Bringing home our veterans... and neighorhoods

Like many, I am against the wars the U.S. currently finds itself embroiled in and against, God forbid, intervening anywhere else in the Middle East. We have poured too many American lives and dollars into that part of the world, and while we've made progress and gotten gratitude, we've also made enemies and gotten treachery. In my neighborhood, this national tragedy has become poignant, real, and personal.
A neighbor I do not know personally, a widowed gentleman, has lost his only son, a West Point graduate, to a suicide bomber in Afghanistan (I believe the neighbor has two daughters). Word immediately went out on the neighborhood email and there was talk of a floral arrangement. Then others, including me, began to sugget a memorial gift would be more lasting--floral arrangements wilt and are forgotten so quickly. Perhaps something to the Wounded Warrior Fund?
Then came word that the young man's comrades at West Point were setting up a college fund for the daughters left behind--ages two, four and six. Of course that's where the neighborhood gift will go. The bereaved father announced a barbecue in his back yard, following the funeral, and the entire neighborhood was invited. The service will be Saturday at our downtown Catholic cathedral.
Today comes word that those planning to attend the service should arrive early--it is expected to be crowded. And the barbecue? It's been moved to the auditorium or cafeteria or whatever of the Catholic high school because of anticipated large crowds who want to celebrate the life of one of America's finest. Yes, it will be a sad occasion, but I imagine it will also be one full of remembrances and treasured memories and a certain, restrained joy.
Somehow that news of large crowds wanting to pay tribute touched me most of all. It's proof that some of us may not want the war but we have oh-so-much respect for those who give their lives for us, protecting us to the best of their ability. I'm sure Dario Lorenzetti was dedicated to America and proud of his country with the last breath he took. RIP Dario. Some of us who did not know you in life now feel we now you in death, and we respect the life you lived.
This whole tragic event has made me feel gratitude once more for the neighborhood in which I live, this small-town-like slice of life in a big city. My neighbors support each other in joy and grief, they turn out for festive occasions and holidays, but they also look after their own and are there when  you need them.

Flying cockroaches, a shaving cream war, and a memorial of sorts

A shaving cream war at its height

Years go I had a dear friend, a generation older than myself, whose son had divorced. She remained fond of his ex-wife and her family, so she called them her outlaw family. This weekend my kids and I had a joyous reunion with my outlaw family--the New York Alters, with their indomitable (?) patriach, Uncle Mark. In the 30 years since Joel Alter and I divorced, I have seen Mark and Amy twice--in 1997 at Jamie and Mel's wedding and again in 2004 when Jordan and Christian married. We have emailed sporadically, though always warmly and with fond feelings--still there was a distance. My children have seen more of them--a few at their children's weddings, Jamie on business trips to New York, all of them on a couple of visits to Joel in the years before he died. But this was a full-blown family reunion--with their oldest daughter, Jordana, her husband Don and 15-mos. daughter Ayla, and their youngest daughter, Emily. (We were missing their son Jeremy and his wife, but hey! they have three-month-old twins and a three-year-old--would you bring that crew from Baltimore to Houston?) We gathered in Houston for two days that went by way too quickly. And there was not for one minute that awkward, "How are you?" "Well, fine, how are you?" It was instant warmth and hugs.
I've always noticed that when my children are together, the grandkids almost don't have individual parents--it's sort of like a commune, where everyone takes equal care of all the children, from handing out treats to soothing skinned knees (several, including one child run over by a bike who said he now understand why his parents tell him to be careful of cars), blackened eyes (we had one), and hurt feelings (lots of those inevitable). But Mark remarked that Ayla was immediately adopted by the children especially Maddie and Eden, both old enough to care for her. My family just absorbed these new people and went on with their usual rowdiness. And they can be overwhelming at times.
Saturday night there was a kickball game in the cul de sac, enlivened by the fact that we spectators were sitting near the strangest sewer I've ever seen--it was in someone's yard, with a concrete base and the usual sewer top. The trouble was that cockroaches (Mark called them cockaroaches--you can always tell a New Yorker!) kept crawling out of them. All the girls went hysterical and were alarmed that I, sitting nearest the sewer in a folding chair, didn't seem alarmed until one crawled up my dress and Megan nearly hit me with my walking stick in her zeal to get it off. Worst of all, these were flying cockroaches, all headed for one tree which we decided was the mating tree. They buzzed right at the girls who screamed and laughed by turns.The children of course made sport of squashing them (I wasn't sure about the bloodlust here) but the street was soon littered with dead cockroaches. Brandon went in the garage, got some insecticide and sprayed it into the sewer, so then we had double reason to warn the children away.
When Mark has been to Fort Worth for those weddings, he wanted, almost demanded, Angelo's BBQ, so Sunday lunch we went to Tin Roof in Kingwood, the closest we could come. They told us they'll be on "Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives" this week. We had an entire section to ourselves and all ate too much. The owner obligingly took a group picture, but I don't have it yet. The highlight of the day, however, was the shaving cream war. Colin spread black plastic on the grass, Lisa provided cans of shaving cream, and the kids--plus Uncle Mark--went at it. He was the only adult game enough, and I intend to warn him that Brandon put a video on YouTube and people are bound to ask "Why is that old guy in there with all those kids?" It was wild good times at their best, and we spectators--at a safe distance--thoroughly enjoyed. Afterwards, of course, there was the hosing off.

