I lost my penpal on Friday

Much more than my penpal, actually.  My grandmother passed away at the ripe old age of 98.  As it often happens with those in that age group, she fell and broke her hip a week prior (after having come through a break + surgery on the other hip about a year ago).  She came through the surgery fine and was in the nursing home for recovery.  On Friday, she wasn't feeling well and they were waiting for the doctor to figure out what was going on.  About 2 hours later, I got the call that she had passed.

I knew her time here was limited due to simple math, but there's a part of me that expected her to keep plugging along indefinitely and it's hard to believe that this fixture in my life is gone.

I feel extremely fortunate to have had her around for as long as I did.  And with that come the regrets associated with events like this.  I wish I lived closer.  I wish I had known her better.  I wish I had spent more time with her.  I wish I had asked her those family history questions that I had been meaning to ask.

They don't make them like her anymore.  She was born in 1918, and thus witnessed events that most on this planet haven't.  WWII and the Depression shaped her.  She was a single mother back when it wasn't commonplace.  She worked in a factory for over 40 years to support herself and her son.  She scrimped, she saved, and she paid cash for all of her houses.  Needless to say, she was frugal!  But she was not stingy.  She offered me a generous interest-free loan when I bought my first house because she thought that real estate was a good investment.  She lived a simple life and had a positive outlook.  She made the most of what she had and found the good in every situation.  I never heard her complain.

She loved to cook and always made delicious meals when we'd visit.  She made great spaghetti and I still haven't figured out how to replicate it.  Another regret is that I never got a lesson from her on making pigs in a blanket (cabbage rolls).  I have the recipe somewhere and will just have to muddle through it on my own one of these days.

She was also my biggest champion.  She was everyone's biggest champion, no matter what.  When she got the news that I had gotten married (we had never discussed my sexuality but grandmothers know things), she sent $20 and a wedding card with the sweetest note inside.  She made a point to welcome Lori as her new granddaughter. She was 96 at the time.

We exchanged letters during those years that we didn't live in the same city.  I could always count on her letters to be stuffed with thoughtfully curated newspaper clippings about topics she knew interested me.  Mostly dogs and bikes.  As she got older and her eyes began to fail her, she still wrote and sent the occasional clipping, though I know it was a big struggle for her to read and write.  Not being able to read the newspaper every day had to have broken her heart.  But she soldiered on with nary a complaint, making the best of every day.  I printed my recent letters in large font for her, which she appreciated.  I received my last letter from her in the form of a birthday card on Sept. 20th.  Always on time.  And a bicycle themed card, too.

We had a visit to see her on tap, with arrival slated for Oct. 10.  Selfishly, I was hoping she'd hang on until we got there, but she had other plans.  And that's okay.  She would have been so pissed to while away her remaining days confined to a bed in a nursing home.  I think she'd had enough of knee pain, limited mobility and impaired vision.  I believe she checked out on her own terms, just like she lived her life.  There are many things I will miss about her but she left behind an example for me to emulate for the rest of my years.

Her last words to me in that card were "Have a pleasant trip.  See ya,  Love Grandma Sally."  And to you, Grandma.

Life is a Wheel

I went to a book signing at the Tattered Cover last night with the author of Life is a Wheel, Bruce Weber.  I certainly would have liked to have seen a better turnout (Denver, where were you?), but the low turnout may well have been due to the late evening start time of 7:30.  I was among the youngest--if not the youngest--in the crowd, so the late hour probably kept the rest of the geezers at home.  Good thing the venue is close to the house or I would have stayed home myself.  I also had the odd realization that I'm careening toward my late 40's and thus not THAT much younger than those I have labeled geezers.  Sigh.  And, the appeal of a book written by a 60-year-old obituary writer who just happened to ride a bike cross-country is going to skew older.  So it goes.

Still, I am enjoying the book thus far.  I like the writer's style, although it's familiar to me since I followed the series in the New York Times when he did the ride in 2011.  The photo that most appealed to me in that series was this one:

The author is riding the ferry across Lake Michigan into Muskegon, the city where I was born.  While Muskegon didn't merit much of a mention in the blog or the book (and why would it?  It's a city that was already well in decline by the time I was born forty blah blah years ago), the photo has stayed with me.  But, I've always wanted to take the ferry across the lake, with my bike, of course, so this image appealed to me on a few levels.  It sounds like a total hoot to take the ferry over to Milwaukee, catch a Brewers game, then back home the next day.  While a cross-country bike tour may or may not be in the cards for me, a cross-lake tour is in my sights.

Anyway, pick up the book if you're interested in a book about a cross-country bike tour with a memoir thrown in for good measure.  Good stuff.

Michael Moore in Muskegon!

Michael Moore showed up in Muskegon (the town where I was born) this week to help raise money for a local movie theater.  Say what you want about Michael Moore, but he's doing really great things in Michigan--and everyone knows that Michigan can use all the help it can get right now.

Michael Moore visits the Harbor Theater

Thanks Michael!