Losing the Moon

                                                   

                                            

This is quite a strange blog to write, but if you’re patient, I’ll explain why I’m posting this particular blog. I have always felt connected to the moon and this connection was felt from when I was a very young child. My father would sit on the steps of our South Philadelphia row home and point out the different constellations that he knew at the time. But, if there was a full moon, my dad would tell me how farmers, sailors and ancient travelers used the moon and the North Star to guide them on their travels or to do their seasonal plantings.
 

 

The Moon, which controls our oceans’ tides and maybe, just maybe, our personalities, is moving further away from us as you read this blog. It’s not noticeable, just a mere 1.5 inches per year. Scientists say this retreat is caused by the gravitational torque on the lunar orbit. Whatever the reason, it is the most worrisome to me that we may lose our closest friend eventually.
 

 Most people don’t even know about this slow farewell, but I do. My reverence for this fellow traveler that stays by our side as we make our orbit around the life giving Sun is a source of comfort to me. When I was a child, the moon looked so much larger. It filled the night sky and cast its protective light down upon me. I find that I even sleep better when there is a full moon. While others become crazed, I sleep the sleep of innocence

                                                      

Growing up during the early 1950’s, there was talk of one day landing on the moon. In the late 60’s our country did put a man on the moon. Mankind not only landed on the moon, but we walked on the moon. How utterly fantastic those days were for those of us who look upwards for our inspirations. The hopes and dreams of the entire world hinged on whether we could build and maintain colonies on our nightly companion, unfortunately for mankind, our attention was drawn to war and making lots of money. When we stopped looking up at the stars, we became angrier and nastier to each other

Today we’re concentrating on Mars and send out satellites and robotic rovers to study the surface of Mars with hopes of eventually landing and colonizing the red planet. We have an international Space Station and the powerful Hubble telescope to see the vast universe beyond our solar system.

                                                         

We will land on Mars, of this I am certain and, I’m pretty sure that we will eventually colonize Mars. We are explorers by nature. There are moons that circle Mars, Phobos and Deimos, but are they as special as ours? Will they shine as brightly? Thousands of years from now, will the people of Mars look down upon a dead earth that was destroyed by climate change and war and even remember how important the moon was for us? Will they think fondly of her?

                                                     

Whenever I proclaim my love to my daughter and now my grandchildren, I tell them, “I love you to the moon and back.”  It is a measurement of how much I love them. As our nightly companion moves further away, I look up and say, “Wait for me.”

                                              

 

                                            

 

                                  

                                                 

 

How did I get so old?

A few months ago, I posted about my shock and denial when I had received my medicare card in the mail. I went through the stages of “How the hell did I get so old?” to “This has to be a mistake,” to the final acceptance, “Well this sucks.”

I was part of the baby boomers, born towards the end of 1946; I grew up during a time when life offered you a variety of great possibilities, but only if you were a white man. Bear with me on this.

Being a second generation Italian American, my sisters and I were expected to graduate from High School, get married and have children. College was not in the picture if you were female so my first job was as a long distance operator for Bell Telephone.

There were so many things happening as I grew up. The sound of music was changing and fast. We had our Motown sounds and we had the British Invasion, my favorite to this day is the Beatles. Change was also in the air with the Civil Right’s Movement and Women’s Liberation. We had the Space Program, landing on the Moon, but we also had an unpopular war, Vietnam.

My Generation found a way to be heard and to right the wrongs. We protested and we marched. We protested against Segregation and War, pushing instead for World Peace, Civil Rights and equality between all men and all women. We were supposed to set the World back on track. Did we?

If you read the papers and listen to the news from around the world, we seem to be going backwards and fast. Racism is alive and thriving, human slavery is big business, there are no jobs, the Space Program is flat lining and the American Dream is going down a rabbit’s hole. There are screaming matches between normally sensible people about the 99% and the 1% and as far as the Women’s Liberation motto, “You’ve come a long way baby,” we now have committee of men deciding on women’s birth control issues. Our education system is in the toilet because we just don’t have enough money…but somehow, there is always money for WAR.

So we have a lot of work ahead of us, and by us, I mean my fellow baby boomers. We need to inspire and lead this country back on its feet and we do this by stopping the clown acts being performed by our politicians. Campaigns should focus on getting this country back on track, not mud slinging, or insults against our President. We need to stand by him and face the world united, because our enemies are laughing at us, and we no longer frighten them. Why? We’re divided.

Get your sneakers ready, oil the wheels on your walkers, we need to get out there and say, “Enough is enough.”

                                             PEACE

The Night before Christmas or How to Survive the Gifts

                The big event every year is the Christmas Eve party at Granny’s house, followed by the New Year’s Eve party given for the grandkids and their friends. The parents are free to party with their friends on New Year’s Eve and the kids, left with me and their grandfather, get to do their own celebration.  There is a plan to this madness, which I’ll go into at the end of the post, but let’s start with Christmas Eve.

                Unfortunately only seven of the grandkids make this event, the other two live in Wyoming, but it sounds like all nine are here and it can get a bit loud. As each family arrives, gifts in hand, I direct them to the basement where the gifts are placed on the pool table. While I try to get the food on the table the youngest follows me around, playing the game “20 questions”.

                “Were you able to find that game I asked for, Granny?”

                “What game?” I reply, trying really hard not to laugh.

                “You know the game for my X Box.”

                “I don’t remember,” I reply, and chuckle to myself as he walks away shaking his head.

                The youngest always gets me in trouble with his Mom, my daughter. While she was on her second honeymoon, I blogged about this, Nathan asked me to get him Gears of War for Christmas. He’s pretty slick for nine. Happy to have an idea on what to get Mr. Finicky, I went shopping. After purchasing the game, I called my daughter and told her what I bought.

                “What did he ask for?”

                “Gears of War,” I reply, quite innocent of the rating system.

                My daughter let out a yelp. “He can’t have that game, it’s X-rated. You have to bring it back.”

                So back I went to the store to return the game. The salesperson was very helpful in showing me the rating system and how it worked, and after I picked out a new game, I called my daughter from the store.

                “My daughter wants to know if this game has any sex, curse words, or bloody decapitations?” I asked the poor salesman.

“No, it’s safe,” he replied. The game passed the “Mom test” and off I went a much wiser granny. 

When it was time to open gifts, we had the youngest go first. Nathan was happy with the Nerf dart shooter, clothing and gift cards, I gave him, but he was looking forward to the final package.

“I got you something a little different,” I said, and waited for his reaction.

Wrapping paper torn away, he gave me a sheepish smile and said, “I really wanted this one.”

I had succeeded in finding a replacement for what was asked, but not right for him. It was a flight simulator, with lots of action, but no blood and guts. I had succeeded in pleasing all seven grandkids, points for granny.

On New Year’s Eve, all the grandkids come over with their newest board games. They’re allowed to bring friends, and everyone brings a sleeping bag. Parents are not allowed to pick them up until the next day around, midafternoon. We spend the night playing board games, eating, playing WII dance, eating, and any game we can make up on the spot. The ages run from nine to twenty three, but they all get along great, and if there is a disagreement, it is settled quickly.

I’m worn out by the time they’re all asleep, but there is a payoff. The next day, after they’re given a good breakfast, they help take down all the Christmas decorations, inside and out. Not a bad deal, if you ask me.   Have a happy, safe, and healthy New Years.