Will you still need me, will you still feed me, when I’m 64? (The Beatles)
YES! Happy Birthday, David, love of my life!
Will you still need me, will you still feed me, when I’m 64? (The Beatles)
YES! Happy Birthday, David, love of my life!
I didn’t really want to delete this pretty lilac photo, so I’m leaving in the first part of this post, even though it was written a few weeks ago and is COMPLETELY inaccurate now. I’m afraid after realizing I didn’t have a few of the photos I wanted, I put it on hold until I could get out and take a few more, but I took longer than I had intended to get back to this. My apologies! (I’ve added a few corrections and comments to make it more current):
The lilacs are mostly finished . . . (DEFINITELY long gone now). . . but other flowers have come into their own. I do love the last bit of spring, when the weather feels almost like summer, but we’re not actually roasting (Um . . . we are now officially roasting). The evenings on the deck are getting to be standard fare, but not quite enough that the mosquitoes anticipate our presence and get there first (I’m afraid they’re starting to catch on). We’re making plans for all the great things we’re going to do during the summer and not yet dreading the crammed fall schedule. Anything seems possible (hence, the now-crammed SUMMER schedule),
Ah, well. Love it. Summer officially arrived Monday evening, and we plan to take full advantage of it.
One of the things we missed while in France and on our extended east coast road trip was taking Harley trips with our neighborhood friends. The first overnight trip of the summer was a few weeks ago, and although we didn’t go for the overnight, we did ride up the Poudre Canyon with them as far as the Arrowhead Lodge Visitor Center . . . ↓
This fabulous place is now a National Historic Site and a Forest Service Visitor Center, but it used to be a guest resort with log cabins and was the childhood home of our dear friend, Christy French. Can’t believe I didn’t get a shot of anything but the sign. Sheesh. Sorry!
After we waved goodbye to our friends and let them continue on up over the pass, we headed back down the road a few miles for lunch here . . . ↓
It may not look like fine dining, but the quirky set of characters manning this trailer serve amazing burgers and, if you’re lucky, keep you entertained with running commentary on the birds, the bears, the weather, the tourists, and most amusing, each other.
After lunch, we decided to take a longer, scenic route home — in France called le chemin des écoliers (literally “the route of schoolboys” meaning of course, the longest possible route), which took us behind and eventually up and around the south end of Horsetooth Reservoir . . . ↓
We also recently bought bikes (with actual pedals, requiring exertion by the rider) . . . ↓
. . . to add some variety to our exercise options. The same day as this first long Harley ride, we decided to try out our new bikes. Really poor planning. Our . . . um . . . nether regions were NOT HAPPY. We went back to the bike shop and bought padded shorts the next day! Now we can ride all the way to Old Town, and generally do, every Saturday.
But now, I very much wish I did not have to tell you about one person who, in a perfect world, would be riding his bike this summer, but is not currently able to do that. I’m sorry to report that Sam Glossi’s cancer has come back and he is in the middle of a series of chemo treatments and enduring the brutal side effects.
←Here he is just after his pre-chemo “Just Like Dad” haircut.
And here he is excited to be able, finally, to eat bread after a tough week of no solid food. →
Love this photo, because he’s seriously adorable, obviously, but also because I routinely have that exact same emotion about the prospect of eating bread!
His smiles are tiny moments of respite and joy, but I know you understand that this is a really hard summer for the entire Glossi clan. Please keep Sam and his family in your thoughts and prayers.
Joy is prayer; joy is strength; joy is love . . . . ·Mother Theresa
It is not how much you do, but how much love you put into the doing. ·Mother Theresa
Hope is being able to see that there is light despite all of the darkness. ·Desmond Tutu
Prayer is not asking. It is a longing of the soul. It is daily admission of one’s weakness. It is better in prayer to have a heart without words than words without a heart. · Mahatma Ghandi
Wishing you all, and especially Sam, comfort, healing, peace, joy.
My dad’s struggle is over at last. He died Sunday evening, the 1st of May, at the age of 84, his wife by his side. I am so grateful that I had an opportunity in recent years to spend a little more time with him, and especially that I was able to say goodbye a few weeks ago. So it seems like the perfect time to write a post honoring and remembering my dad, highlighting those ways he influenced or inspired me.
I was looking through a photo album for the picture of Dad that you see above, and also found this one, the wedding photo of Dad’s parents, which I’m including mostly because it’s one of my favorite family photos.
Don’t you love it? The lace, the Harry Potter glasses, the bouquet with the streaming ribbons. And, seriously? How fab is that braided headband?
But now, out of the photo studio and into the woods . . . . Some of my earliest memories are of family hikes in the state parks of the American Midwest, mostly Indiana. Dad was a dedicated hiker, even up until just a few years ago, but it was never about just the fresh air and exercise. For him to really enjoy it, he had to know as many arcane details as possible about the history of an area, the flora, the fauna, the geology, whatever. And he would be delighted to share this information with anyone who’d listen. You just had to have a spare hour or so. My brothers and I learned not to ask him any question, no matter how seemingly simple, unless we had at least half an hour. Still, his enthusiasm was endearing, if not always completely contagious. I can’t identify many trees, but I do love the hardwood forests.
