Florida: an addendum

I take it back Sea Shell.  I'm sorry I said those things.  I really did enjoy visiting you.  And in retrospect, I think I might just bring my family.  Well, that's if I ever find myself in Naples without a place to stay, which I hope doesn't happen anytime soon.  But, I did love your authenticity, your simplicity and even your subtle charm.  Perhaps I'll see you around.  I'll be sure to wave hi the next time I'm swerving along 41 trying to get out of the way of the blue hairs on my way to Tin City.  Thanks Sea Shell.

I can't tell if I was to critical of Naples.  I can't remember now if I just thought all those nasty things about the richey-richey aspect of the city, or actually wrote it.  No matter, I'm here to set the record straight: it's a complicated town.  Well, to me at least.  I actually believe that nasty thing I just wrote.  But I also believe that I thoroughly enjoy my visits.  Sure, family plays a part in that.  But it's so nice and clean and warm and full of sandy public beaches in a mostly warmish Gulf.  I can see the allure.  I really can.  But man, I'd never want to live there.

Florida 2.3.2

"It's just so sad" is what she said as began to cry.  It's the same thought I have sitting here on the plane heading home.  It's just so sad.

He is dying.  You can see it.  You can see it in his body.  Hell, he'll tell you as much.  But mostly you can see it in his eyes as they well up thinking about a future without him.  It's just so sad.

But it's also life. And we can choose to dwell on the sadness, or look for something to feel good about no matter how small it might be. I hope my visit was that.  I can't do much from three thousand miles away, but if I can make his day, just that one day, a little brighter, then hopefully I've done something right.

Part of me wishes I would have gone back today.  Particularly after Nana came home after her lunchtime visit with a message from papa to tell me thanks for stopping by.  "Thank God" she said reflecting on him having a smile on his face.  I'm not sure whether to laugh or cry.  It makes me want to do both.

I was worried that my visit might not be well received.  That it would piss everyone off and leave a bad memory of him. Instead I have a version of him that I'd never thought I'd see.  I don't know whether death tricks you into somebody your not, but for those two hours, I saw a version of Doug I hadn't seen before.  He's still not perfect. No one is.

If embody my inner Doug and keep doing what I want, then I think I've got some freedom to do more.  I think I'll start simple with just a letter.  I'm not sure what I'll right, but it'll be something honest, something lighthearted and something that just might put a smile on his face.

I'd like to do the same for Nana.  Lauren has spoke often of helping out with Grandpa Lloyd.  Just bringing him groceries or showing up to say hello and chat.  Nana seems in need of that, but all I could do was fix the closed captioning on her TV.  Her eyesight and hearing seem to be on the verge of going, so although today didn't seem any different than usual, those issues are on her way.  And with that, she'll need help.

So, what's next?  I'm not exactly sure, but I do know that I can't just walk away from this with only a memory.  There's got to be more to it, but what, I'm not yet sure.

Florida 2.3

So, here I am, sitting by myself in Nana and Papa's condo at the Brittany in sunny Naples, Fl.  I've just been down enojoying a dip in the pool and sunning myself, but now I sit here having weird morbid thoughts like:  "I'm hungry.  Should I be fininshing up food that Papa would have eaten, but Nana won't.  And if so, which foods are those exactly?  I've already been told not to drink the milk and that she's dependant on Patty for groceries.  So, I don't want to eat her out of someting else.  Well, I'd like some chips.  Does she eat chips?  I know he does.  Man, all these bags are open and mostly eaten, which means I'm going to have to finish something off.  Hmmm, that Chex mix looks good.  Boy, I'd miss that if someone else ate it.  Ah, pita chips.  I'm pretty sure that's a Papa food, we'll go for that"

And so I settle for Pita chips, some left over fruit from Missey being here and a 7 Up Ten, which I'm fairly certain Nana doesn't drink and after a few sips, certain that no one should.  Odd times bring out odd thoughts and actions.

I'm glad I'm here though.  It's a comfortable place.  Both literally and figuractively.  And a heck of a lot better than the motel or trying to figure out where to park my butt for the rest of the day.

Nana is in good shape all things considered.  Sure, she's got a broken back, a dying husband and is in the process of moving into a new spot.  But, she's strong.  Stronger than she might think.  It's not an easy time and she's well aware of that, but she seems hopeful.

Two weeks ago, if you would have asked me, I would have offered up "Seeing Nana" as a prime reason for coming down.  But this being a clandestine effort, that was put on hold to a certain extent.  Dad, via Papa, gave me the clearance and so after talking to her last night, I came by around 10am.

