Monthly Archive: August 2024

Read, write and cook. That was my answer when asked what I planned to do in retirement. The read and write part I get, but cook? I think I was simply caught off guard and said the first thing that popped into my head. I do like to cook, but does it deserve “Do what I love and love what I do,” status? (https://susanscribbles.com/about-me/)

I don’t think so.

Many years ago, someone convinced my parents that a child who wanted to play piano should play the accordion first. Let me just say that if you ever want to squash someone’s musical aspirations, place in her lap a funny looking instrument that weighs almost as much as she does, and that she may or may not have ever even seen before.

Unsurprisingly, I have absolutely no memory of how this all went down, but when I picture me at ten with this contraption (no offense), it’s no wonder.

In my parents’ defense, perhaps it was simply the only thing with a keyboard that they could get their hands on. It was the Sixties after all. We were still a long way from having Amazon trucks zipping around delivering anything a heart desires.

Fast forward to the present where I just received a keyboard from my wonderful family to put into action my recently modified retirement plan:

Read, write and play piano.

Wish me luck.

As I sit in the hospital waiting for my neighbor who is having carpal tunnel surgery, I’m ashamed to admit that when she told me she was having the surgery, my first thought was why bother?

She’s 86 years old after all. Why would she put herself through this?

But then I thought about our family’s beloved Uncle Rudy who had open heart surgery at 88 years old. He lived ten more years after that. Ten great years, I might selfishly add, because they included five wonderful family trips to Curacao to spend with him and his lovely wife, Jackie, as well as a few visits they made to us. Would we have had all those great memories if he hadn’t had that surgery?

My neighbor works in her yard from sunup to sundown. And I don’t mean picking flowers. We’re talking cutting down trees, even wielding a chainsaw when needed. She’s the only person I know who would cram 15 bags of mulch and a wheel barrel in her Corvette. (And, yes, she drives a Corvette!) Need I say more? Hopefully this surgery will provide her many more years to enjoy doing what she loves.

So certain is she of her longevity that she even got herself a puppy this year.

Shame on me for doubting her.

Growing up I spent a lot of time at the home of my best friends (“the twins”). Their mother was kind of a loud, domineering woman whom I loved dearly. She treated me as one of her own, hitting me with the wooden spoon just like she did her real kids. (It’s okay; it was the 70s.) She’s also the one who named me fish mouth. A name I no doubt deserved then and apparently still do.

At a recent lunch with friends, the conversation turned to the subject of online dating when I staunchly proclaimed, “I would never use one of those dating sites!”

What I should have said was, I know quite a few people who are in great relationships that started online.

One would think after fifty or so years I might have learned to think before I open my fish mouth. What can I say? Apparently, I am still a work in progress who could occasionally use a good whack with the wooden spoon.

Whenever the Olympics roll around, I am reminded of a favorite person of mine, my father-in-law, Bob Christianson. He’s actually my ex-father-in-law, but he told me once that I would never be an “ex” to him.

I interviewed Bob in 1999 for one of my writing classes. I’ve attached it in its entirety, but I’ll summarize by saying he was a world renowned, avid collector of Olympic memorabilia who attended all the Games from1976 to his death in 2016 – even in 1980 when the U.S. boycotted the Olympic Games in the Soviet Union.

As he did with most of his “kids,” Bob treated me to the Olympics. I attended the 1996 opening ceremonies in Atlanta with him. This was back when those ceremonies were simple and elegant, so it was a night to remember with Muhammed Ali lighting the Olympic flame, Gladys Knight singing Georgia On My Mind, and then-President Clinton formally opening the Games with a flyover by the Thunderbirds.

Thank you, Bob Christianson, for the memory of a lifetime.

As an aside, I would later learn that my future husband was also at those Games and that we both had tried our hand in the batting cage which simulated a major-league-speed pitch.

Years later, in my romantic-comedy-loving-mind I conjured up a “what if” storyline that had us actually meeting at the batting cage that day where we had a flirty exchange. Then, two months later when we had our real-life blind date, he would be stopped in his tracks when he walked into the restaurant and saw me, saying “It’s you!”

Of course, in my fantasy romantic comedy, I would be played by Meg Ryan.

Olympic Spirit