Reality Check

Published 12/14/16

            Sometimes I swear my life is set up like candid camera or some kind of physical comedy . . . whatever is happening at times seems too perfectly horrid and there must be people on the other side of the camera laughing at me.

            Monday I left school for dance class with an armload of stuff. I had a reusable shopping tote containing a change of clothes, tap shoes, notebook, water bottle, and a big Bluetooth speaker. With that hanging in the crook of my elbow, I then attempted to carry a large open box, think about a 27” cube, full of boxes of dance shoes. It was a manageable weight, but just big enough to be completely cumbersome.

            The shopping bag was slippery, and the handles too short to rest on my shoulder. I couldn’t keep my elbow bent while I carried the box so it kept sliding down to my wrist, and it was too heavy to leave there while carrying a big dumb box.

            I hadn’t even made it out of the building before I had to set it all down and attempt a better grip. Of course I parked at the far end of the parking lot because I’d like to think a few extra steps are good for me. Plus I can easily back my big rig out of a spot there.

            I made it out the door and into the 4-degree weather when it was clear I was struggling. I tried walking faster and shifting my hand just slightly to maintain my grip and it all came down.

            Not on the sidewalk, or near the car, but right in the middle of the road . . . in front of the school, where surely someone was looking out the windows and seeing this. A bunch of junior high boys were loading a short bus at the time, they probably enjoyed it. My bag tipped over, my $200 speaker rolled out, and the box of shoes flew open.

            I laughed at myself and my misfortune because that’s all I could really do, then picked it all up, looked around, and started off for my car again.

            I went about two feet before my mitten-grip slipped off the corner of the box when the bag slid down my arm and I lost it all again. This time the box tipped over, too, so a bunch of dance shoes and tissue paper toppled onto the snow covered road.

            Were it not so frigid out I may have fallen to my knees at this point, in surrender of sorts. As it were there were 15 boys about to drive by and I can imagine my picture on social media with lots of snarky captions, so I had to maintain my composure.

            I ripped off my mittens and shoved them in my pockets, held the bag in my hand, balanced the box as best I could, and hightailed it to the Escalade. I carefully set my stuff down and opened the tailgate.

            When I did, all of the cardboard recycling that Jesse forgot to drop off in Willmar on Sunday came flowing out and hit me in the shins as the short bus drove past.

            Of course as I picked up one thing to shove back in the car, another two fell out. One box was full of dirt from being used to haul the carrots in from the garden (and apparently never dumped out). My hands were starting to hurt from the cold. This was becoming the longest two minutes of my life.

            I finally got everything in the vehicle, put my mittens back on my frozen hands and followed the bus out of the parking lot.

            Never have I been someone who loves warm weather, but what a difference a week makes. Last Monday I was sitting on a Hawaiian beach watching the sun set, enjoying a tropical cocktail with my feet buried in the sand. This Monday I was a clumsy idiot on display in a frigid parking lot being attacked by projectile garbage.

            Reality check.

The best day

A couple of weeks ago we went to Hawaii . . . published 12/7/16

He'd never seen the ocean.

            “You wanna learn how to do a backflip?”

            Someone next to me just asked his friend that question; not every day you hear that.

            It’s 6:00 p.m. on Monday night, Hawaiian time. Coming to you this week from my best “on location” – Waikiki Beach, Honolulu, HI.

            I am the only loser in the sand with my computer.

            The moon is bright, the water is a lovely crystal blue color; the sun has already set behind some sort of ominous rain clouds. Even in the evening the water is full of people.

            This poor guy is trying his best to back flip. I didn’t see it, but ten friends with their phones ready just doubled over in hysterics so I’m guessing it didn’t go well.

            It’s the first trip to Hawaii for us – Jesse, Axel, and I, my mom, and brothers. We jumped on the opportunity to travel with the group following the marching band to Pearl Harbor. In case you have been living under a rock and haven’t heard, the KMS Marching Band was selected to perform as part of a mass band at the 75^th anniversary ceremony of the attack on Pearl Harbor on Wednesday.

            It wasn’t that we are huge band supporters (a normal amount for having no direct ties), or that we like to vacation exclusively with one kid. Axel, an 8-year old history buff, has been obsessed with the history of Pearl Harbor for years. He moved on to that event after he seemed to exhaust his inquisition into the Titanic disaster. We knew Axel would be in heaven, so we booked the trip.

My parents always planned to go to Hawaii but my dad passed away before they made it. So when this trip came up, I asked my mom and brothers if they would like to join us, and they didn’t hesitate.

When we arrived at Rustad Tours very early Saturday morning, it appeared Axel was the only kid making the trip. People seemed surprised that we brought him, and we explained that he is one of the big reasons we decided to go. While most people looked forward to escaping the Minnesota winter, our kid dreamed of seeing the oil that still trickles out of the Arizona and meeting some real veterans.

Saturday night, after a long day of travel and an attempt to adjust to the time change, we laid low in our hotel room on Waikiki Beach. As we discussed the next day’s events, including the visit to Pearl Harbor, my mom asked how many Japanese planes were involved in the attack. We had no idea.

Axel, however, spoke up immediately: “In the first wave there were 183 planes, and in the second wave 167, and the third wave never came.”

I stared at my oldest child. He had already gone back to his battleship game on the iPad. How the hell did he know that? I mean, I know how he knows . . . he reads books and watches documentaries and retains all of it. I didn’t know how accurate his answer was at the time, but found out later he was right on.

The next day, as he almost bounced in his seat with anticipation on the drive to Pearl Harbor, the tour driver spouted off trivia and asked questions (to the grownups, likely), one being “The Navy moved its entire fleet to Pearl Harbor as a line of defense, but what was missing on December 7?”

“The aircraft carriers!” Axel shouted from the front seat. What? “That’s right!” replied the driver. People on the bus chuckled and smiled at us. They had been taken north for a training exercise, as luck would have it, and would not arrive back at Pearl until the following day. Had they been there, the course of the war would have been altered completely. Axel knew that.

He couldn't leave Hawaii without a USS Arizona commemorative hat.

We are not in the habit of spoiling our kids very often. Once in a while, of course, as most parents do. But bringing Axel to Hawaii was more about feeding a passion, not indulging a brat.

He is still playing on the beach in the dark while I write this, so he’s certainly also having fun. But we are able to give him what will long be the best day of his life, and I am thrilled to do that and see his excitement for such an important part of American history.

The triplets are planning their vacation without Axel . . . they were not happy with us for bringing him and not them, but five-year olds would not have enjoyed or been able to grasp the meaning of what we will witness here.

We’ve enjoyed Hawaii immensely to this point, and will undoubtedly be sad to leave later this week. No one will be sadder than Axel, who on Wednesday will be in his glory, and seeing him so happy will put us in ours.