Raising Cane

 Dear friends, family, and frenemies,

This is a totally true story that involves some friends of mine.  I know you want to know the deets (What else do you have to do?  After all, you are currently reading Tiztalk.).  Here goes...

Bob and his wife Marj signed up for a cruise to Greece, Italy, and Spain to take place in September. Despite having had twenty surgeries in the past thirty years, Bob is a trouper.  He and Marj have traveled a lot.  Around Christmas, Bob's back started acting up.  Badly.  He finally decided to undergo surgery.  Marj is in my exercise class; we ladies in the class were following Bob's progress with great interest.  The question "Will Bob be well enough to go on the cruise?" consumed us.  Marj really, really wanted to go.  We really, really wanted them to  be able to go.  A Medicare glitch postponed his surgery for a few months, but there was still time for Bob to recover.  He went through painful and demanding physical therapy.  He came to the gym and walked with his walker with braces on his legs and a big black belt around his waist and chest.  Slowly, he seemed to improve.  When September arrived, he was off the walker and walking with a cane.  Marj and Bob decided to go ahead with the trip.  We all heaved a sigh of relief.  However, secretly we wondered, "Should Bob really be going on that trip?"

For ten days, we recreation center ladies chattered  about how Bob and Marj might be doing on their trip.  What if he fell?  What if he had to go to the hospital?  Was it worth the trouble and worry?

When Marj came back to class, we were eager for details.  How did it go?  Did Bob have any mishaps? Were they able to go all the places they wanted to?  "Well, said Marj, " the trip was fine.  We just had one problem."  We were all ears.  Here's what happened....

They were able to go on most of the excursions.  Bob maneuvered uneven sidewalks and cobblestones just fine.  Things were going well until one afternoon in Barcelona.  It was a holiday, so the streets were crowded.  The group had just finished a tour and was lined up to board their bus.  Bob was near the end of the line.  Standing beside him was, in his words, "a little 5' 2" woman" (I'm a bit partial to those myself.)  She had a crossbody bag on her shoulder with the bag part on her back.  Suddenly, a young man appeared, grabbed her billfold out of her bag, and threw it in his backpack.  She noticed and started grabbing for the backpack.  She and the man had a tug of war with the backpack.  Bob sprang into action.  After a loud exclamation of "What the hell is going on?", he took his cane and poked the man in the face.  Stunned, the thief fell back.  Bob held up his cane menacingly.  The young man ran off, leaving his backpack.  Bob said that he was relieved that the guy didn't challenge him, as he would most likely have have fallen over with a slight push.  When Bob's tour mates learned what had happened, they broke into applause.  He became the darling of the bus trip.  His fellow travelers, and especially the little lady, were so glad he was there to save the day.

This story has been repeated a few times since their return, including several times by me.  Like most of my stories, it gets a little better every time.  Bob's heroics grow with each retelling.  I mean who doesn't like a tale about an eighty-year -old hero?

 At his last appointment, Bob's doctor saw great improvement in his walking and balance.  The culprit?  Lots of walking on the tour and especially on uneven surfaces like cobblestones.  You go, Bob!

Tizhaps:

Target has new carts.  That's right.  And they have roomy red plastic buckets on them, just the right size to put a purse in and leave it there.  That's just what I did recently.  Upon realizing my error, I had to sprint (I use that term very loosely) across the parking lot doing the "grandma run."  If you've been reading this blog long enough, you'll recall that I used to do the "Mom run" when I got into trouble, which was bad enough.  But the "grandma run"?  Well, use your imagination. 

Blabbing and gabbing,

I remain

Tizzie/Tiz/Liz/Elizabeth/Tizmom/Grandma/Grizzie

Making Connections

 Dear friends, family, and frenemies,

A basket. A fan.  A bag of bubblegum. What do these things have in common?  Hmmm

My husband and I have often sat behind a lady at church.  I don't know her, but I've seen her around for years.  She could probably say the same thing about me.  Last year, when the collection basket was passed to me,  I wasn't paying attention.  (Long time readers know that that is a recurring theme in tiztalk). When I grabbed the basket to pass it, I accidentally hit her in the head with it.  I apologized profusely, and we both had a hard time keeping from giggling.  After Mass, we laughed heartily,  and now we've made a connection.  Now when we meet, we smile and greet each other warmly  I wonder if I've happened upon a secret for developing fellowship...

My father and my uncle owned and operated a grocery store in Paris, IL, for nearly fifty years.  When my dad died in 1995, many people came to pay their respects and tell their stories.  One lady's story has stuck with me.  When she was a young mother of several children, her husband was a truck driver.  He wasn't due home for another week and she was out of food.  She didn't know my dad, but she asked if she could get just what she needed for the week, and she would pay for the groceries when her husband returned.  My dad agreed.  She was careful to only get necessities to tide over the family. As she was walking out the door, my dad threw in a big bag of bubble gum.  She said that she knew at that moment what kind of man he was, and she had never shopped anywhere else.

Last August my sister and I, her 14-year-old grandson, my daughter-in-law, and my nine-year old grandson went to Washington, DC.  We weren't sure how the boys would get along due to the age gap and the fact that they didn't really know each other.  Remembering how hot D.C. is in August, I had purchased  battery-powered fans that you hang around your neck. You can also fill them with water to spray your face. They are nifty little gadgets, and I got one for each of us.  Little did I know that their value would far exceed their ability to keep us cool.  The boys got a huge kick out of spraying each other as well as the adults. The 14-year-old is an agile athlete who could spray the mini-fan behind his back, under his leg, under his arm, you name it.  Of course, these sprays came when you least expected them.  He would pretend to look over his grandma's shoulder as she was looking at the map and then surprise her with a spray.  The nine-year-old was very sneaky and liked to administer full face spray attacks. We grown-ups were also able to spray the boys when they were sleeping through a museum presentation or refusing to wake up.  We ladies also enjoyed spraying each other. These surprise attacks kept us laughing for four days.  Of the many photos taken on our trip. the one voted the best is the one above. It shows my great-nephew spraying his grandma as she throws her head back in a laugh. While we saw many interesting attractions in Washington, D.C., the fun we had with those spray fans is something we will always remember.

It's hard to predict when item or action will create a connection among people.  It can be a mishap, a small act of kindness, or a random purchase. We need to cherish these connections however they occur.

Praying, saying, and spraying,

I remain

Tizzie/Tiz/Liz/Elizabeth/Tizmom/Mom/Grandma