Ralph

Old Yeller was one of only a handful of movies I saw with my parents. That was sixty-some years ago, but ever since then, there has been a special place in my heart for golden retrievers. So when I learned that Bootsie had developed an interest in dogs, it seemed only natural that I should get her a golden retriever for her tenth birthday last Oct. 4.

"Ralph," as she named him, is absolutely the most realistic stuffed dog I have ever seen. So much so that it gave both her and me a start when we opened the shipping box to see him lying there so quiet and still.

When Christmas came along several months later, I was able to add to Bootsie's "doggie" collection with a Hobby Lobby poodle painting for her newly remodeled room and a shiny beagle pendant to wear around her neck. Although she shows an interest in animals in general, she has a special affinity for dogs right now. 

It is not hard to take a fantasy peek into the future and see Bootsie as a veterinarian. I can imagine her dressed in her crisp white jacket and standing beside an exam table where some future dog looks to her for an inoculation, a check-up, or maybe some heartworm medication. She speaks soothingly as she rubs his scruffy ears. The dog trusts her at once because she speaks his language.

As with so many things last year, our travels to celebrate Bootsie's birthday were pushed to a couple weeks after the fact due to delays imposed by the coronavirus. But when we finally made it to the party, Ralph came along with us to make the occasion extra special.

Another event I missed was the opportunity to see Bootsie as a young Cratchit daughter in her school's presentation of Dickens' A Christmas Carol. So maybe if vet school doesn't work out, she can pursue Plan B as an actress. 

Whatever the case, she is bright and talented enough to go after whatever she wants in this world. Though I can't be certain at this point what that will be, I do know that this world will be a better place because she is in it.

Pa-pa's Boy

This boy.

In a world that has now circled the sun in the oppressive, uncertain cosmos of pandemic, this little guy has wrapped us in the soothing light of laughter and love. It had been six years since our flurry of six grandkids arrived in a span of six years. Everyone was finally in school. I had sold my baby bed and high chair.

Although the pandemic has kept our families apart more than we would've liked, it has not kept us from bonding with this newest grandson during his baby months. But the neatest thing has been to watch him interact with Pa-pa, even as early as that first Christmas, when he was only three months old. From the very beginning, our little Packee has been (mostly) Pa-pa's boy.

Anytime Packee gets a look at Pa-pa, or hears his voice, he lurches out from whomever is holding him at the moment, reaching his little arms out for Pa-pa to take him. He demands a place on Pa-pa's lap to drive the pontoon or the golf cart. He gets a bead on Pa-pa and runs toward him as fast as his little legs will carry him. And one of his earliest words? "Pa-pa," of course.

As you might imagine, Pa-pa dearly loves everything about this. In time, he bonded with all the other kids as well, but it was usually when they were a bit older. These guys, on the other hand, have been bosom buddies since Packee was born.

Last Sept. 30, when Packee turned one year old, his family was quarantined, so we got to see him with the official chocolate cake only on FaceTime. 

But a couple weeks later we were able to again visit his family and take him a special present, made just for a one-year-old ready to go mobile.

At this writing Packee is just over sixteen months old. He is adding to his vocabulary every day, and is starting to like books, something I have been waiting patiently for. When I saw him last week, he was particularly fond of a farm animal book, complete with fur to rub and buttons to push for sound. His little high-pitched "doodle-doo" when we turn to the rooster page is the cutest thing I have ever heard. 

The long baby hair of the photos above is now trimmed into an official little-boy haircut. He is almost old enough to come and stay with me and Pa-pa for a few days. I am really looking forward to that. 

Of course, I may have to build up my muscles so that I can wrestle him away from Pa-pa once in a while. He may be Pa-pa's boy now, but I intend to see if I can work my way up to equal rank--or at least come in a close second. That would be fine with me.  

    

Breaking Records

It's too bad the Guinness World Records people were not here in the lake area last week to observe the phenomenon of record breaking in action. I can't help thinking even they would have been impressed. I say this because, for a glorious stretch of eight days, all seven grandkids were here at one time or another--and sometimes all at once. It is an understatement to call it a super-busy time at Googie's.

Because of the Covid-19 pandemic, our summer adventures have a unusual feel and demand a revamped routine. There are no daily trips to kids' enrichment camps or courses at our nearby college. There will be no carnival ride wristbands for the Missouri State Fair. No corn dogs or funnel cakes or snow cones either, and no visit to Otto, the talking patrol car. Virtually every event of our typical summer is cancelled or drastically modified.

