inside, I start working through the list, and I only make one call to Nahna asking for advice.

With two recyclable grocery bags neatly packed, I started the walk back.

Eventually, I was across from Lincoln Park High School. I noticed a sign advertising Second City Church. This non-denominational church meets on Sunday mornings at 10 in the high school’s auditorium. At the bottom of the sign were the words: Second chance. Second life.

Made it back to the condo. Unloaded the grocery bags. Nahna prepped and then added ingredients into the crock pot for tonight’s dinner.

Our son-in-law used public transportation for a quick ride to come back to the condo to pick up the car. We were all anticipating an afternoon dismissal from the hospital.

Soon it was lunch time for the Princess with a nap to follow. She too was anticipating the arrival of her parents and her little brother, Hudson.

At some point after lunch, Nahna received a text—they had left the hospital.

 

Baby Road: Day Six Part II 

Sometime after three, they arrived. A parking spot awaited them in front of the condo. I headed down the three flights of stairs to meet them and help unload. 

Snuggly tucked in his car seat, Hudson was wearing a cap colored to match the blue afternoon sky. I grabbed some bags to take upstairs. Then headed back down for another load. I met our son-in-law in the stairwell. He had the remaining items.

Eventually, we both ended up at the entrance to the condo with his wife and Hudson. They wanted a photo of the three of them before they entered the building. My daughter handed me her iPhone. This was going to be an experience as I am still the proud owner of a flip phone.

The other day she called to FaceTime from the hospital. I was the only one available to pick up Nahna’s phone. I assumed it was just a phone call. My finger swiped the button and I put the phone up to my ear. Clearly, my daughter on the other end didn’t expect to be looking into an ear.

But this afternoon, the technology gods were on my side. After a quick lesson, I snapped a couple of photos on the iPhone. Luckily, they met the standard.

It was a long climb up the three flights of stairs for my daughter, but she made it. Nahna was at the top of the stairs waiting to greet her and Hudson.

The Princess was going to be waking up from her afternoon nap soon. She was going to have a nice surprise awaiting her.

Loaded with restful energy, the Princess was all smiles to see mom, dad, and Hudson.

Slowly, things settled down. Our son-in-law was headed for a short walk to the CVS to pick up assorted prescriptions.

Nahna, the Princess, and I were going to walk over to Bauler Park for some swing riding. The Princess rode her tricycle, and she enjoyed rolling over the bumps in the sidewalks.

Bauler Park was in constant motion— kids in every direction. Parents chatting and watching out for unpredictable collisions.

On our previous trips to Bauler Park, we had noticed blue ribbons tied to tree trunks and lampposts along the way. When we returned home, I asked our daughter about the ribbons.

The ribbons are a tribute from the neighborhood to honor the memory of a Chicago police officer who was the commander for this section of Lincoln Park. Sadly, the officer was killed in the line of duty.

When we returned from the park, I was asked to run an errand to CVS. Our wonderful son-in-law had forgotten to purchase a bottle of stool softener.

I make the quick walk to CVS. Walk in the door and immediately I start scanning the aisle signs. An alert employee noted I was searching for something. She asked if I needed help.

While I’m sure she was trained to know where every product in the store was located, I wasn’t about to blurt out stool softener, nor would I have exclaimed Tampax or condoms. I thanked her and politely declined, and in the laxatives aisle I found the product.

Once back at the condo, the Princess had finished her dinner. Bedtime wasn’t far off for her.

Hudson was being Hudson, a baby, trying to adjust.

The walk to Trader Joe’s had been worth it. Nahna’s crock pot magic produced a delicious chicken dinner. We ate in shifts. Then cleaned up the kitchen and prepared for bed.

Little did we know, Hudson was going to give us a long, unrestful night.

When we make the decision to become parents, long unrestful nights are to be expected.

