What I am looking forward to when I get to the USA...

I am REALLY looking forward to seeing my Chicago sons and their ladies.

Of course, I totally want to hug him, but I will have to wait until my darling baby grandson gets used to me... (he doesn't remember me, as I was there when he was born and again when he was a wee one who napped in my arms!)

I looked forward to reconnecting with now licensed (a learners permit! AHGG!) and driving grandson in Michigan, and of course, his father, my number one and firstborn son.

I look forward to dropping into assorted bookstores in the Chicago area, both new and used, and wrapping myself up in books again.

[As an ex-librarian, that is the hardest thing to separate myself from... all the books I used to have at my fingertips!]

I will relish the delights of whiling away several hours, just book browsing! I so look forward to the smell of new books in the big bookstores, and I relish the thought of the quiet hush of concentration in the used bookstores.

I have already got my list of books by my favorite authors, and I know which one's have just published their latest!

I am totally looking forward to seeing both the ever changing Lake Michigan and the amazing skyline of downtown Chicago.

I know it will be cold and blustery but that too has it own charms.

I hope I am lucky enough to catch the last bit of fall colours as it can be a most spectacular show in the Midwest of the United States.

I know I'll get a chance to roam around downtown, and I look forward to State Street and Michigan Avenue. I plan on doing a lot of window shopping (O.K., with a few serious shopping moments) but I know I'll enjoy the hustle and bustle on the streets and I really DO enjoy riding the El train into the "Loop".!

I know I'll meet my sons for lunch downtown. I'll walk down LaSalle Street and enjoy the marvelous architecture and design of the Art Deco touches on so many buildings.

I might even find time to leave the city and head out to one of those marvelous outlet malls, that seem like self-contained foreign shopping countries...

I am looking forward to seeing my mother again, as she will be flying to Chicago for a week midway through my visit. We will scope out a few retirement places and I am even (sort of) looking forward to it, though I know it will be difficult with my mother not really wanting to move from New Mexico, but needing to. The great news will be that my mother, myself and her grandsons, will be able to enjoy a bit of the weekend together and share a couple of meals all together as a family, and make some new memories.

I have a lot to be thankful for.

But I am not looking forward to the snow, which will certainly put in an appearance and inspire me to purchase boots and a warmer coat, so I can navigate in it!

I am glad that I have sons, as at least I will not have to shovel it away!

I am currently booked to leave Corfu this Sunday morning so I am guessing, what with packing and last minute things (like getting my hair cut tomorrow!), my next post will be from the USA, and lovely Chicago.

I will try to keep the blog updated on the fate of T and the large hole (or "the abyss" as we refer to it... not fondly.) I will try and post pictures and give you a view into what I am babbling about. Sadly, T is not too technical (hahahahaha) so there won't be any good pictures of Corfu for about a month.

Sigh. I will miss this my Corfu home but I have been blessed with many places I can call home!


[The "soundtrack of my life" is currently set on Chicago Blues Music. I hope you enjoy it. If not just click it off.]

POSTSCRIPT: I will also miss my beautiful and only granddaughter Alexa, who just turned 21 years old this month, BUT as she's living in South Carolina and going to University there, I won't be able to see her. She decided to spend Thanksgiving in Washington DC, before she knew about my visit- and I am happy for her (but very sad for me!!!) The good news is that of course, being in the US will make phone calls easier. Alexa will have her own post one of these days...

Mothers and Daughters

We have a history. When your mother is 83 and you are 60, we're talking a lot of years over the dam. The funny thing about our relationship is that somewhere along the lifeline it sort of froze in time.

For my mother I will always be 16.

The stories she remembers are when I was a baby and my dad and me and mom were a perfect post war family, even though she didn't speak much English. She'd met my father during the War, and they married in Belgium while he was affiliated with the Embassy. (he was a regular "joe" during the war, but was recovering from his wounds when he met her)

The world was full of hope and, after a couple of miscarriages, a child was born! I was that perfect child.

[mom and dad and precious in the middle]

When I was five, she decided to go "home" to Belgium to introduce the family to her perfect child (and said perfect child was towed along!) while my dad stayed back in the States to wait for our return.

Back in 1955, travel was via the big Ships: we traveled on the SS Sumeria. When we arrived in Brussels, it was to discover with great sadness that her father (my grandfather) had been blinded in an explosion from a still armed WW2 bomb in the train yard where he was chief of scheduling. He'd almost died but as she was pregnant with me, at the time of the accident, her family was afraid to tell her so she wouldn't lose the baby.