And that is okay, because we have the lake. With the exception of baby Packee, the kids are just the right ages to enjoy swimming, tubing, fishing, and all the other activities our lake offers. They can walk along the Osage River down at the harbor and venture out across the swinging bridge toward any of several scenic hiking trails there. Before the summer is over, we hope to have a couple new water skiers in the family.

When four to five children between ages eight and thirteen stay with you day and night for a week, this is when the aforementioned record breaking occurs. Among new records established in our household last week were the following:

• Sheer amount of food consumption
• Number of trips to Walmart grocery pickup
• Rolls of toilet paper used
• Number of consecutive late nights spent watching Perry Mason
• Number of consecutive nights Googie sang "Little White Duck" at bedtime (Will I still be doing this when all of them are teenagers?)
• Number of wet towels on the floor of the laundry room
• Loads of laundry washed, dried, and folded
• Number of (very) ripe bananas converted into banana bread in a single evening.

Aided by the uncertainties and negative effects posed by the virus, I seem to have set a couple records of my own. For instance, this is my first post in "Googie's Attic" since March 25, nearly four months ago. That is my longest dry spell since I began the blog in March 2011. Most unforgivable, however, is the fact that Zoomie's eighth and Sooby's thirteenth birthdays scooted by on June 25 and 30 with no acknowledgment. Pa-pa and I were at their house for the celebrations, but I just didn't get around to recording them here. I will do my best to make up for that here and how. 

Thirteen, Sooby? How can that be? When I started the blog nine years ago, you were only four. At some point between then and now, you grew into a young lady who plays piano and cello, loves to bake, and is among seventeen finalists qualifying for the Kansas state champion spelling bee next weekend. You are an artistic and creative force to be reckoned with, Sooby, and whatever form eighth grade takes for you this fall, Pa-pa and I are sure you will rock it.

And you, Zoomie. You held the spot as the youngest kid in your family for over seven years, but you have relinquished that position with grace and (most of the time) maturity. You are old enough to entertain us with your jokes and antics, but not too old (yet) to give us some good snuggles. You have mastered the task of dealing with your allergies to dairy and tree nuts like a trooper, accepting that your brothers and sisters can sometimes have treats that you can't. Pa-pa and I can't wait to see what new things you learn in third grade.

Here you are about to open the present you asked me for several months ago. You may be the only eight-year-old in the Midwest to have his own . . . poker set. I imagine that you and your brother Pooh will be practicing the techniques needed to hold 'em, fold 'em, and do a fair amount of bluffing in the process.

As this record-breaking summer of 2020 continues to challenge us at every turn, I am reminded constantly that the closeness of our family makes it bearable. I have only to look at seven little faces to know that, in spite of it all, I am truly blessed.   

  

 

 

The Heliball

If I hadn't taken Pa-pa to Target with me to shop for a birthday present for Beenie, I might never have met the heliball. While I was perusing an adjoining aisle for durable boy toys like skateboards and such, Pa-pa spotted the heliball and pushed the button to start a demonstration video located near the display on the toy shelf.

"Come over here and look at this," he said. "This looks like fun."

Looking dubiously at the heliball in its package, I was not initially impressed. It appeared to be a small, fragile-looking hard plastic sphere, about the size of a baseball and topped with paper-thin plastic propellers. But at the same time, I was kind of fascinated by what I saw. So, wrestling down my better judgment, we made the purchase and headed home to try it. I wanted to have it figured out so that I could show Beenie how to work it.

The heliball, I learned, is an LED-lit ball that takes off into the air once it is fully charged and the "on" switch on the bottom is flipped. Equipped with sensors on top and bottom, it whirs around the room as the operator tries to control its movement with a hand just above or below it, or a foot just underneath. The sensors steer it in the opposite direction, saving it from crashing. Usually.

One of the first things I learned was to hold the heliball vertically straight with your fingers around it rather with your hand cupped on the bottom. If you don't, the bottom sensor will be confused, and the heliball will take off erratically and in a way that is impossible to control. As a result, it will crash, and that can be hard on its flimsy little propellers. Here, Beenie demonstrates the WRONG way to hold the heliball as you flip the "on" switch and prepare to release it.