For whatever reason, young Hudson made sure that his first night in his new home was going to be etched forever in the minds of his parents and grandparents. He apparently was thinking—I’m here, and there is nothing in your bag of tricks that are going to settle me down.

Hudson was correct. It was a long, long, long, long, long night.

Weary faces and bodies found it hard to greet the light of a new day.

Not that I had been a slug since our arrival in Chicago, but I needed some exercise. So, on the morning of Saturday, April 21, I resolved to head out early for a run down by the lakeshore.

My only concern was the hamstring area of my left leg. Not sure how or when, but some muscle in there was out of sorts. And despite my efforts to be nice to the muscle, it was still bugging me when I go for a run. Interestingly, there are no problems while intensely riding a stationary bike.

Loaded with a strong dose of male stubbornness, I headed out. Within my first few turtle steps, I knew this run was a bad idea. But, my pig-headed mentality over ruled the practical side of my brain.

A gray sky, a 43-degree temperature, and an east wind greeted me. My path through the neighborhood revealed a still present drabness from winter.

On the fringes of the Lincoln Park Zoo, I found my familiar path. The crushed stone and sand crunched beneath my feet as I plodded behind fields used for softball and soccer. Next, was the footbridge over Lakeshore Drive that would take me to the Lakefront trails. At the crest of the bridge, the faint colors of a still rising sun came into view embedded in gray clouds.

I departed the bridge and hooked a left heading toward another familiar landmark, a windmill and a weathered statue of an American Indian perched on his horse. This carved out green space along the trail is a tranquil spot.

A few bike riders, runners, and walkers were out. Some were whipping by me, others like me trudging along. I saw one brave boater and three hopeful fishermen at the edge of the lake with tautly cast lines.

Sections along the trail revealed a landscape worn from winter’s whims. The sandy beaches needed a grooming to clear assorted debris. Signs of repair crews were present where segments of eroded asphalt and concrete had been cut away.

Lake Michigan’s surface barely moved in the light east wind. Once in a while the shoreline rippled from the slight push of a tiny wave.

A younger runner passed me and said, “good work.” He must have known I was struggling as I was barely making turtle pace.

That windmill looked a lot closer when I started, now I hoped I could make it that far. Slowly, my old body delivered me to that point, and I made a right turn, then looped back to the left on to the trail.

On my way back, I noted a crow on a park bench picking through a random food container. The crow seemed content with the remnants left behind.

The skyline of the city was in front of me. From this distance, the city and its suburbs appeared deceptively at peace. I knew this was far from true.

I wondered what the world would be like for our grandson and all of the babies who were also born on April 19. That speculation instantly fills my brain with worry.

With every attempted stride on the way back, my body informed me—no more runs on this Chicago trip. I reluctantly accepted that order.

After breakfast and a shower, I had a kitchen chore to complete. This was followed with Nahna and the Princess leading a trip to the local Carters store followed by the ride down to the hospital.

Once in the hospital room, I encountered that deceptive peace again as I scanned the vast view of the city from the window in the room.

Resting comfortably in this mother’s arms, I hope that peace will not be a deception in our grandson’s world. I hope peace will become a reality for everyone.

Part II 

After our visit at the hospital on Saturday morning, a new game plan evolved. Our son-in-law, the Princess, and I would head back to Lincoln Park. Nahna would stay at the hospital with our daughter for a while.

Our son-in-law had some chores to do for the arrival of Hudson on Sunday. For the Princess, lunch and a nap were on the docket.

The Princess was a bit out of sorts with this transition, but she gradually came around for lunch and the nap.

Progress was made on the chores. With the paving complete on North Hudson Avenue, I made the short walk over to the next street to move our car back in front of the condo. After parking the car, I entered the lobby and found Fed Ex had dropped off some packages related to Hudson’s pending arrival. It took two trips, but the packages made it to the third floor.

Hopefully, I was going to be ready for the next challenge. With the Princess waking up from her nap, the plan was for her Dad to head back to the hospital and Nahna to return to Lincoln Park.

