Category: Fun

In our household, we celebrate three events this time of the year.  Obviously, there is Christmas and New Year, but Helen (adorable wife) adds a third event to the calendar. The event, Decorating for Christmas, is a big deal…a really, big, deal.

Thankfully, Helen waits until the day after Thanksgiving to start.  She refuses to follow the lead of retail establishments and others who rush the season, but as soon as the turkey is trashed, out comes the boxes from the recesses of the attic.  That chore falls on me, but most of the labor she takes on herself—and always with a smile.  She truly relishes the task.

In most years, this activity goes off without a hitch.  Helen has all the ornaments, lights, and miscellaneous decorations organized in storage crates which are labeled and numbered.  This year, however, the event brought out an interesting twist because she broke with tradition and did the heretofore unthinkable. Helen bought an artificial tree.

In years past I had tried to make this happen…bringing trees home and placing them on a stand can be a real pain. I tried especially hard to convince her after we downsized and artificial trees seemed to be the norm in our neighborhood.  I tried even harder after a retired couple we know built a new home and constructed a closet in the living room where the Christmas tree lives, fully decorated. Every year they simply pull it out and plug it in. At the end of the season, they scoot it a few feet into the closet where it lives for another year. Compared to what I went through every year with a real tree, this sounded like a good deal to me.

I can’t recall what prompted the change.  I just remember that after the Christmas season last year, she was searching online for a tree that came with an abundance of lights, at the best price of course. Next, I was unloading a boxed tree from her car and hauling it up to the attic…grinning broadly.

Fast forward to this season and it’s time to decorate for 2017. Down the stairs comes the boxed tree where it is placed in the center of the living room. 

Follow the pictures, they tell the story.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Success! The lights come on! There are white lights, then colored lights, then blinking lights, then flashing lights, then slow glow, fast glow, and twinkle.

On top of all that, this tree even rotates! It was such a hoot that we laughed ourselves silly.  We settled on colored without glow or twinkle.  After a while, all of that glowing and twinkling was suddenly creating an urge to find sharp objects, a notion I had to dispel before somebody got hurt.

Thinking that the tree was ready to decorate, I began looking for my favorite ornaments, the wooden ones that we brought home from Germany where we lived after we were married.  I look forward to this reunion every year. It’s like welcoming old friends back to the house after a year apart. I pulled the guys out and began to place them on a tree branch when from the back of the room there came such a clatter, I paused in mid-placement.

 

 

 

“We have to fluff!”

“Huh?”

“Fluff”, she says.  “The branches have to be fluffed!”

Deciding that fluffing was a task for which I was woefully unqualified, I repaired to the refrigerator for an adult beverage. I returned to my recliner for a fluffing demonstration. It required three days. Again, the pictures tell all.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

At one point, fluffing operations ceased and Helen handed me an ornament that she picked out to commemorate our newly found RV lifestyle. It was an ornament to honor Bertha, our first travel trailer.  Laughter reigned once again.  I handed her an ornament I purchased to represent our second RV, Betty.

Fluffing continues, and I’m Easin’ Along.

 

 

 

 

 

Life can be a whirlwind at times and this fall seems to be one of those times. It has all been self-imposed and it has all been a lot of fun, and fun is retirement activity of the best kind. We’ve been to weddings and wedding parties, church and friend gatherings, Halloween fun, and neighborhood events. Fall is a great time of the year!

Two weeks ago, Helen (adorable wife) and I took Betty (our camper) on a trip to Big South Fork National River and Recreation Area and joined a group from our church in a delightful weekend in the woods (see last week’s post).  We arrived home from that adventure on a Sunday afternoon then left the following Tuesday on a flight to Southern California to visit our son and his family for another week of fun in the warm California sun.

Even though the flights are long, and the airlines don’t care that people like me (6’ 4” tall) don’t fit in their ridiculously small seating, I endure it for the joy that awaits at the end of the runway. Our grandchildren are a sheer delight and that weather is always perfect. In addition, there was plenty of activity planned and we were looking forward to all of it. Here’s the rundown…

Wednesday: Our first activity was walking our grandchildren the three blocks to their elementary school.  This may seem like a small thing, but Helen and I never miss the opportunity. Walking gives us a chance to have a casual chat with them and meet some of their friends.  The elementary school starts the day with a program of free play where the children are encouraged to walk the track for about twenty minutes and then have organized exercise before entering the classroom.  This is a great program and the children seem to love it.  There are always plenty of parents around, most holding coffee cups and engaged in conversation with other parents. This truly is a social event.

