I am not a very good blogger. That much is obvious because I have only blogged twice so far. When we lived far from family I was good about sending out updates with more than enough pictures. Now I don't even contribute to the family blog which Elizabeth has single handedly maintained.
I promised Elizabeth that I would blog more ( hey, tonight on Conan O'Brien, Anderson Cooper said one of his new years resolutions was to blog more. If that is a worthy goal of Anderson Cooper of CNN's 360 with Anderson Cooper, than it should be good enough for me, especially when Elizabeth has paved the way and set a good example for me.)
I'm just going to mention a few recent highlights.
1. Skiing
Last week I got to go skiing three times. I am so happy to be back in Utah after so many years, not just to ski often but to ski in great company. The resort of my youth, Solitude has welcomed me back with open arms. In 1990 I almost died 300 yards from (4000 cubans trained to kill me) sorry I can't go more than a few months without a Jack Nick Guantanomo shout out, especially the day Castro stepped down. No 300 yards from the entrance to Solitude in a head-on collision. Now I occasionally help out in the medical clinic there, the highlight being that I ski there. That place is incredible, there is never a lift line I don't know how they stay in business.
Last week somehow I got to ski three days. Elizabeth is amazing to let me go that much (that is much more than usual). Most of the time she is very encouraging for me to go but at times there are minor conflicts/compromises. It was true that last wednesday I would have liked to attend the midweek, mainly women, gospel doctrine class with her (it has been a fun thing to do together and an incredibly taught, spiritually stimulating class) but I went skiing. I wouldn't say that in general skiing is more important than that class but I can't deny that I made the choice how to spend my time that day. (the discussion of how little choices demonstrate our true priorities is the subject for another blog.) But how many people have a mother in law like I do who calls in the morning and says, "Andrew, you're not working today, its a beautiful day, shouldn't you be up skiing on a day like this?" She vicariously enjoys a good ski day if just one person in her family has been up there.
It was my brother Alex's birthday, so he and I and Liza went skiing. It was very cool day on the smoothest snow I've ever felt, like roller blading on the repeated cruisers we took. They had both gotten very good since we last skied together. There is nothing quite like working an overnight shift and then helping get kids off to school and then going skiing. You're pretty tired until you get onto the hill. Fortunately no injuries. Thanks guys for getting some Beyonce song in my head that whole day, "to the left, to the left." Would I have let that happen had I slept the night before?
Then later in the week back to Solitude with David and Rich, my brothers in law after they finished morning classes and a genetics test. Fortunately they have started keeping their skis out of the air, and are less dangerous influences on me now as we are aging in our helmets. Riding up Summit is a flashback to highschool for all of us down to the songs we liked, the coats we wore with just a touch of flourescent trim. The first cliffs we had taken etc. We took one traverse over and over the whole day of very deep fresh powder. We wore each other out and then came home fulfilled.
Then the grand finale was Saturday with Abby and Isaac. They were so fun and continue to progress quickly, to the point where I can actually handle the two of them by myself on a full run. I fulfilled Isaac's continued requests for "more jumps and deep powder" by taking him between my legs as I rolled over the jumps in the terrain park and elevated him off the jumps. One of these days I'll let go in the air and let him take flight. The conversations on the lift were amazing as usual as they look down at people and trees. The pocket full of peppermint patties still left them wanting more after several rounds.
2 Basketball:
Elizabeth and I watched the NBA All star Slam Dunk Contest together that I had recorded. I have been watching too many Jazz games. During that time I could have been blogging, reading scriptures, reading medicine, organizing family video tapes, folding laundry- well I did do that but is a pile of folded clothes on the couch in more helpful than unfolded in the basket in the basement? People may have differing opinions on that one.
The expression that made my week was made by the boyfriend of Elizabeth's sister Emily. As he watched the return of Dick Vitale to broadcasting after vocal cord surgery, just in time to commentate the " greatest rivalry in all of college sports", stood in Awe of Elizabeth that she had actually attended a Duke-Carolina game. Best of all it was in Cameron Indoor Stadium after she was required to camp out and meet proper entry requirements.