I think my dad also passed on to me, if not exactly a LOVE of math, at least a reasonable aptitude for it. You’ve probably never met anyone as excited about a slide rule as he could be (and you certainly won’t in THIS century). Although I always preferred the crisp, clean lines and logic of geometry, math skills do come in handy sometimes, so thanks, Dad.
Dad also had a deep appreciation for classical music, a taste as children we did not share, especially since our main exposure to it was by way of a static-filled University of Illinois radio station during the seemingly interminable half-hour drive to church in downtown Indianapolis, crammed into the backseat and wearing our scratchy, uncomfortable church clothes. On the plus side, he had quite an album collection, so I pretty much aced every Music Memory test during my years in the Indianapolis public school system, and I always did love acing tests. Ironic, in light of my early loathing, that I would choose to get a degree in music and develop a love for nearly all genres of music, including classical.
But probably the most inspiring thing about Dad was his refusal to ever give up. For as long as possible, my dad was not one to let age keep him from his goals. He earned his MBA at 41 and was nearly 60 when he earned his doctorate. Then, after many years as an industrial engineer, followed by a few years as an adjunct professor, he traveled and worked his third career as a Contract Auditor / Trainer / Consultant for ISO 9001 (and several others with more letters and numbers than you could possibly be interested in wading through). He continued this until age 80, when the company wouldn’t send him out on any more assignments. I never did succeed in convincing him it was perfectly reasonable to be retired by the time you’re in your 80’s. Not sure I can live up to this one, Dad!
But now he’s gone. Our house is filled with flowers . . .
. . . courtesy of kind friends and family.
Expressing love was not his strong suit–too much engineer brain, maybe–but the message eventually got through. And I’m pretty sure he’s the only person who has ever called me Princess and meant it as an affectionate nickname and not an insult!
Goodbye, dear Dad. You will always be in my heart.
The song is ended but the melody lingers on…
—Sir Walter Scott
It’s been a long and challenging few months, and while we’re no longer in the grip of the bleak mid-winter, as I write this, snow is blowing like mad outside, but the green golf course out behind our house is so far refusing to let it stick. It’s actually a pretty accurate picture of life since my last post–hard times and endurance, death and new life, sadness and hope, endings and beginnings.
Babies have been born* and parties have been enjoyed, but also an unusually large number of really hard things have happened to so many we love and to many around the world. My heart goes out to the many friends who have lost parents or spouses in recent months–or been told that time is near.
Dear Mariann, Tom Glossi’s mom, is gone from us . . .
. . . but not before hearing the amazing news that her great-grandson Sam was cancer-free and didn’t even need chemo.
Very shortly after that, I learned that my dad was suffering from congestive heart failure, reduced lung function, and a few other things and not expected to last long. I was very grateful that David and I were able to jump in the car and head down to Albuquerque to see him in the hospital. You’ll excuse the lack of photo of him in his hospital gown, I’m sure! Dad has stabilized a bit for now, but we headed back down a second time a few weeks later for an important meeting about his care needs. Good to see him smiling occasionally, but it is not easy for him–or any of us.
Albuquerque soothed my grieving soul a bit by being beautiful and warm and further along with spring than Colorado.
After one particularly emotional visit, David drove us out to the prettier parts on the edge of town and we found ourselves back at the beautiful Casa Rondeña Winery. It seemed fitting, since we had discovered this place on our first Albuquerque visit to Dad, so we pulled in, bought a little picnic for out back and raised a glass in honor of my dad. Just what I needed, soaking up the peace, watching the blossoms drift and dance in the breeze around the stone ballerina.
The day after we got back to Colorado, it was off to DC for a much happier event, Chelsea and Will’s engagement party.
Courtney was able to bring Bailey and Felicity along. Here they are giving you the completely erroneous impression that it was both warm and uncrowded. NOT true. Felicity is just a tough Minnesotan! And we grabbed a tiny break in the crowd to shoot this photo. But they were troopers, walking all day both Thursday and Friday without complaint, except when lunch was a bit late and we hadn’t yet settled on a restaurant!
But even on the brisk, wet days, the blooming trees reminded us that it is actually spring, and warmer days are ahead.
Saturday, the women went with Chelsea to Georgetown to watch her try on wedding dresses. Will’s mom, Ellen, took the beautiful shot below.
David stayed back to babysit, a bit longer than he expected. HOURS later, he texted Courtney, “I’m DONE.” Fortunately, we had already finished at the shop, stopped for a celebratory drink, and were nearly home!
Short break to get ready, then on to the party!
Chelsea kept teasing David that he was going to confuse everyone about which one of them was the bride!
Are you exhausted yet? We are! David and I flew home Monday and almost immediately came down with some flu thing that so far will not leave, so my apologies for being out of touch. You are in our hearts, as always, especially if you are one of those in the middle of a tough season.
There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens: a time to be born and a time to die . . . a time to weep and a time to laugh . . . a time to mourn and a time to dance . . . .
∼ excerpt from Ecclesiastes 3
The snow surprises us sometimes, even in the middle of spring, but fortunately, some flowers bloom even up through the snow.
Wishing you good news and celebrations, and in their absence, flowers, warmth, comfort and peace.
*Welcome, Case French, brand new grandson of dear friends Tom and Christy French!