Way too soon it was late Sunday night and time for goodbye, which took forever. Don, Jordana's husband, got himself a beer, sat on the couch, and said philosophically, "I figure this will take a while." It did, and it was bittersweet but there are plans for an Alter family cruise (I hate cruises!) and more get-togethers. I hope they come true.

This was Memorial Day, and in my thoughts I honored those who have given their lives for our country. But for Mark, Amy, me and my children, it was a different kind of memorial day, a time to rehash memories, good and bad, to patch up the years that circumstances had kept us too far apart, to reaffirm our love for each other and our families. For me, personally, it was eye-opening, a bit disturbing in some things I learned, but a good experience in sharing with someone who understood some things that I had kept to myself. I feel a bit like I've been to an alternate world and it's hard to get back to my daily routine. This is me and Mark, my new-found outlaw brother-in-law who kept referring to me as his sister-in-law and gave me wonderful compliment that I'm keeping to myself.

May I exchange this day, please?

My day got off on the wrong foot. I got up early because I couldn't sleep and my thoughts were disturbing me. Probably I was grumpy, and my later troubles may have ensued from Sophie picking up on that. Morning routine--feed cat, take puppy out, feed big dog. All done. Fed the puppy in the kitchen, noticed she was sniffing suspiciously, and took her out. Big dog distracted her--no results. Brought her in and she immediately pooped in the kitchen. Finally made it, with puppy and coffee, to the office where I discovered the cat had left not puddles but lakes in "his" bathroom off the office. Closed the door and resolved to deal with it later. Then my email was down--TCU was having server problems. So I decided to put the puppy in her crate and do my chores, including cleaning that bathroom. I scrubbed it from top to bottom, emptied and scrubbed the litter box, and finally scrubbed me. By 9 a.m. when the internet came back up, I was ready to go back to bed.
No such luck--had to go to Petco for supplies and then to a doctor's appointment. Noon, and I was ready to go back to bed once again. Still no such luck. Emails to answer, a talk to prepare, this that and the other to get done. Note: no writing. Yikes! But I finally did put everyone down and get a nap. This is my last week of long afternoon naps. Next Monday I start picking Jacob up every day at three o'clock.
Tonight I'm watching Sophie like a hawk. Took her out for a long while after her supper but nada. I'm thinking the trick may be to put her in her crate--then when I take her out, she's used to going outside to pee. The other is another matter. She settled down for a while--after some scolding about going near wires--to play with her toys as if to say, "Look how good I can be." Now she's running around the office (not that large a space) like a crazy thing, working off all that energy she didn't run off outside tonight.
I've decided creativity is gone for the day. I'm going to read Susan Schreyer's An Error in Judgment.
Did have a nice dinner party last night--the family directly behind me has a 5-year-old boy, Sam, who will be going to kindergarten with Jacob, (and a three-year-old named Alex) so we invited them to supper so the boys could get acquainted, which they did after a few minutes shyness. I fixed crockpot barbecue for ten (including three little boys), baked beans (Bush's are soooo good, though next time I won't try those with maple syrup since they're a bit too sweet), and a potato chip and onion soup dip for appetizer. Susan brought a delicious salad with apples and raisins and spinach, and Sue joined us, so it was a bit like the old neighborhood group. Before I knew it, it was 8:30 and everyone was rushing off to get little ones to bed. Sue said later that she loved having the house so full of "boy energy." The girls--Jordan, Susan and Sue--did much of the basic kitchen clean-up for me, and Jordan took Sophie out. She has consistently been a huge help with Sophie.
A PS to the Sophie story: I decided after she ws so wild, it was a good time to take her out. She pooped, and I praised. Then I walked her around where she usually pees--forever. No result, so I left her alone in the office for two minutes while I got a glass of wine--and she peed. The appropriate end to this day.