3. Funerals:
Enough has been said about President Hinckley and his funeral, very inspiring to me in every way. Lulu's funeral was also inspiring. I loved Elizabeth's talk and was again reminded of the amazing relationship she had with her grandmother. I had six grandparents counting step grandparents and seven if you count ex-step grandparents, which I do since I visited her on my mission in seattle and tried to get her to come back to church, somewhat successfully. Among those grandparents I loved them all, several have passed away, but I can't say that I ever experienced the closeness and intimacy that Elizabeth describes with Lulu. I am grateful that my children have been able to grow closer to their grandparents than I ever had the chance. I could write volumes about that contrast.
4. Helmet:
Is it a good idea to let your 8 month old roll around on a hard tile floor? What if he is wearing a helmet? Peter occasionally rolls across the carpet and into the kitchen and can be seen and heard, maneuvering around with his helmet crashing across the tile, completely happy, smiling as he goes, oblivious to the trauma he is narrowly avoiding.
The other day Isaac, the responsible older brother that he is called, "Mom, Mom, Peter keeps bumping his head against the new shelf... his helmet is denting the wood!" Fortunately we have instilled in him a sense of what is truly important in life... fine wood and quality finishes.
Well now I am going to go to bed. If anyone is still reading, well probably only you are Elizabeth, but now you won't ever encourage me to blog again.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Monday, February 11, 2008
From the Mouth of Babes....
Between President Hinckley and my grandma dying over the past two weeks, our kids have been pretty inundated with funeral talk.
I didn't realize how much they had been picking up on however, until Isaac brought me his stuffed teddy bear, with a flower pinned on it and announced, "Look Mom, it's a Paul Bear."
Isaac's Paul Bear
Lulu's Pallbearers
Friday, February 8, 2008
Remembering Lulu
Growing up, I was lucky enough to live just four blocks away from my grandma, "Lulu". This meant that I saw her several times a week and her presence was huge part of my formative years. Lulu was a constant in my childhood. She was a dear friend, a confidant and an amazing grandma.
Over the past several years, her health had declined - her eyesight had failed, she had lost most of hearing, and it had been years since she'd been able to walk without significant pain. Her quality of life had diminished but on Monday night, when my mom called to tell me that Lulu was dying, it was difficult to imagine my world without Lulu in it.
As a child, every Sunday dinner, Christmas Eve and Easter was at Lulu's house. I can still remember the incredible aroma that hit the moment her front door was opened. Fresh rolls, roasted turkey or ham, and my favorite side-dish, sour cream noodle casserole. We always had a relish tray as part of the meal and no Sunday dinner was complete without the kids sticking olives on their fingers and waving across the table at each other.
A trip to Lulu's house always meant a visit to the cookie cupboard and a peek inside the candy tin. Summer evenings were spent eating ice cream on her patio. Lulu had a sweet tooth and she was always willing to share.
Summertime meant trips to the cabin. I remember the watermelon cooling in the stream next to the cabin, huge breakfasts every morning and skipping rocks across the river. I remember on hot summer afternoons, sitting on a rock on the edge of the stream with Lulu, soaking our feet in the cool water. Lulu and I always shared a bed at the cabin. I remember lying in bed at night, listening to the river splash over the rocks and waiting to hear Lulu’s footsteps on the stairs as she came up to bed. Then I would pretend to be asleep and wait for her to get in bed next to me so I could curl up next to her and get warm. Some nights she would lie in bed with me and tell me stories about when she was a little girl.
I believe I inherited my love of reading from Lulu. She often told me that she spent many nights as a girl curled up under the covers with a book and a flashlight - reading late into the night. She also said of January: "The holidays are over and it's too early to start spring cleaning, so the only thing to do is to curl up with a good book." When I was in eigth grade she gave me her copy of "Gone With the Wind" and I fell in love with it. I stayed up all night reading that book and finished the whole thing in less than a week. I loved that book and loved Lulu for giving it to me.
Lulu died on Tuesday, February 5th at the age of 95. I am grateful to know that she has left her failing body and that she has been reunited with so many family and friends who have been gone for so long. But, I am also mourning and missing the grandma of my childhood.
As the oldest grandchild, I was asked to speak at her funeral yesterday. Over the past couple of days, memories have come flooding back to me and I have been grateful for the chnace I have had to reflect on her life and on my relationship with her.