I guess I had hoped that at some point in the trip, I'd spend some time at somebody's place.  No offense Sea Shell, but your pool just isn't the Brittany's.  And after seeing Papa, I felt like it would be good to catch up with the other side.

So after explaining her broken back to me, we sat and chatted about everything.  It started emotionally, but veered toward what lies ahead.  While she might rather stay at the Brittany, a move to this new condo in Pelican Bay seems to be better for everyone.  It's going to be a process, no doubt, but at the same time, she doesn't seem too stressed out about it.  Papa was telling me yesterday that they can go ahead and give away all his clothes, but she's not ready for that.  "He's not dead yet!" she said.

She didn't offer and I didn't ask, so off she went to see Papa alone while I caught up on my lack of vitamin D with a couple hours by the pool.  And I now have a pink nose to prove it.

An awfully white, but warm blogger

Florida 2.2.2

Traveling alone is an interesting proposition.  I've done a lot of it over the years.  Business trips will do that.  But this trip takes the cake in terms of uniqueness.  Even on a business trip, there's people to see, work to be done and in the end, you keep relatively busy.  One skill you develop that comes in handy on days like these is eating alone.  Some might call in room service and keep on working, but I've always liked getting out and seeing things.  And as I'm not one to socialize, you become adept at entertaining yourself or simply being comfortable sitting at a bar sipping a couple beers.

So I put those skills to work as I toured Naples for the day.  Yes, word quickly got out that I was here, but by that point, I was far enough into the trip that I needed to finish the way I started.  

After checking out and back in at my motel due to a room change, which was due to my last minute decision to stay two nights at the Sea Shell, which was due to me finding out last minute my dad wouldn't be in town, I jumped into my little Ford Fiesta and took a field trip to the local Total Wine.  Lame perhaps, but with no Florida rep, I thought maybe I'd help Summit out and have a look at the product placement.  But with the previous evenings beers still throbbing in my head, I managed to walk out with out a treat for myself.  

From there, I made the quick drive over towards Nana and Papa's condo.  At this point nana was over visiting papa, and I wasn't quite ready for that interaction yet anyway, so I parked, changed into my running clothes and headed off down Gulf Shore Blvd.  It's a run I've done before and was needed to shake out the cobwebs.  It was kind of odd to come so far and be so close and not say hi, but I'd get to that tomorrow.  Again,finish how I started.

The great thing about Naples it's that the city owns the beach front.  Maybe that's typical, but on a street lined with million dollar condos, you'd think you'd be confined to a small public beach far removed from the area.  But no, instead there's lots every few blocks with direct access.  So after swinging by Fresh Market for a sandwich, I parked and headed to the beach.

Remember that crummy weather from earlier?. Well, the rain may have stopped and the sun may have come out, but it was windy as all get out.  So, I only lasted so long as it took to eat my sandwich and watch the para-sailors before retreating to a more secluded park bench where I sat and vegged for a while.

That eventually ran its course and besides, I needed a shower.  So back to the motel to clean up and get some more of the work done that I'd been intermittently doing since I arrived.

From there it was on to dinner...somewhere.  Tonight it would be the 3rd street area.  It's old Naples, and an area I've heard about, but never really been to.  What it ended up being, to me at least was exclusive, exclusionary, expensive and any other ex word you can think of.  Planting myself at the bar of one of the lesser busy and more relaxed looking restaurants, I managed through a decent pizza and a couple beers.  When that had run its course, it was back to the Sea Shell with a brief pit stop for some beers.

And so that was pretty much my day.  Keep moving, venture out, but relax.  

Florida 2.2

Where do I even start.  Probably not with a sentence like that, but whatever.  The deed has been done, mission accomplished.  And it went remarkably well.

I don't know that I can honestly say that my biggest fear coming into today was what Papa's reaction would be.  I'm not sure I was fearful of anything.  But those that came before me all left with the same, silent result.  So, while I felt I could accomplish something different, that didn't mean I didn’t have a storm of emotion running through my body. 

I had decided early on that I would try to be at his "home" around eight.  The idea was to try and miss Nana so that I could not only get one-on-one time with him, but to also simply things.  That's been a theme of this trip: Don't tell anybody I'm coming…it's simpler that way. 

I think I finally came to this morning around 7:30 with a nice reminder of the several beers the night before.   But, no matter, it was mission time.  I dragged my feet a little and finally got out of here around 8:30.  The drive was a straight shot up US41, ending up off Pelican Bay at a place called Glenview.  I had probed Lauren for info on his whereabouts and condition yesterday, so while I knew the building and that he had been doing well, I didn't know the room or whether he'd gotten worse recently. 