[me, my mom and my grandfather walking in downtown Brussels ==> note the extreme pigeon-toed stride- I have yet to abandon completely!]

Then in what can only be described as oddly typical in my family, they forgot to tell her after I was born! This meant that when we arrived, she was confronted with the new and had no time to process it or grieve! (Meanwhile of course everyone else had had plenty of time as were a little disconcerted over her reaction!)

My memories at five were similar to being tossed about in an emotional blanket. But I remember that I learned to speak French!

In 1959 my father died. Great sadness- and for my young mother, a yearning for family.

Again with the ship: this time the SS Atlantic. My memories of making it through the grieving is mixed through the veils of two cultures. It was a strange experience (with many good memories- of course, some not so good.)

[<== still toe-ing in with the feet!]

Shortly after we arrived in Belgium, the SS Atlantic was purchased by Princess Cruise lines and we had no ship to travel home on! My first airplane flight!

A great memory... but of course it still didn't make up for losing my dad.

When we returned to the U.S.A. my mother had to work. She became a successful Interior Designer, but the cost was time.

I was fortunate that she took care to give me a great education, in an all girls convent school with great nuns to teach me and a school of great companions to live with during the school year (I was lucky to be able to go home every weekend!), and in the summer, I would go to my grandparents in Belgium during my school - 3 month- long vacation. In Belgium, I had my grandparents, my great aunts and great uncles - and my mother's sister, my aunt and her husband, my uncle as well as my only slightly older guy cousin, to spend the summer with.

I became independent in many ways, (I traveled to Europe alone!) but dependent too (European mores didn't give young ladies too much freedom even in the 60's!). Fortunately my cousin was male and we could get away with more things together than either one of us could do on our own!

Meanwhile, my mother often treated me like a sister through my teen years, but then- of course- she'd pull rank (as parents do...)

ah we both have many memories of the sixties!

Often on my weekends off she'd have to work and we'd combine a mini-holiday when her "job" had finished.

[can you tell my mother is terrified of heights?? ah the things she'd do if I "dared" her...]

These years to my mother were profoundly memorable, though for me it was so much more about what was going on outside our lives together. For her, each moment we spent together became a book of memories, shelved with all the others... our history in stone.

We are currently - as we do each time we're together- now reliving all those memories of time and place.

Not too much to do with Villa Methavrio or Greece... but Oh well!

Dekapenthimero (δεκαπενθήμερο)

Dekapenthimero (δεκαπενθήμερο) means fifteen days. T will be gone for fifteen days and I will be on my own with the dog, the cats and the grapes.

Early this morning, I drove T to the "Ioannis Kapodistrias" airport. (5:30 AM IS early.) It was surprisingly busy and teeming with people arriving, and a fleet of charter buses loading up to carry them all, well, elsewhere (wherever they cart tourist en mass off to... hotels, holiday villages, Aqualand??).

Meanwhile T has a long day ahead of him. First he flies to Athens (1 hour) then from there (after a minor 3 hour wait) direct to New York (11 hours!) From New York, (after a 2 hour wait), he connects to his last flight of the day to Chicago (another 3 hours flying time) he arrives at 7 pm local time, warmly greeted by strong son to tackle suitcase and cart him off to apartment with guest room. So after 20 hours of traveling time he will be able to finally rest his weary bones

HA! I have no doubt that it will easily be another 3 or 4 hours as collecting luggage from and then getting out of O'Hare Airport is no quick trick! Then too there will be the general greeting of family and probably meal of some sort. Plus he will have caught his second or third wind and hold together for a while anyway.

On the one hand I envy him seeing everyone, on the other hand I really feel for him and his weary bones! As a former world traveling mega star, T (in his previous pre- "retired" life) has learned how to conserve his energy. He is one of the few people who, shortly after he straps himself into the seat, can automatically fall asleep, making him the least fun person to sit next to if you happen to be a chatty individual.

We once counted the number of countries he worked in and traveled to and came up with 60. He's flown pretty much every airline (and many that no longer exist) and is very familiar with the artificial existence of life on board an airplane for long haul flights. He's had many adventures; some interesting, some baffling, a few scary, and a couple downright dangerous. But that is all thankfully in the past. Now he's just going for family sake. Now he only travels because he wants to travel, not because he has to travel.

Still, travel isn't as much fun as it used to be. Now it's all about the destination I suppose But in another time, "travel" used to be as much about the journey as the destination.


~~~