That meant I would be responsible for keeping the Princess happy until Nahna returned. Prior to making this trip, I wondered out loud if could bond with the Princess. Since our arrival on Wednesday morning, the Princess and I had been bonding.

Her father did a good job of explaining to her what was taking place. He left. There were no tears. We played.

Filling the newly acquired Princess castle with her stuffed animal friends, working on puzzles, and reading books helped to pass the time.

Nahna arrived, and my blood pressure went down.

 

 

One of my favorite quotes comes from American writer, James Thurber. Thurber stated:  “Humor is emotional chaos remembered in tranquility.”

I can personally vouch for this being true.

Our family’s first trip to Sanibel Island, Florida met the Thurber test. That first day of travel was motion sickness and barf bags from the first leg of the flight. This was quickly followed by there are no barf bags in rental cars.

Recently, a class on Carl Wilson that my childhood pal, Joe Vanderford, and I taught for the Osher Institute at the University of Richmond passed the test too. That one focused on technology and the accidental bump of a critical button.

 

 

But, I’m pretty sure nothing is going to compare to departing the hospital in Chicago after paying our first visit to our new grandson.

Early on the morning of Friday, April 20, a plan was developed to allow us to visit our new grandson. The goal was to arrive between 9:30 and 10:00.

It already was an exciting morning in the neighborhood as the resurfacing of the street was starting. We left on time, navigated Chicago traffic, and found our way to the parking garage across from Northwestern Medicine Prentice Women’s Hospital.

The parking deck is a busy place. We grabbed our ticket from the dispenser, cleared the gate, and made our way to level 8 where we found a parking spot. The Princess, Nahna, and I walked to the elevator. We took note that we were on the Barbara Streisand floor. The elevator was going to dump us out on Superior Street.

We crossed the street and entered the hospital. There we checked in and were given badges to wear. A quick stop was made in the florist shop to purchase an “It’s A Boy” balloon. From there it was a quick walk to the elevator and the appropriate floor for one more security clearance.

With the Princess and the balloon in tow, Nahna almost sprinted to Room 1369. Upon entering the room, our daughter was resting in her bed. Hudson was being held by his father in a chair looking out the window at the tops of buildings.

Our visit was a good one. We received a detailed report about Hudson’s arrival. Hudson was cooperative as we took our turns holding him with photos being snapped. A doctor stopped by to talk about the circumcision that was scheduled for this morning.

Pretty soon, we were working on saying goodbye for the day. A scheduled stop in the lobby for a Dunkin’ Donut was top on the list for the Princess.

Now, there was no trouble with the donuts, in fact, the donuts would come in handy.

The trouble started as we walked out of the hospital. We took the second floor bridge over to the parking deck. Then took the elevator to the eighth floor and there was Barbara Streisand just like we had left her, but we couldn’t find the car. Checked a couple of aisles, pushed the unlock button for the car, but no luck.

Next, we figured out we were on the Huron Street side of the building, not Superior where we had started. I’m sure there was a simple solution, but Nahna and I were too agitated with each other to think. Forty three years of marriage was about to be tossed into Lake Michigan.

So, I sent Nahna and the Princess down to the ground level of Huron. I headed toward the ground level of Superior. I remembered seeing  a Northwestern University Police office when we had exited the parking deck on Superior.

I found the police office and the Superior Street entrance. Then I took the elevator to floor 8, there was Barbara again, and I walked right to our car.

It gets better.

Nahna calls to tell me where they are waiting for me on Huron. By the time I make all of the twisting turns to the exit gate, I’m wishing I had a barf bag. I find the validated ticket, slide it into the scanner, and the gate doesn’t open.

I push the red button asking for assistance. A lady comes on the speaker and asks me to read the screen. It says something about a coupon. She tells me she is sending someone. An attendant shows up, works his magic, and the gate rises.

Nahna told me to make a right turn out of the deck. When I exit, I do, they see me, but I don’t see them.