Florida decided to welcome my big day with rain and wind.  But, once you know Florida, you know that a storm never lasts.  And so after walking by his room a few times wondering what the hell I was doing, I finally popped in and said "Hi Papa".  The look he gave me was exactly what I imagined he'd given the grandkids prior to me: a blank stare, seemingly devoid of emotion, but with some complex cauldron of anger and yearning bubbling underneath.  And so for a split second, I thought "uh-oh".  But the situation changed quickly.  He smiled, said my name and something like "what are you doing here".  I went to sit down in a chair only to be immediately told to move closer so he could hear.  And just like that, I was in.

Part of me says I should recount the whole of the conversion we eventually had.  But, I I think that results in boring reading.  Perhaps I'll get there eventually, but for now, it's more about the moment.  And this moment lasted about two hours; two hours of emotion, two hours of laughing, telling stories and watching him, for the first time in my life, shed a tear.  This was Papa at his most raw.

It strikes me now, at the end of the day, that I got to spend 40 years getting to know my grandfather.  I can't say that I was particularly interested in doing that all those years, but I do feel fortunate to have had so much time.  With mom and dad having me young, I think I've taken for granted having both sets of grandparents around for most my life.  But, while taking that for granted, I also admittedly didn't push getting to know them better.  Part of it was simply proximity: living in Chicago and L.A. and eventually the other side of the world in St. Paul.  But, these past several years, for me at least, I've felt the pull to get to know what I have left better.  It helps that Papa is no shirking violet, so you only have to sit down in front of him for the conversation to start flowing.  And while I can't say I've come away from all this with any grand life lessons, I have a greater appreciation for who we, the Johnsons, are.  And I think that important.  It's important to know where you came from, and to understand the dynamic that is our family. 

And if I thought I knew plenty coming into today, I left knowing even more.   Such as?  He started Midwest Business Products at 40 years old.  I'm 40 years old!  He had over a $100K in capital at that time to start the business, which now might be about $500K.  (No conversation with Papa is devoid of dollars)  So much for funding a fledgling business via a credit card.  The man knew what he was doing. 

He spoke often today about the importance of family.  Why didn't he ever belong to a country club?  Besides feeling like most guys were there to drink, he didn't have time to golf because he was more interested in spending time at home, with the fam.  This is me reading into his comments, but it's as if his reason for having a home on Lake Sweeney in Golden Valley was more about giving his kids a playground rather than some sort of status. 

When I worked at Midwest back in high school, working in the warehouse filling orders for all the schools they were doing business with, I remember that people feared Doug.  He had a tongue that would make a sailor blush and expected highly of everyone.  But to me, he was Papa.  And around this time, the 2nd set of grandkids started coming around: Nick, Marissa, Alex, Erica, Dana… and he doted on those kids.  Man, he was at his happiest when they were around.  And it becomes clearer now: a family man.

Which is why I still struggle with his desire not to see these same grandkids.  Don't get me wrong, I understand it on the face of it.  He's the patriarch…leave them remembering you at your most full.  But, wouldn't he be happier?  Perhaps not though…for as much as he seemed today to accept the inevitable, it still clearly made him very sad.  Anytime the conversation veered toward Nana or a grandchild, he got very emotional.  But, I still can't help thinking that spending whatever time has left simply being with his grandkids, would make his days a little more joyful. 

At the end of it though, he was glad I came.  And I was as well.  It'll be a moment I won't soon forget.  

I've debated whether to go back tomorrow, but I think I won't.  For most, I'm sure this would be a stupid question.  Why the hell wouldn't you?  Spend every last minute you can with him!  Give him some remedy from the monotony that must be his day.  But, I can't help but believe there's something different about this situation.  It's been so difficult to simply get this far, and after walking away happy, I don't want to ruin that.  Perhaps that's selfish, but after listening to Papa tell me more than once today about his "me-first" approach to life, I guess I'm simply going to a take that advice.   The apple doesn't fall far the tree, I guess.

Florida 2.1.2

The Sea Shell Motel:  I'm pretty sure that the only way I'd ever stay here is on my own.  On one hand, it feels totally safe, being off the main drag going into "downtown" Naples.  But, I can't help craning my neck every time an odd sound comes by.  Let's just say that however cheap this place is, it's not cheap enough to feel entirely comfortable bringing my family here.  It's everything a motel should be: off a main drag, mostly single level with each room opening to a corresponding parking spot, thin walls and only the basic amenities.  But, at least at the Sea Shell, it's also a motel that's clearly cared for.  It's clean, it smells good, the grounds are kept and it's even got a pool that you might actually want to use!  But again, it's a place of convenience, not of comfort. 