Thursday: The school observed Veteran’s Day and all parents who have served in the Armed Forces were honored in a formal ceremony after the morning exercise.  As a Veteran and a grandfather, I was included in the ceremony and made a hasty run to the Exchange at Los Angeles Air Force Base the day before to purchase a “Retired US Army” cap which I wore proudly as my name was called by the school principal. My son, an Army Veteran, was also honored and we stood side by side in the group photo with other Vets.  The ceremony recognized members of scouting organizations and my grandson attended looking resplendent in his new Cub Scout uniform.  Following the ceremony, a student handed me a very sincere letter thanking me for my service (see letter at bottom).

Friday: School was out and my son had the day off for Veteran’s Day, so Helen and I let everyone sleep in and we drove down to the pier at Redondo Beach for some fresh air and an early lunch. I love Redondo Beach.  The view south toward Palos Verdes is beautiful and we sat and looked at it while lunching on sliders from Barney’s Beanery at the pier.

Saturday: This was soccer day for our grandson and the whole family was up and out for a game at 8:00 am. His team fought hard but came up short in a 3-2 loss.  Our grandson played well both in the field and for one quarter at goalie.  I drifted back to the time when our two boys played soccer. Those were days of children’s youth that I remember very fondly. There is just something magical about seeing sleepy-eyed little boys arrive at a dew-covered field on a fall morning all grumpy and unsettled.  Then, as if by magic, a whistle blows, and eleven little boys take off in pursuit of a white sphere, kicking, and yelling at teammates suddenly awake and alive.  I love that.

Saturday evening: This was our night to stroll around the pier at Hermosa Beach.  My usual request is to have dinner at Hennessey’s Tavern at the base of the pier, but the last two visits have not gone well. The food was not good. The sunsets viewed from the dining room can be incredible and, for this reason alone, I was willing to give it one more try.  Soon after our seating, a spectacular sunset appeared and I ran out on the pier to capture it with my camera. The view of the sunset did not make up for the bad food as, once again, my meal was not prepared well–such a shame because the location is excellent.

Sunday morning: The whirlwind swirled on when my son and I went back to the pier for a visit to Sharkees for NFL Football on many, many television sets.  Since we are in the Pacific Time Zone, football begins at 10:00 am and pitchers of Bloody Mary’s are available.  I thought “what the heck” I’m on vacation (aren’t I always?) and ordered up one pitcher as a chaser for my plate of nachos.  The atmosphere was terrific, but after a couple of hours, we returned home for a long nap. I’m a wild one!

Sunday evening: Suddenly our last night arrived and we were treated to a wonderful evening at the home of our daughter-in-law’s parents. Our host, Cheryl, always goes out of her way to make us feel welcome and is a fantastic entertainer. This evening was no exception. While seated at the dinner table, one of Cheryl’s other grandchildren decided that she wanted to serve salad to everyone and climbed on the table with serving forks in hand, aided by her grandfather. This was marvelous theater and laughter roared through the dining room. All too soon it was time to say goodbye.

Monday: Up before sunrise, and it was time to head to the airport for the return trip home.  The flight was uneventful (thankfully) although the promised WiFi failed to work and the seats were still too small.  After touchdown and a quick Uber ride home, we were left wondering where the time went. Our west coast turnaround had ended almost as suddenly as it began, but I suppose that’s what happens in a fall whirlwind…you turn around and it’s gone.  Nevertheless, great memories linger…it’s just time to be Easin’ Along.

Back in the days before I retired and worked at a “real job” I built homes for a living. It was a career that suited me perfectly as it allowed me to be outside and doing as opposed to inside and sitting. Within a period of approximately 20 years, I built and sold 125 houses that ranged in size from 2,000 to 3,500 square feet primarily for buyers who were purchasing their second home. 

Throughout those days and continuing into the present, I loved looking through houses. When Helen (adorable wife) and I would attend conventions of the National Association of Home Builders we would always sign up for the home tours offered each year. After I left the building business, I took a part-time job inspecting foreclosed homes for HUD.  This job was probably the most fun I ever had while working.

Therefore, I find myself somewhat surprised that, until recently, I had never visited Biltmore House, the largest private residence ever constructed in America. One would think that this massive structure, located in nearby Asheville, NC, would have lured me long before now for a tour of both the home and gardens. Except for the fact that I don’t like crowds, I don’t have a good excuse…it just never happened.