One thing I kept remembering was how Lulu loved the blue sky. When I was young I would sing a song with her. She would sing, “The sky is bluer than it’s ever been” and I would sing back, “No it isn’t.” “Yes, it is” she would say. “No it isn’t” would reply. This would go on and on and on. It was a silly childhood game, but from it came my love of blue skies. Since that time, no matter where I've been, whenever there was a crystal blue sky I have thought of Lulu and said to myself, “The sky is bluer than it’s ever been.”
On Wednesday night as I was preparing my talk for the funeral, I was going through some boxes of old papers. I came across a note Lulu had written to me about ten years ago while I was living in Washington, DC. She wrote: "Elizabeth, dear - The sky has been so blue, I have been thinking of you. I tried singing by myself but it didn't work."
In the coming days and years, I will miss singing with Lulu - and it won't be the same singing by myself, but I know that whenever I see a blue sky I will think of her and hear her singing in my ear, "The sky is bluer than it's ever been." I look forward to seeing her again someday and singing and laughing and talking with her. I am so grateful for Lulu and for the 36 years that she loved me so well.
Over the past several years, her health had declined - her eyesight had failed, she had lost most of hearing, and it had been years since she'd been able to walk without significant pain. Her quality of life had diminished but on Monday night, when my mom called to tell me that Lulu was dying, it was difficult to imagine my world without Lulu in it.
As a child, every Sunday dinner, Christmas Eve and Easter was at Lulu's house. I can still remember the incredible aroma that hit the moment her front door was opened. Fresh rolls, roasted turkey or ham, and my favorite side-dish, sour cream noodle casserole. We always had a relish tray as part of the meal and no Sunday dinner was complete without the kids sticking olives on their fingers and waving across the table at each other.
A trip to Lulu's house always meant a visit to the cookie cupboard and a peek inside the candy tin. Summer evenings were spent eating ice cream on her patio. Lulu had a sweet tooth and she was always willing to share.
Summertime meant trips to the cabin. I remember the watermelon cooling in the stream next to the cabin, huge breakfasts every morning and skipping rocks across the river. I remember on hot summer afternoons, sitting on a rock on the edge of the stream with Lulu, soaking our feet in the cool water. Lulu and I always shared a bed at the cabin. I remember lying in bed at night, listening to the river splash over the rocks and waiting to hear Lulu’s footsteps on the stairs as she came up to bed. Then I would pretend to be asleep and wait for her to get in bed next to me so I could curl up next to her and get warm. Some nights she would lie in bed with me and tell me stories about when she was a little girl.
I believe I inherited my love of reading from Lulu. She often told me that she spent many nights as a girl curled up under the covers with a book and a flashlight - reading late into the night. She also said of January: "The holidays are over and it's too early to start spring cleaning, so the only thing to do is to curl up with a good book." When I was in eigth grade she gave me her copy of "Gone With the Wind" and I fell in love with it. I stayed up all night reading that book and finished the whole thing in less than a week. I loved that book and loved Lulu for giving it to me.
Lulu died on Tuesday, February 5th at the age of 95. I am grateful to know that she has left her failing body and that she has been reunited with so many family and friends who have been gone for so long. But, I am also mourning and missing the grandma of my childhood.
As the oldest grandchild, I was asked to speak at her funeral yesterday. Over the past couple of days, memories have come flooding back to me and I have been grateful for the chnace I have had to reflect on her life and on my relationship with her.
One thing I kept remembering was how Lulu loved the blue sky. When I was young I would sing a song with her. She would sing, “The sky is bluer than it’s ever been” and I would sing back, “No it isn’t.” “Yes, it is” she would say. “No it isn’t” would reply. This would go on and on and on. It was a silly childhood game, but from it came my love of blue skies. Since that time, no matter where I've been, whenever there was a crystal blue sky I have thought of Lulu and said to myself, “The sky is bluer than it’s ever been.”
On Wednesday night as I was preparing my talk for the funeral, I was going through some boxes of old papers. I came across a note Lulu had written to me about ten years ago while I was living in Washington, DC. She wrote: "Elizabeth, dear - The sky has been so blue, I have been thinking of you. I tried singing by myself but it didn't work."
In the coming days and years, I will miss singing with Lulu - and it won't be the same singing by myself, but I know that whenever I see a blue sky I will think of her and hear her singing in my ear, "The sky is bluer than it's ever been." I look forward to seeing her again someday and singing and laughing and talking with her. I am so grateful for Lulu and for the 36 years that she loved me so well.
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