Catching Some Waves

At the end of June, I was finally able to get away from Minneapolis for a week-long vacation, my first one in four years. I travelled to Virginia Beach to see my old friends from grad school -- Pat and Don. They live in a scenic quiet neighborhood in small, white, one-story house on Shakespeare Drive, about fifteen minutes from the Atlantic ocean. I first met Pat and Don in the fall of 1968 when I was on a four-year PhD fellowship in English Literature at Ohio State. I met Pat in an old English class and Don in the dorm where I was staying. He was also on a PhD fellowship in industrial psychology. The three of us got to be friends and Pat and Don eventually married.

Unfortunately, a few years ago Pat had two strokes which forced her to give up teaching, limited her mobility, and affected her speech. This often made it hard for me to understand what she was saying. During my visit, Don took care of her full-time, along with the help of three hired caregivers, two of whom were disabled themselves, and all of whem I liked a lot. The four of them came up with a practical daily routine which involved getting Pat out of bed in the morning, transferring her into her wheelchair, preparing her meals, and setting her up in her living room tilt chair to watch her favorite TV program -- Columbo. In the meantime, Don did all the grocery shopping, cleaning, and other household tasks, as well as scheduling appointments.

During the week, Don and I shared the cooking. While Don made felaffelburgers and a salmon casserole, I cooked lasagne and beef stroganoff. In the eveings the three of us enjoyed dinner with wine, while listening to our favorite classical music selections.

Depite the fact that Don had a lot on his plate during my visit, he still found time for us to do fun things. One afternoon, their son Joshua came to visit with his Turkish wife Nesha and their three grand-daughters. We all played a goofy board game that Don and one of the grandkids had invented. Because I had injured my knee (torn meniscus), Don showed me how to use his treadmill. One cool morning, he and I took a dip in his backyard hot tub. Another day, I picked blueberries and blackberries from their garden. And one afternoon, we went swimming in the ocean on a hot, sunny, picture-perfect day when the waves were just high enough to be envigorating, but not so high as to be dangerous.

During the week, the three of us watched movies on their DVD player. One of these was a great Clint Eastwood film called Grand Torino. The other one was a classic Japanese film about an aging bureaucrat with stomach cancer who finds a way to enjoy the final weeks

of his life. And when we weren't busy cooking, taking care of Pat, watching TV, and attending to various household tasks, Don and I had lots of time to reminisce about our old times back at Ohio State. I really admired Don's dedication in taking care of Pat who was often quite demanding. But I noticed that he took it all in stride and was quite able to hold his own. Yes, I'm really glad that I took this trip during which I was able to renew my friendship with Pat and Don.