Sprightly
Trundler
Ben married Jen Crouse in April in a what was nearly
an elopement it was so sparsely attended because of Covid: couple, pastor,
witness. They later had a reception in New Hampshire. Early in their courtship
she had referred to an opossum quickly crossing the lawn as a “sprightly
trundler.” That phrase convinced David,
“We have got to get her into this family. Never was woman born who fits Ben so
well. Sprightly Trundler!” She is
a children’s librarian – that checked a lot of boxes for us – and drinks tea
like Tracy. They are redoing many portions of his house that has endured his gentle
but oblivious ownership by for years.
Her eye is better than his. Meaning, she notices things that need to be
done.
You
Are Now Free To Go About the Country.
But Not Norway.
It was nice to dash out to Houston and then Anchorage
in May to see the new daughter-in-law Jen and John-Adrian and Jocie’s newest
daughter, Bella, and for all of them to come to NH in August for the reception
and camping. But Chris and Maria are still under heavy restriction in Tromso,
thus out of reach. We have zoomed the
whole family with regularity, so actually see them more this year than in
previous years. Not the same, though, as you all know. He is still working with
fancy cars and she is working fulltime and grad school. They are hopeful about
being able to travel come spring. Both the older two Alaska girls like to run,
and Aurora especially to run and run and run more. I see cross-country in her
future. Quinn turned six and is at that highly quotable stage. So, adding her
in, plus Jen, we have more fascinating conversationalists. Just what this family needed. We spent 30
minutes on our last zoom offering up ridiculous names for the new cats in
Texas. Kyle was in Massachusetts and re-enlisted in the Army Reserve for a
year’s deployment to El Paso, though that looks unlikely now. He has been taking training and
certifications in the EMT/Medic/Firefighter categories, which he finds suits
him well, even though the specific niche isn’t clear. He keeps his head in
emergencies.
Reunions
We are reunioned out. In October we went to
William & Mary’s, which not only had two sets of classes because of Covid,
but also the postponed convocation of the class of 2020 and the dedication of a
new building. Thousands of people we don’t know and don’t care about
cluttering up the landscape. We had not been for
decades. We did buy Colonial Williamsburg
souvenirs and stayed with old friends on Cape Charles. Our advice: the formal
events are not that fascinating. Much better is relying on the informal
networks of classmates inviting each other, getting to see people we had
genuinely missed seeing. Then in October we had a memorial service for
Swede Nelson, a long-time choir member, which brought in musicians and singers
we knew from the 80s and 90s. Then in October
we had David’s 50th High School reunion and even a small reunion of Math
and Chemistry guys from Manville dorm at St Paul’s 1970.
Tell
Me a Story
Now that we are in just-about full retirement, we have
moved on to the august-sounding Final Arrangements. We bought a plot and have
ordered a bench in a section of Pine Grove that used to be entirely Greek. We
have long since recorded preferences for memorial services. Caskets are up
next, it seems. I have toyed with the idea of having “Tell Me A Story” engraved
on the bench, because it does fit both of us. We haven’t done it, though.
At this rate we will be finished Christmas
2024, her junior year of High School
I am reading Lord of the Rings aloud to Emily,
as I did to her father multiple times when he was growing up. Accessibility is
more difficult when one is not in the same house. We finished Book One and
“Flight to the Ford” this summer and I asked Emily if she remembered when we
had started. “Week Six at Pilgrim Pines.” (Precise child.) That was a year ago.
I calculated that at this rate I will be finishing up Christmas of 2024, her
junior year of high school. A friend looked at me seriously and said, “And then
you’ll have to start on Sarah.” I did the math. That project would not finish
until Sarah was off to college. So, I have to up my rate of reading to both,
and start in on The Hobbit with Sarah straight away. I have forgotten
many of the voices I used to use, and am less good at them.
Not
To Be Used As A Scooter
As we started composing this, we were both in the
second half of recoveries of planned surgeries, but now both have covid. So,
it’s all recovery, all day now. Tracy had a little wheeled platform with
emphatic directions “Not to be used as a scooter!” But how could you not? It
looks like a great scooter. The brakes ain’t much, though. Her foot is better,
my sight is better. We should be okay.