If you hold the heliball correctly for takeoff, it will spin off into the air around you, where you can exercise the proper controls. Here, Beenie waves a hand underneath to keep the ball from going lower.

While the heliball is flying, watch carefully and follow it closely so that you can keep it in safe flying territory if possible.

The heliball will come down if it goes high enough for the top sensor to recognize the ceiling. But if your ceiling is extremely high, it is better to keep the ball in a position where you can get a hand above or below as needed.

If the heliball moves away from you, follow it so that you can be right on the scene if it decides to take a detour.

After a reasonable flight, both you and the heliball will be ready for a break. Catching it while in flight takes a little practice. Here, Beenie gets in position to make the catch.

Catch the heliball by gripping it with one hand as you would if you were preparing to unscrew a light bulb. Here, Beenie makes a perfect catch.

He is now ready to put the heliball back on its charger for a while. You can figure on five to seven minutes of play for every twenty or so minutes on the charger.

I honestly don't know if it was Beenie or I who had the most fun with the heliball, but it turned out to be a great addition to his eighth birthday celebration, In fact, the heliball is recommended for children eight years old and above, although Heero, who is six, had a couple pretty good flights with it, too.

It is better to turn a kid loose with the heliball after some explanation and demonstration. This keeps the kid from getting frustrated and the heliball from meeting an untimely demise, which I imagine sometimes happens.

The enclosed instructions explain a way to actually control the heliball with a TV remote, like some kind of colorful little living room drone. We didn't try this ourselves; that is for the more electronically capable than I. But Beenie, Pa-pa and I recommend the heliball if you need a creative gift idea that is just a little out of the ordinary for a kid who is quite extraordinary himself.

Sabotaged by a Monster

When baby Packee was born last fall, I had such plans.  I was going to be there for all those monthly baby milestones--the turning over, the giggling, the sitting up. I was going to see him often and use him as an excuse to spend more time with his brothers and sisters as well.

Packee arrived after a six-year lull in grandkid production. Since he might be the last one, I was going to pinch those fat thighs to my heart's content and once more perform my entire repertoire of silly noises. I would kiss those chubby cheeks and feel the sweet weight of that little head on my shoulder while he slept.

The first four months of my plan went by the playbook. But when I waved goodbye to him on Feb. 1, who would have dreamed it would be months before I would see him again? Worse yet, I don't know how many of these precious months this long wait will stretch out to consume. The monster COVID-19 has changed not only plans but normal daily routine.

That is all the whining I am going to do. I look around and see others affected so much more adversely than is this old lady who just wants to snuggle a grandbaby. Thousands of people are sick, and medical responders are caught up in a rat race. High school seniors are missing those last spring activities, and even graduation ceremonies look uncertain. Weddings and funerals, the rituals of life itself, are on hold. Senior adults in care facilities can't see their families. For many, this pandemic is so much more than a mere inconvenience.

But today, in the midst of all of this, I celebrate the day Packee turns six months old. The highlight of my day is when my daughter texts me pictures like these:

  

I like to think that, in this last one, the reason Packee looks so serious is because he is wondering where his Googie is. Thankfully, he is too little to know about monsters.

I am here, sweet baby, just waiting for the monster to relent so I can come see you again. Until then, stay healthy,  practice your skills of self defense, and warn your brothers and sisters. There are a lot of pent-up squeezes around here just waiting to be released.

Beenie's Birthday Puzzles

Question: What does the Rubik's Cube have in common with the coronavirus?

Answer: They have both been major shaping forces in the celebration of Beenie's birthday.

At first glance, this photo might look like any typical boy getting ready to blow out eight candles atop the red velvet cake his mama made (at his request).

But a closer look at the circumstances surrounding Beenie's eighth birthday reveals more unusual goings-on than meet the eye.

In recent weeks Beenie has been obsessed with the Rubik's Cube, to the point that YouTube videos showing solutions to the famous puzzle top his list of TV-watching preferences. He works patiently and relentlessly to figure out the standard 3 x 3 cube he already has, and has achieved solid color on two sides. His birthday brought him an assortment of other Rubik's-style puzzles, including a 2 x 2 and a triangular variation. The t-shirt Pa-pa and I contributed to his birthday stash says it all: "I make it look easy."

