When the Kids Came to Play

A big shout-out to Melanie and Amy for their sharp eyes and ability to capture just some of the highlights of our Christmas gathering again this year. It’s a most treasured time of year for the LaCombs and McMahons that we all relish.

It wasn’t just Charlotte doing her best Justin Bieber impression or Brennan wishing for another surfing lesson. Those were just a couple of hints that this year’s visit wasn’t going to be like all the rest. Both families have been coming to Palm Springs to share the holiday season with Nana and Papa for well over eighteen years now. But this year would be different. The urchins have all grown up.

At twelve, fifteen and eighteen respectively, all five grandchildren have moved on into teen status and all of its accompanying edges, attributes, and qualities. They still love to play poker, help Nana with technology, and just lounge around. Yet it’s not like before.

The parents are more comfortable now heading off to wine country and leaving their kids with the ‘rents for a whole day. The kids didn’t notice they were gone with all the time they spent in the pool. They’re old enough to entertain themselves.

A new twist this year was the annual ‘Teddy Bear Toss’ at the hockey arena. All bears and stuffies going to local children’s health facilities.

Ancient Indian culture and folklore got the kid’s attention one morning, with a jigsaw puzzle that afternoon and playing ‘cake’ with headlights on the golf course at night. The next morning it was parent enforced crunch time before hours back in the pool.

One of the many advantages for hikers in the Coachella Valley are the number of mountain trails and other geographically challenging hikes. The Ladder Canyon Trail is considered one of the best hikes in Southern California. The hike weaves through the canyons in the Mecca Hills Wilderness, a rugged series of rock formations and slot canyons created by the San Andreas fault and thousands of years of erosion.

We also found time to celebrate Melanie’s birthday and Papa’s annual ‘staged reading’ play now accompanied by singing and Samantha’s great ukulele playing.

Few words are needed to explain the pride and appreciation Sharon and I feel to be able to provide these experiences for our kids and grandkids. We are very fortunate indeed.

Age is a State of Mind

Age is a state of mind. If you don’t mind, it doesn’t matter. If you care, you’re screwed.

I’m always amused by those soothsayers who’ve decided that since their parents lived long lives, somehow, they’re entitled to the same shot at longevity. Genetics and heredity aside, it doesn’t work that way. It’s a life journey we’re all on and no one has a ticket punched ‘eternity.’

My Mother lived a relatively healthy life until around age ninety then endured several years of gradual decline until her death at age 92. My Father died at age 46 of coronary thrombosis, a heart attack. So which parent will I follow? I’m just days away from 82 so I guess I should be aiming for the nineties like my mother. Oh, if it were only that easy.

One of the newest trends (read hot topic scams) is the hunt for longevity. Every day it seems there’s a new breakthrough on the road to Valhalla.

Too often the commercial focus on longevity gets it all wrong. Living well into old age is not a goal to strive for if good health and mental acuity isn’t present. Without a body that can move around somewhat agile and a mind still curious about life, living into old age is simply an exercise in cheating death for the moment.

Robert Reich (former Secretary of Labor in the Clinton administration) has an interesting piece on aging online. His synopsis on aging had some interesting observations. ‘In 1900, gerontologists considered ‘old’ to be 47. Today, you are considered ‘youngest-old’ at 65, ‘middle-old’ at 75, and at age 85, you are a member of the ‘oldest-old.’ Elderly friend once told Robert there were four ages to life: youth, middle age, old age, and ‘you look great.’

I have a friend, a former doctor, who reads the obituary pages religiously. I asked if he was looking for former patients. ‘Not ready,’ he answered, ‘I’m more curious how long they lasted and what brought them down. Maybe, I suggested, the banner page should read: ‘Older than Me’ or ‘Younger Than Me’ to refocus his real interest in the subject matter at hand.

There seems to be a new topic of conversation with some folks I know. Robert Reich calls it the ‘organ recital.’ The conversation almost inevitably turns to: how’s your back? knees? heart? hip? shoulder? eyesight? hearing? prostate? hemorrhoids? digestion? and the list can go on and on.

I’ve been extremely lucky in that I still have all my original body parts. After 47 years of running including three marathons, several attempted long-distance runs (over 50 miles) and countless trail runs, my joints, limbs, and extremities all seem to still be in reasonable working order. Whether that’s because of genetics or the support of walking sticks and knee braces on long hikes, I’m still going slow and easy and long.

One philosophy I try to adhere to religiously is the theme of keeping one’s mind active and body moving. There’s no time limit on one’s curiosity or one’s ability to find wonder in the little things around us. As we age, a lot of those things that mattered before like pop entertainment, political clowns and the weather lose a lot of their luster in the dawn of another brand-new day.

As I’ve repeatedly told friends, I have never looked forward to my afternoon at the gym but I’ve always felt one hundred percent better having completed my routines there. So, in a word, the secret is to keep moving; mentally and physically. The grim reaper may be coming around the corner but I’m going to give him/her one hell of a run for their effort to catch me.

Creating A Monster

Over the holidays, the kids and I were reminiscing about the strange menagerie of pets they had growing up. From a turtle that was supposed to live forever to bunnies that died after Easter, the list was a bit unconventional. We also had parrots and cockatiels, an errant snake and plenty of fish (life expectancy of one week). Over the years, the animals came and went and none held on for very long.

Living on a golf course has provided Sharon and I with another kind of menagerie. Over the years, we’ve played host to a wide variety of desert creatures.

Road runners would occasionally amble through our yard. Herons and geese were more elusive, if for no other reason, than the whirly coyote always on the hunt for them. Mountain lions and bobcats were even scarcer and seldom seen in daylight but they were there. Coyotes were around day and night.

This Christmas, the kids were awakened around 3:00am by a pair of coyotes digging frantically under my shed looking for rabbits. Those predators left quite an impressive hole in the ground.

It’s not unusual to find animal tracks in our sand and sometimes scat there too. I’ve often thought it would be fun to have a night camera to catch the animal action that happens long after we’ve gone to bed.

Now the main attraction seems to be coming from our winged neighbors, hence the monster I speak of.

My first introduction to our winged neighbors began with a set of hummingbird feeders we placed strategically in our backyard. Soon, nests began to appear and the tiny families moved in.

A bird bath began to attract even more larger birds and the final step was a plastic container filled with bird food. I got into the habit of filling it each morning and hence the monster was born.

There seems to be a kind of caste system going on here. First, the small birds find that the tray is full again. They begin congregating and enjoying the mornings feast. All it takes is for one dove to appear and the scramble is on. More doves appear very quickly and soon the tray is swamped by all forms of winged hungry eaters. That’s when the caste system kicks in.

There are several large doves who usually appear after the feeding frenzy is on full-tilt. They’re mean, obnoxious bullies who push and shove and wing-flap the other birds away. The jockeying for someplace to eat never works when they’re around. It’s a free for all and the larger doves edge out the smaller birds for the best spot to gouge themselves. I’ve tried to capture this scene in a video clip or photo but I can’t get close enough without them scattering to the winds.

I have a little buddy who often sits with me to watch this social strategizing going on. He seems content to let the bigger birds fight their morning fight since he has their own feeder just a wing flit away.

Of course, an outsider might surmise that this is what happens when one has time on their hands, ravenous birds to entertain him and a background setting that can’t be beat.

I am one lucky guy….so say the birds and me.