Parental Visits

Over at The Milk Bar this morning, Amanda has a short post about the arrival of her mother for a visit. She wrote about how happy her son is to see his grandmother, and included a photo of the goodies her mother brought along that she can't get in Indonesia.

That got me to thinking about parental visits.

Because of my military career, which involved living in lots of places not always convenient to visit, we didn't have that many parental visits, and so my children grew up without much contact with their grandparents. I had two memorable visits from my parents when I was living in Germany, but - because of their varying work schedules and commitments - they had to come separately. Dad visited while I was living in Berlin (and there's a great three-beer story of how he and I faced down the Russians at Checkpoint Bravo). Mom visited while I was in Wiesbaden, with a list of things she wanted to do on the only trip she'd probably ever make to Europe: it included visiting a castle (which we did), driving along the Rhine (which we did), and drinking coffee and eating cake in a sidewalk cafe. Despite the fact that we had an unexpected cold snap while she was visiting (in May, no less), she still insisted on that coffee and cake in the sidewalk cafe...and so it was that at the Cafe Maldaner in Wiesbaden, we were served by a shivering young lady who probably thought we were totally nuts.

Agnes's parents have visited us from Germany many times, and their visits are always an experience: since they don't speak any English, it's hard for them to get around on their own, and since we live in a typical American suburb, they don't have all the stores and services within easy walking distance that they're used to. But nevertheless, we've always enjoyed their visits. Like Amanda's mother, they always showed up with lots of "stuff" for us...they usually had either an extra suitcase or an extra-large one filled with Swiss chocolate for Agnes, Mama's handmade socks for me (that's a story for another time), and all the other goodies we can't get (or can't afford) here.

But time passes. My mother passed away in 2001, my father and Agnes's mother are both 85, and her dad is 89. My dad still visits occasionally (most memorably last Thanksgiving, which you may have read about in this space), but Agnes's parents probably won't be able to make the long trip to the States again...they want to visit (certainly to see their first great-grandchild), but they're not as young and mobile as they used to be. I think a trip to Germany to visit them may be in our not-too-distant future.

We used to joke about reaching the "PSP" - the Parental Saturation Point, where you're glad your parents visited, but you're ready for them to leave. As time goes on and everyone gets older, we think less about the PSP and more about the simple pleasure of seeing and holding and loving the people who held and loved us for so many years.

In a time when we're all busy all the time, and our families are spread out across the US and the world, it's hard to maintain the traditional family ties we once enjoyed. The periodic reunions of Mom's side of the family were the high points of many summers, but it's been many years since we've been able to attend one. I hope to keep up a closer connection with my children and grandchildren.

So...

The Fifth Commandment enjoins us to honor our parents. I like to think I'm half the man my father is, and I miss the puns and jokes and trading of books with my mother. I've heard all Agnes's father's war stories a dozen times, but I still listen to them, if only with half an ear. Our parents raised us and made us what we are. Honoring them in ways large and small is the least we can do.

Have a good day. More thoughts tomorrow.

Bilbo