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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 from 1976 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

There are a few good things about getting older.

First and foremost, for me, is I care a lot less about what people think.

In the 70s, when my girlfriends and I were in love with the Osmond Brothers, we were embarrassed to mention this obsession outside our tightknit group.

Here we are before our first Osmond concert in 1971.

I was fairly certain that when Donny caught a glimpse of me decked out in my new “smock,” he would be instantly smitten with the girl in the rafter seats wearing this blouse? Uniform? I have no idea what I was thinking.

When I showed this photo to my family, one of them said “I didn’t know you worked at IHOP.”

My father was kind enough to drive us to Madison Square Garden (in a clunker of a car from way out on Long Island, no less). I’ve been reminded that he walked around the entire time taking pictures.

As for me, I took a “whole roll” of pictures with my new Kodak Instamatic camera. When I returned home, I put the little plastic cartridge of film in an envelope and mailed it off to be developed. I would anxiously check the mailbox for the next two (maybe even three) weeks waiting for the pictures to be delivered. When they arrived, they were all pitch black with five white dots off in the distance. I was thrilled.

When I recently heard that Donny was coming to our local concert venue, I was excited. I told anyone who would listen that I was going to see him.

When I announced at a family get together that I was going to see Donny Osmond, my sister-in-law asked, “Where is he buried?” (Have I mentioned that I have a funny family?)

The show – that I got to share with my sister who was too young to join us in 1971 – was just as I hoped. It took me back to a simpler time, albeit a time when I was decades away from being able to admit that I love the Osmond Brothers.

I’m sure you’ve heard that old saying that goes something like “As a door closes / a window opens.” And, like me, you’ve probably said, yeah, yeah, whatever.

But sometimes a situation bops you over the head so hard that you can’t help but take notice.

I lost my sister a year ago today. Carol was only 68, so it was as shocking and sad as imagined.

But nine days ago, our family welcomed little Brooklyn into the world. Brooklyn is Carol’s fourth grandchild and a first for her oldest son and his wife.

Carol struggled with many things, but the one thing she embraced was being “Meah” to Christopher, Makenna and Jayden. She would have been over the moon with Brooklyn’s arrival.

And how fitting that Brooklyn is named after the city where her Meah was born.

Open a window, Carol, and have a look at precious Brooklyn.

 

 

I recently received my bathroom art, courtesy of one of the wonderful artists at Etsy.*

It gives me so much joy to see these images in the mirror each day that I felt compelled to write about them.

L.T., my first Golden Retriever. I never imagined I could love an animal as much as I loved L.T. He got me through my divorce and so much more. I am so happy that my Joe got to know L.T., if for only a year.

So distraught after losing L.T., I swore I would never get another. And then Bailey found us. We loved telling the story of how we went out for cat food and came home with an 80 lb. Golden Retriever. What a complete joy Bailey was.

After saying goodbye to our dear Bailey, it took two years before I felt ready to welcome another Golden. Six-year-old Gigi was at the Golden Retriever Rescue of Mid Florida having a difficult time finding a home. She didn’t like other dogs, she wasn’t wild about kids, and she had a bit of OCD. But when we met her at her foster home, we knew she was perfect for us. She brought us so much joy and made us laugh every day.

For a combined total of thirty-one years we were blessed with sharing our home with Goldens. And, we have not closed the door to maybe another…

*I must give a shout out to Fisart Design for the fantastic job they did with capturing the essence of all three of our Goldens.  https://www.etsy.com/shop/FisartDesign

Click on images below to see originals.