 
Interestingly, the Rubik's Cube is anything but easy. George Webster, writing for CNN in "The Little Cube That Changed the World," asserts that the various turns and twists of the puzzle offer 43 quintillion possible combinations. As a non-math person, I had to look up the term "quintillion." It is a thousand raised to the power of six, times ten to the eighteenth power. Now you know.

Even Erno Rubik, the puzzle's Hungarian inventor, took a month trying to figure out the solution after he concocted the rotating Cube from rubber bands and wood blocks. Intending it solely as a visual aid for his students in interior design, he never meant to create what some call the most popular toy in the world, selling more than 350 million since it was first mass-marketed in the early 1980's.

That was over forty years ago, before Pa-pa and I were even married. We celebrated our thirty-ninth anniversary on March 20, which is also Beenie's birthday. And, unlike most of his and his brother Heero's past birthday celebrations, this one was very small, consisting of only his immediate family and two sets of grandparents. No bounce house. No trip to Chuck E. Cheese. No lively gathering of fellow second-graders.

This is because Beenie's eighth birthday fell victim to the coronavirus and its current restrictions on large-group gatherings. As the number of positive cases continues to escalate daily, the virus is proving to be a puzzle of sorts itself. The countries of the world, like cubes of wood on a common axis, restructure data daily, turning and twisting to try to solve the puzzle the coronavirus imposes. We walk here on new ground. The game plan changes things.

Beenie and the other six grandkids remain insulated from the effects, implications, and what-ifs associated with the coronavirus pandemic of 2020. They are as safe as possible in the homes of caring parents who look out for their health, happiness, and safe-keeping. I am thankful beyond measure for these families, and I look forward to the day we are all together again with this outbreak behind us.

Until then, Beenie Boy, keep working at that Cube. Watch those experts, especially that guy with the record of 3.47 seconds. You might grow up to invent something spectacular or solve some bigger puzzle. Our world will always need people like you.
 

02-02-2020

Look at those numerals. Those eight digits, made entirely of 2's and 0's, form a palindrome reading the same forward and backward. How unusual is that? How fortuitous? How can a date like that bring anything other than memorable and amazing things?

It can't.

Last Sunday was destined for greatness in at least three ways, which I enumerate here from least to most important:

1. Punxsutawney Phil, the weather-predicting groundhog, did not see his shadow this year, thus predicting an early spring. On the typical 02-02, this hairy little meteorologist from Pennsylvania shows no sympathy for those of us suffering the usual icy, snowy Midwest winter. For whatever reason, he took pity on us and, if he did see his shadow, he had the decency to keep it to himself.

This is good news for people in our neck of the woods. We are tired of fighting cold winds, treacherous driving conditions, and unpredictable event cancellations. However, the temps last Sunday hovered around an unseasonable 70 degrees, giving us a big enough taste of spring to get us really excited.

2. The Kansas City Chiefs won the Super Bowl for the first time in fifty years. This is a big thing to Missourians, with the excitement multiplying logarithmically the closer you get to Kansas City. The game four nights ago capped off a season plagued by injuries and a post-season of dramatic comebacks. Super Bowl LIV itself brought a nail-biter which saw quarterback sensation Patrick Mahomes and company work their magic in the game's final six minutes to convert a 20-10 deficit to a 31-20 win.

3. Pooh celebrated his eleventh birthday, which he observed in grand style beginning with a visit from Pa-pa and me Thursday through Saturday. We took along a Chiefs AFC West Division Champ shirt for him and a dozen cupcakes with Chiefs decorations.

On Saturday he had a football-themed party with his friends, and on Sunday we traded text messages and photos as the big game came down to the wire. In our family, we will always remember that Pooh turned eleven years old on the day the Chiefs won the Super Bowl--02-02-2020. Pooh loves sports, especially football, so this makes both events extra special.

Over the past few days my Facebook "memories" have been popping up with pictures of Pooh on some of his previous birthdays. There was the one from ten years ago where he was sitting in his high chair with his face covered in chocolate icing. In another ten years, he will be a grown man of twenty-one. This is scary.

Years ago, I could never have imagined life with seven grandchildren. Now, I can't imagine it without them. Birthdays always seem to bring reflections on how fast the kids are growing up and how time is getting away.

But enough of that. Spring is coming, the Chiefs are champs, and Pooh has reached the fun age of eleven. It is a happy time for us, and this boy is a huge reason for that.