When we began planning the trip we named “Bertha and the Beach” which called for a stopover in Asheville to visit our friends Sally and Bill, Helen was adamant that we book a tour of the Biltmore House. Once again, thinking about the crowds, I was a bit reluctant and put up mild resistance, but eventually relented and gave the go ahead.  As usual, Helen made the right call. The experience was fascinating and as much as I enjoyed learning about the construction details and looking over the furnishings, fixtures, and beautiful artwork found throughout this incredible structure, I most enjoyed just imagining what it would be like to live there.  

Just imagine that you are George Vanderbilt, son of the wealthiest man in America and had just inherited 13 million dollars in 1885 and were 23 years old. (That 13 million would be about 1.8 billion today). As George, a somewhat shy and introverted young man who never really had a job, you travel to Asheville, NC in 1888 with your mother and fall in love with the area. Over the next few months, you decide that you will use your wealth to build a 135,000-square foot French-style Chateau to have a place to live when you are not living in your other homes in Maine or Newport, RI.

Next, you begin to acquire 125,000 rugged acres in the Asheville countryside with a view of the Blue Ridge mountains and start a construction project that will last nearly six years and require over 700 workers. (Most of my homes took three to six months to complete with about five people on the site at any one time). Now imagine that it is 1895 and you move into a 250-room home with 33 bedrooms, 43 bathrooms with hot running water, electricity, an indoor swimming pool, a staff of hundreds…and you are single and worth millions.

Every morning you wake up to put on the clothes laid out for you by your personal valet, the first of several clothing changes that day, and either eat breakfast in your bedroom or have it served to you in the Breakfast Room.

After breakfast (and another change of clothes) you ride over a portion of your 125,000 acres and check out some of the three million plants that were ordered by Frederick Olmstead, the landscape architect who designed Central Park in New York City. Next, it would be time for afternoon tea served on the Loggia (think big concrete deck) where you could either read or take in the view of the Blue Ridge Mountains beyond the landscaped acreage.

At the end of this busy day, it would be time to dress once again for an evening with the distinguished guests who traveled from the northeast to visit Biltmore and the North Carolina countryside. Some of the guests will stay at Biltmore for a few days of horseback riding or hunting, but tonight they will be seated at a table for 38 in the banquet hall for a seven or eight-course dinner of wild turkey and vegetables grown in the Biltmore garden. Three or so hours later the guests will retire to the music room for entertainment or perhaps the gentlemen will follow George to the Bachelor Hall to view his gun collection while they sip brandy just before playing billiards in the billiards room. As I said above…It’s fun to think about.

Understandably, George eventually concluded that he needed someone to share all this excitement with and so in 1898, at the age of 33, he married the 25-year-old Edith Dresser and brought her to Biltmore…and gave her a bedroom of her own complete with staff to help her plan the social engagements. This marriage produced one daughter, Cornelia. As a Vanderbilt family, this idyllic lifestyle would continue for sixteen more years until George passed away in 1914 at age 51.

At the end of our tour, I remember thinking that it would be easy for some to have the opinion that George Vanderbilt was just some rich kid who inherited family money and spent it lavishly without ever doing much to earn it. I dismissed that opinion quickly. I contend that George, and his family that followed, did much to earn the money after they received it.  George spent years researching the design and the details before he turned the soil. He gave jobs to hundreds of unemployed North Carolinians, many of them African American. He created the first forestry school in the United States.  Some of the original land for Biltmore is now the Pisgah National Forest and thereby preserved forever. Today, Biltmore attracts a million and a half visitors a year and contributes 140 million dollars to the local economy and employs 1,854 hard-working people. I would say that Mr. Vanderbilt justified his inheritance and multiplied it many times over. 

Now, were I to find myself in George’s shoes…Vast riches, single, youthful, curious, able to build a castle, bring a young bride in after it was built (advantage George), entertain famous people from all over the world, leave a legacy for generations to admire…does that have any appeal?

Once again, I imagine myself as George probably did in 1889 looking over acres of barren red soil covered in patches of ugly briars. Knowing how it all turned out, I probably would find myself looking up with a big grin proclaiming loudly “Please throw me in that briar patch”!

Well done, George.  We truly enjoyed Easin’ Along with you on this trip.