GoodeStreet

I'll just say what I'm thinking.

I hope you do well. That all you dream to accomplish and experience comes true.

That's my thought for you today. Yeah, too often said without heart.

But I mean it. Keep this wish in mind. It's about perspective.

For the 58th time in my life, I woke to hear this.

That is the sound of my mother singing. The only day she sings to me is on my birthday.

Friends wonder why I need to be reminded when my birthday comes around. Now you know. Try listening to that as the first sound you hear when you wake up. It's become a running joke between my mom and I. She sings, I groan. We both know she can't sing worth a darn.

Mom is 92 years old. How many more times will I get the chance to groan?

I have never understood why a bunch of hoopla is created for my birthday. My dad's sperm and my mothers body decided what day it would be. I had little to do with it. Just showed up. Ignorant and breathing was my contribution.

Shouldn't the celebration be directed towards my parents? They did 99% of what was necessary for me to be born that day.

The first of May does have special meaning to me.

Though for different reason.

My birthday serves as an annual reminder to be kind to people. Year around. Because the only reason I'm doing anything is because of the love and encouragement of my parents.

And a whole bunch more. Starting with a doctor and nurse 59 years ago, through today. Nobody finds success and happiness alone. Many people touch our lives. Through good and bad.

So thank you. To all of you, for your help and encouragement. Especially, thank you Barb. That's her on the left... a photo snapped in 1976. With dreams yet ahead. Still dreaming today. We knew each other only a month at the time.

I'll close with my sincerest wishes for you.

That someday I can repay you even a tenth of what you have given to me.

The second wish is about wisdom and perspective.

May your breadth of ignorance be widely expanded.

Barb is flying to New Orleans today, for some training. Some background is in order to make sense of what follows.

A couple years ago Barb went to Manhattan, Kansas to bid on some property. Why is unimportant. Manhattan is a small college town, much like Ashland. But bigger, with midwestern values.

She was befriended, literally within a day, by the city attorney, influential folk in government positions, local business owners, and the matron of the most influential family in town. This families name is sprinkled liberally across buildings on the Kansas State University campus. Long story short, all fell over themselves to help Barb feel at home. Helped nudge her along to be successful during the property bidding process. Asked her to join them during breakfast, lunch and dinner. Took drives together to see the area and hear the history. Showed her how to get to properties she wanted to view. Brought her to the county fair that weekend, through the participants gate. Made her feel like an insider, because they liked her. We travel all the time together and stuff like that doesn't happen. Only when Barb travels alone.

So I'm stewing today as Barb flies to New Orleans. Me, enduring 37 degree weather while Barb wings her way to 77 degree warmth. I really want to see New Orleans. Really, really want to. Have never been there. But decided not to go because money is tight. Decided against going despite the fact I crave visiting a warm, humid place during winter. It's the only environment where I can breath like you do. Normally. I have, shall we say, active sinuses. But Barb's MS doesn't like heat and humidity. Our once a winter sojourn to heat is my seven day winter respite. Barb gets the other 51 weeks where she is comfortable. I'm fine with that schedule.

Barb is also visiting our daughter and nephew in Missoula soon. Yep. Snowy, cold Montana. Where 25 degree days are considered warm this time of year. Nasty on my sinuses. Barb decided she could find the money for me to go, too. Only, I didn't want to go. I'll happily visit family in Montana during the warm months, but in winter? Somebody had better be dying. I'd rather go to New Orleans. A new place never seen, where I can breathe normally. Last I knew, I would skip both trips. Have lots to do, anyway.

How do the stories of Manhattan and Missoula relate? Well, for one, Barb is going to "my" warm place. Without me. My one respite week, gone. A bitter pill to swallow. Especially since it turns out we did have enough money to chose one or the other if we wanted to spend it. I was inclined not to.

But then comes the phone call from Barb in LA, where she is changing planes. On the flight down to LA her seat mate was our investment advisor and friend, Chad. A great guy. What are the odds of that happening on a random flight out of Medford?

What about the LA to New Orleans flight Barb is on at this very moment? Turns out her seat mates are Camryn Manheim and Darryl Hanna (of TV and movie fame). Flying coach, I might add.

When Barb and I fly together, it's rare to even see someone we know, much less have them sitting nearby. But when Barb flies alone....

Does the gal have the Midas touch?

It has become apparent that Barb and I were not always on the same page when it comes to choosing cars and trucks. No big surprise. I used to sell cars and have: a) insiders knowledge you don't usually learn, b) had first crack at buying unusual used cars really cheap and c) could buy new cars essentially at invoice.

