Keeping Up

Over 44 years ago, my parents made their only trip together from Connecticut to visit us in California.   We were waiting to hear from the Orange County Adoption Agency regarding our pending adoption of a baby boy and had hoped that it might happen before my parents arrived.   But never did we imagine that it would happen while they were here.  But it did.  Three days before their arrival, the agency called and said our first child would be coming home with us on Monday.   It was perfect because we had plans to take my parents to San Francisco for the weekend.   We were so excited about Monday that I remember very little about the weekend, except that we had an ambitious sightseeing schedule and that my parents … particularly my Mom … had trouble Keeping Up with our thirty-something pace.  Yes,  we slowed down and we waited patiently.  They traipsed along gamely.   But we stuck to our schedule and saw all the sights.

This weekend, we were in Las Vegas with my daughter’s family for Thanksgiving.  If you have ever been to Vegas you know that unless you are willing to take taxis everywhere, Vegas is a walking city.   The strip and the surrounding attractions are spread out over miles along and around Las Vegas Boulevard.  There are two trams but they only stop at selected hotels and still leave you a walk to anything you’d want to see.   Parking lots are situated behind the hotels and require a long walk … through the casinos, of course … to attractions or to the Boulevard.  Traveling with my daughter, her husband and our grandkids means we are Keeping Up not only with two thirty somethings but with three energetic kids.  Between navigating our way to restaurants, the volcano at Mirage and the Wax Museum at the Venetian, we walked a lot more and a lot faster than we would on our own (my Fitbit doesn’t lie).  Saturday morning when we set out for brunch, the restaurant was a much longer walk from the parking than we anticipated, and my wife, Muri, had on sandals not walking shoes.  At thirty-five, that may mean few blisters.   At seventy, it means sore legs for several days.

If this sounds like a complaint, it’s not (OK, maybe just a little).  I am more than willing to bear down and suffer some aches for a few days so I can keep on Keeping Up in order to hang out with my grandkids.   It’s just heartwarming to realize … first hand … that Keeping Up with Muri and I all those years ago in San Francisco,  although not easy for my parents,  was a labor of love.   And I’d remind all of you out there with Younger Eyes to slow down a bit for your elders’ sake … and appreciate it when they are Keeping Up.  It’s not as easy as you think.

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Tags: family, feeling older, grandchildren, humor, senior health, travel

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