Nuclear meltdown number two begins.

I am advised that a series of right turns will bring me back to the one way Huron Street. Of course, because of traffic, I miss the first right turn on to Michigan Avenue.

Nuclear meltdown number three begins, along with the planning for my funeral arrangements back in Richmond.  Nahna has Woody’s on speed dial.

Don’t ask me how, but by the grace of God, I navigated myself back to Huron Street to pick up Nahna and the Princess. I think the two donuts they ate possibly prevented nuclear meltdown number four.

Even better, our son-in-law’s car survived that ordeal without a dent or a scratch.

I’m still wondering how I pushed through 4-way intersections with stop signs, made a wide right turn at a construction intersection with the head of a worker sticking up out of a manhole, and making sure I didn’t go the wrong way on a one-way street.

Thurber was correct that whole set of circumstances was emotional chaos.

Painful at the time, but in the quietness before bed time I chuckle.

And I am thankful too.

I understand my funeral arrangements back in Richmond have been temporarily put on hold.

The guest bedroom was gone. It was now the home of the Princess and her big girl bed. There was no coin toss, but I was assigned to the couch in the living room, and Nahna the inflatable mattress in what would become the bedroom for the new arrival. 

I had slept well, but my internal east coast alarm clock woke me too early to be stirring around the condo. Somehow, I fell back to sleep.

When I awoke, the darkness of the neighborhood was just being graced by light from the east. Thankfully, the predicted snowfall amounts didn’t occur in Lincoln Park. A few traces were scattered up and down the street.

Yesterday, our daughter thought the new baby might return to the womb if the ground had been covered in snow. But, that wasn’t the case. This was to be a day of bright sunshine and blue skies in every direction. But, the non-spring like cold temperatures were still hanging around along with a constant nippy wind.

Slowly, the condo came to life. Breakfast for the Princess came first. While coffee beans were ground, sporadic recanting of the training from the day before filled out the kitchen.

At some point, there was a loud clunk on one of the clear pained living room windows.  I caught a glimpse of a stunned bird. Somehow, the bird recaptured the needed balance and landed in a tree still bare from winter.

The bird appeared to be a downy woodpecker checkered in black and white with a small patch of red on the top of its crown. Perched on a branch in the warming sun, the small woodpecker slowly regained its senses—shuddering a few times before flying off.

Just before nine, our son-in-law whisked the Princess away to an indoor Pee Wee camp at a local fitness center. An action packed morning awaited her with exercise, creating some collectible artwork, and swimming.

While he was doing the drop off, Nahna and I took out the trash and the recycling, made a short walk to mail a couple of letters, and stopped in CVS to buy a newspaper for the new arrival.

When our son-in-law returned, we had one more review of today’s game plan. Our daughter and her husband made a final check of all the things they needed at the hospital. The Uber was ordered, photos taken, hugs exchanged, and they were out the door.

A little bit before 12 noon, Nahna had us organized to go pick up the Princess. The fitness center was near the heart of DePaul University. When we arrived, all of the kids were in the pool working with instructors. Soon, the camp was over, and Nahna knew the drill for securing the Princess for departure.

We made the ride back. I dropped Nahna and the Princess off in front of the condo, got them in, and I left to park the car.

It was nap time for the Princess. After reading a book to her, the Princess zonked out.

Nahna’s phone rang. It was our son-in-law. Excitement filled us. But, he was only letting us know that they were still waiting to get in the operating room. An emergency procedure for another person had bumped them out of their 12 noon slot. So, we were in a delay, a holding pattern.

We briefly heard from our daughter around 1:30 with an update and maybe a hint that they would be heading into the operating room soon.

For the remainder of the afternoon, no matter how I attempted to distract myself, my always present demon, William Worry, was perched up on my shoulder. In every slow tick of the clock, I worried that something was going wrong at the hospital.