Yet!  Yet, I can't help but wonder if someone in my family stayed here once, sometime long ago, on an initiation trip to Naples perhaps.  Back when it wasn't much more than a strip of beach and a bunch of wide-eyed ideas.  Maybe I should ask Doug about that tomorrow.  Why Naples?  I'm pretty sure there wasn't much here prior to 1970, so why did he have a condo on the beach circa 1976, in which I made my first trip on a plane.  Was it apparent then that this was to become Minnesota South?  Or was there a gamble involved… I'm momentarily feeling better about my course of conversation tomorrow. 

Regardless, I find myself in this motel, not more than a few blocks off the main strip in Naples, frequented by the rich and white; something I was reminded of while walking up and down 5th street tonight.  All glitzy and expensive.  But, I had just come from Tin City, the capital of cheap, Naples tourism: t-shirts, shells and seafood, right on the water.   And as such, I find myself conversely feeling the safety of Naples and the caution that comes with a motel. 

Get over it, I suppose.  I'm in the middle of what's likely one of the richest zip codes in all of Florida.  Perhaps I don't get out much.  Perhaps, I'm too comfortable in my little liberal enclave of rich St. Paul.   Perhaps I'm too ingrained with the "$20/lb cheese" crowd. 

Whatever.  I'm not going to lose sleep over my cheese eating habits.  But, I may just lose sleep over how they've skewed my reality.  

Although, I am likely to lose sleep over my late night eating an drinking habits.
This post, was of course, in no way influenced by any of these substances.

Dallas

I should say a bit about Dallas before leaping into Florida part II:

Ann's in Dallas, I'm not.

Say more?  I suppose.

While I can't say anything about her trip, (I had to ask her why she was going as we were walking out the door) I can say that's it been a trip.

Wow, how cozy I've gotten in my confines of Ann not working.  How cozy I've gotten in having little responsibility getting the kids to school or picking them up.  And how jarring it was to take back on that responsibility.

Now, not all of that is true.  I have been poking Cailin in the morning, of late to get her out of bed.  I figure that as long as I'm up and trying to get to work by seven, I might as well lend a hand.  Besides, in this frozen tundra called Minnesota, it may actually be nice to give her a ride once in a while.   But, picking them both up and trying to get to the grocery store after work?  Wow, there's a blast from the past.  But wait, what about Dallas!  Ah, um, I have no idea.

I can only shake my head and laugh at my brief, re-initiation to busing kids and feeding them within a short period of time.  Back in the day (yes, please give a hearty laugh at that), it was the usual.  But with Ann working from home and my Summit hours adding up, I've quickly forgotten my old routine.  That said, it's not lost on me that the whole ordeal is pretty simple and I've got nothing to complain about, even thought I'll try.

So what stands out from Ann's trip to Dallas is an awaking to what I used to do everyday.  Sorry Ann, wish I could say more, but how quickly we forget.

Florida 2.1

I'd say i'm back, but I was never here to begin with.  Instead, I actually got here.  Where is here?. Well, technically speaking, it's at the Sea Side Motel off Tamiami trail in Naples, florida.  A fine motel that I havent actually spent more than a few minutes in, but noisily off the main drag going into downtown Naples.

So, I sit here in the common area, the only place with Wi-Fi, sipping my 16 oz can of Sierra Nevada Torpedo IPA ( which is kind of lame by the way), entering my first post.  What can I say, it's five hours into the trip and I can only describe my feelings so far as being confused.

I'm going to see Papa tomorrow in what is turning out to be a clandestine appearance.  Only Ann knew I was coming.  I've since let the cat out of the bag to my two siblings.  But, what of it.

What I know is that I'm slowly drinking the night away in an effort to forget what i'm heading into and perhaps get some sleep.  I'm optimistic it works, although I'm a bit more realistic that it won't.

I sat at home last night debating the merits of what I'm trying to do.  And as I sit here 24 hours later, and less than 12 hours to go, I'm still doing the same.  At the end of the day though, I have to keep going.  The problem, however, is still why.