So we have owned a lot of cars. A cherry 68 Buick and 72 Olds Cutlass. Both showroom fresh despite their age, both unusual for having bucket seats, console, and low miles on the odometer. Scattered between were a plastic-bodied Chevy Lumina van, a Ford Taurus, a Subaru Wagon, and a dozen more cars, trucks, and SUV's I have forgot.

Our latest was a 06 Nissan Xterra that she bought, with my encouragement, rather than the smaller car she preferred. The Xtera has been a really great car. No problems, lots of power, a comfy ride, storage galore, and 4WD performance that can safely take you most anywhere. You also won't confuse the Xterra's styling with the glut of SUV's that esentially look alike.

Took these photos, because I could tell something was up.

Had I been better at really listening to Barb, I would have realized long before now that her taste in cars is different than mine. Her favorite cars that we bought were the Datsun 280Z (with a custom paint job I designed), an early 90's Nissan Sentra two-door (with no A/C, but with a sunroof), and a two-toned Suzuki Sidekick. Second tier on her list is her Xterra, the rest follow.

So it shouldn't have been a surprise when Barb was enamored with cousin Debbie and her husband Klaus' Scion xB after taking a road trip with them from Ashland to Bend. She liked the smaller size, better fuel mileage, comfortable seats, and quirky style.

I figured the chance of finding a low-mile, five to eight year old Scion was unlkely, especially locally where people tend to drive more than the national average, so I had Barb looking at the Kia Soul and Nissan Cube. She liked them, but not as much as the square-bodied xB. Then....

I saw a Scion xB sitting on the lot I used to work at (now TC Chevy, in Ashland). It had the right body style, nicely equipped, in great condition, and had low miles! 33,000. Mentioned it to Barb. She didn't take long to think about it.

So now Barb's a happy camper. I think I have finally learned to stay out of her decision process with cars. Took me long enough to learn.

Now she has a quirky car that matches her quirky personality. Give Barb a wave and say "Hi" when you see her.

Update: Baby boy, born 4:15 PM, 5 lbs, 9 oz weight, 19 inch length, labor time less than 3 hours

Pregnant daughter Carly goes to see a specialist today (who also happens to be a friend of ours). He suggests Carly be induced. Went to see Carly at the hospital and left at 3:30. Nurses were sure Carly would take a few more hours. Nope. At 4:43, via email, come photos from Barb.

Don't ask the questions you have. Proud and dumb grandpa doesn't know the answers.

Turned on my hearing aid this morning and it was Springsteen all the time. Freaking hearing aid company is streaming music to my ears now.

But c'mon.

How many times can you listen to "Born in the USA"? Over and freaking over. Tried all the buttons, but alas. Where's the white guy rap? Oops. Forgot. Eminen is assembling bumpers for Chrysler.

Wait. A new stream is starting. Oh God. Manilow. Gotta go. I'm putting my hearing aids out of their misery.

And we are so smug to say it only snows in Ashland a couple times each year. Looks like we got a head start on winter today.

Update: Kudos for rock salt. Thumbs down to shadowed, north-facing driveways. Shoveled the snow off the driveway and of course, an instant sheet of ice resulted. Who did such a stupid design, putting the driveway where the winter sun doesn't shine?

Uhhhh, that would be me. I designed the house. And access. Dumb.

/gst, from my iPhone

Naaaa, who's kidding who? Will never happen, and I'm the one to blame.

Dateline: Missoula, Montana

An impromptu shot of grandma "Bubbles" Barb with her grandson, Grady.

Photo by Lindsay McKittrick.

So Barb and I have finally crossed over. 31 is done. We're off in pursuit of completing the thirty-second year of our marriage. Thanks to our friends for, well, being friends. Your efforts are appreciated. YOU are appreciated. More than you could ever imagine.

Below is our latest newborn. Newborn photo, that is. Only one day old. Why the hell does Barb's Aging Clock run at such a different pace than mine? I wait in dread of the day a concierge asks: "Would you and your father like a table inside, or outside?" Not sure whether I'll laugh, or clock the guy.

Side note: Barb and I were comparing friends. No, not in a "Mine are better than yours, so pfffft on you!" way. We were comparing who among our friends are still married. Strangely, many of our close high school and college friends who got married, still are. A percentage somewhere north of 90. Plodding happily along in the midst of the most prolific divorce generation this country has seen. The Boomers. We, meaning the friends I am talking about, must all have some kind of disease. A constancy disease.

I wonder, why?