Finally at 5:05 p.m. central time, our son-in-law called. Hudson Leo Reinking had arrived. A big boy at 9 pounds 12 ounces and 21 inches in length. It had been a long afternoon, but his report was good.

I was relieved.

Seems like I forgot about the word “Trust” on the back of the tractor-trailer we had passed on Wednesday morning.

The Fairfield Inn treated us well— good sleep. The breakfast spread hit the spot too. After breakfast, we regrouped in the room, then checked out, reloaded the car, topped off the tank, and found our way back to I-65 north.

All along our journey, tractor trailers were traveling on both sides of the interstate in heavy numbers. Sometimes, we even saw flatbed train cars hauling the trailers too.

This morning, I noticed on the back of a trailer from the Danny Herman Trucking Company the following words:

Isaiah 40:30: Trust.

Mr. Herman’s company is based in Mountain City, Tennessee. Scripture references are standard on the back of all of their trailers.

I-65 is straight and flat.  Both sides of the interstate are dominated by farmland. No signs of spring are visible on this gray overcast morning. In fact, if I didn’t know this was April, this morning easily looks and feels like November or February.

From the roadway, singular farmhouses, barns, and fields seem lonely, like they are looking for spring to swoop in for a rescue.

But occasionally, I see a slight sign of spring. A hopeful farmer has given his fields an early plowing turning the dark rich soil over as a message to the remnants of winter—you need to leave, I’m ready to plant.

We continue passing trucks. Soon we are connecting with I-90 that will carry us into Chicago. Behind us are once thriving industrial towns of Gary and Hammond, Indiana. Brief glimpses of Lake Michigan are cast in the distance, and it isn’t long before the skyline of Chicago comes into view.

With minimal unpleasant language from me, we are finally on Lakeshore Drive. Familiar landmarks serve as a reminder of poet, Carl Sandburg, poem “Chicago.” Yes, we are in “the City of Big Shoulders.”

The LaSalle Avenue exit is waiting for us. A few more turns and we stop in front of our destination. The street is deserted. New water pipes had been installed by the city. Per order of the city, no parking is allowed on the street prior to 7 p.m. until repaving is completed.

Our son-in-law is present to help us unload. The goal is one trip. With hands full, we make the hike up the stairs to the third floor.

It is a good aerobic workout, and worth every step. At the top landing, our daughter and granddaughter are waiting. The radiant, expectant mother is about to pop, and our granddaughter is dressed like a princess.

The Commander Supreme, now called Nahna, is quickly out of control with a bag of surprises for the Princess. Her sweet charms as a grandmother work their magical bonding and with no hesitation from the Princess, they are off to play.

After lunch from Potbelly Sandwich Shop, the afternoon is a combination of running errands and instruction. We receive instruction on  everything related to keys, vehicles, technology, and all of the finer details on how to manage the routines of the Princess. I’m told we will be quizzed before the expecting parents depart for the hospital on Thursday.

Gray clouds, no sunshine, below average temperatures, and a brisk wind keep us inside after the running of errands. Plus, the weather forecast called for the late afternoon rain to change to snow with a possible accumulation of 1-3 inches. Local media reports this April in Chicago has been the second coldest on record in 130 years.

Around lunch time, our daughter had received the orders from the doctor and confirmation of when to be at the hospital on Thursday.  After dinner, she and her husband made sure they had everything ready for the trip to the hospital. They were planning to Uber to the hospital.

Large snowflakes were falling steadily as we prepped for bed. I watched the flakes in light cast by streetlights as they tumbled toward the hard surfaces below.

Again, I was ready for some sleep, but thankful for a safe arrival in Chicago, and thankful that Nahna and I are available to help out.

I thought back to the Isaiah scripture reference on the the back of the truck with the word— Trust.

Thursday, April 19 would be a day grounded in trust. Trust that the good Lord would continue the baby journey with our daughter and her husband, and trust that all the medical personnel involved with this birthing are at their best.