In the beginning

Born and raised in the Midwest in the 50s and 60s, my life experience was safely narrow. Mike and I married in 1972 as we finished college, as people did in those days, unaware that rules could be and would soon be brazenly broken. It never occurred to us to break them.

 

And all was good

We lived the life we were raised to live, what we thought was the typical life, following the job and moving up in real estate, which seems to be a novel idea among the young these days. Our two daughters came quickly. Eighteen months in Schwetzingen, Germany became a historical reference point for events in our life: before and after Germany.

 

And got better

Was I bored, premenopausal, crazy? It was disconcerting that my body would not produce another baby when the first two were so easy. We moved on with life forgetting plans for a third child until God decided we needed a shake up, sending a stork to drop off our son. New reference point: before and after C-boy.

 

And then

Weary, sick of, exhausted by? I see a theme. Whatever, armed with a degree that trained me for a respectable income, I announced that we were moving to Arizona for clear skies, dry heat, and extended family. New reference: before Arizona.

 

At this time...

Misha, out of college and independent was ready for a new setting. She also headed to the southwest to seek her fortune. Nini Dair eventually joined us in Arizona and finished school in Flagstaff. Within a few years, she returned to the Midwest, opting not for the burbs but for the action in the city of Chicago.

 

C-boy survived childhood...

in Arizona and gave up his childhood dream of living in a trailer and wearing shorts all year, following his sister to Chicago, which is, I must say, more interesting than where I had spent most of my life. His future bride went with him.  

 

The ball starts spinning

Since the move to Arizona in 1994, Misha wandered through California and parts of Colorado, marrying and moving to South Dakota. Amazingly through what appears on paper chaotic, she picked up remarkable professional skills and networks that would serve her for years. Following a move back to Arizona with her husband and son, and the birth of a second son, Misha bravely tackled dissolving the unhealthy marriage, unhealthy for all parties, and becoming a single mother. Truly single: no Dad weekends or financial support. Believe me, it is better this way.

My mother lived the final three years of her life in our home. Then the house was empty, and restlessness plagued me. There’s that theme again. Mike and I considered downsizing. Which leads to . . .

 

What is this about?

It all started as house-sharing. And someday there may be a whole book drawing you into our adventures. But for now, understand that we share the house with Misha and her boys. Misha is financially and emotionally independent, but the arrangement allowed us to help with carpooling, babysitting when Misha traveled, and other normal grand-parent stuff. We also eat well because Misha loves to cook.

 

Dogs, really?

We have a dog, which astounds my friends aware of my earlier apprehension of animals. C-Boy’s now deceased American Bulldog Jigga was fostered to Misha when he moved to Chicago. The fostering became full-time parenting. During the years, we all fell in love with this remarkable animal. Our hearts were broken when we had to put Jigga down, so Luna, a basset-lab mix, was adopted to be the object of our love. 

 

These creatures taught me to love animals, to appreciate their personalities, and be in awe of their unconditional love. Those mentioned enjoyed life with extended family, the “dog cousins” we called them, during family get togethers. They were like a second set of children and often just as annoying.

 

Note: If Luna had been the first, there might not have been a second.

 

And Others

We have plenty of extended family nearby and actually get along. Pre-Covid, we had an active social life, opening our home frequently for casual entertaining. Post-Covid social life is slower. The grand children and their friends are nearly adults, rarely joining in on the family activities. The adults (dolts, Mowgli always called them) are older, preferring to end the rousing game of Tripoli by 8:00 to get home to book and bed or Midsomer Murders.