Look, at the mostly simple, it just a chance to see Doug.  But, it's not that simple.  Why?  Because I feel like i have to make up a story just to do that.  Isn't it entirely lame that I'm not telling anyone I'm here?  In a place where my grandma and aunt/uncle live, I'm renting a motel room/?   It certainly seems like it.  But, this is the only way it's going to get done.

Three grand children have gone to see him so far, to my knowledge.  And the common theme has been that each visit has been "short".  Well, screw that.  I'm not here to say good-bye, I'm here to say hello.  I'm here to check up on him and chat for a while.  He's not dead, you know.  And if I'm in Florida, warming myself, why the hell wouldn't I sit and chat with him.

Florida: 1

The past two years have brought event-like trips, and with them a series of bloggings that apparently some people like to read.  I don't know, I suppose there's some value in documenting the adventures of this fair family.  Or perhaps more accurately, the meanderings of my mind.  

But this year offers no such trip.  Yet, there is plenty of travel to come.  So what is this weekend blogger supposed to do?  And what of that devoted following?  Well, if thirty out-of-order thoughts weren't different enough, I thought I'd veer in a completely different direction this year and simplify.  And by simplify I mean documenting all the travel for the year.

It seems an inauspicious start to begin the year with a trip that didn't happen.  It might happen.  But, just not right now.  

As you might have guessed from the title, I was supposed to go to Florida.  Just myself.  No fellow travelers.  And for a singular purpose: Papa Doug.  Ooh, that seems so heavy seeing that there in type.  Frankly, that's probably apropos.  

I'd rather not spend 2000 words rehashing the past two weeks leading up to this, but context is necessary.  Papa Doug of course is dying.  It's been this way for five months since he was diagnosed with acute leukemia back in August.  But of recent, things are worse.  Or so I've been told.  But, are they really?  

Well, if they are, I felt a strong desire that I should go see him.  But, I'm not.  I'm sitting here writing instead, mostly trying to figure out what the hell is going on.  Both with him, and with me.  

After getting the Heisman those closest to him, I eventually retreated and raised the white flag.  Instead of getting on a plane this afternoon for a quick, weekend, trip down to Naples, I threw up my arms and said "fine, if no one wants me there, I'm not coming."  My dad has recommended I don't come, he won't tell Nana because he's afraid she'll flip out and in no such uncertain terms, Papa Doug doesn't want to see any of his grandchildren.  It's complicated.

I could on about why, but I want to get to the crux of the matter.  I'm no psychologist, but man, it seems he's one angry dude.  Or afraid.  Or completely out of his element...which makes him afraid...which makes him angry.  Seems like a vicious cycle that has led him to not wanting to see his grandkids and get crabby (to put it kindly) with his kids and generally pissing people off.  

But what of it.  Why should I care?  I suppose I should care because he's my grandfather.  The only one I have left, and as the end nears, the time I have left to spend with him lessens.  But then again, this isn't a man who I've spend some grand amount of time with in my life.  I certainly have a lot to thank him for, but no different than any of my grandparents, I've never developed any sort of deep relationship with him.  So, will I be sad when he goes?  Sure, but the time comes for everyone and he's led a pretty full life.  

So, again, why would I want to see him now.  Some seem to think it's to say goodbye.  I'm not so sure.  It's never struck me that I want to walk into his room at the nursing home and make peace with the situation with some parting words.  I'm not sure what I'd say anyway, and I'm not sure what use saying "good-bye" would do anyway.

What I keep coming back to is just sitting there talking to him.  It's been something I've enjoyed since moving back to Minnesota several years ago and having the opportunity to hang out at his pool and shooting the breeze.  His stories are great and he's been through so much that there's never any shortage of things to learn.  So what would I do with one last time.  Or do I even think about it as "one last time."  Maybe I do in the sense that I might not see him again.  But I don't in the sense that my intention isn't to say good-bye.  

Be that as it may, he's not making this easy.  In fact, I've decided he's making this hard.  He's pushing people away and pissing people off.  Any correspondence with my dad is full of frustration and anecdotes of Papa wanting this to end yesterday.  And if Doug doesn't want anyone to see him, and gets snipping with those who do, why would he be any different with me.  And if not any different, what kind of conversation would I get out of him.  

But, being of his lineage, I think I'm different.  I have this small thought that I can somehow break through.  Arrogance is like that you know.  

What do I do?  This trip has come and gone, so there's no immediacy.  Except that he might die tomorrow.  I think I'm sick of trying to coordinate this with anybody down in Florida.  There's too much baggage, frustration, heartache and whatever else is making everyone tell me not to come.  If it happens, it's got to be on my own.  And for my own reasons.