Always give ’em’ options

Posted on by kwundrow

When we set about teaching our daughters independence while at the same time keeping our relative sanity, we decided to give them options.  Now please understand, we were at least smart about it.  We would creatively come up with three options knowing full well that we couldn’t lose.  No matter which they picked, we could easily live with the choice.  Now all these years later we can see that it worked.  My daughter Bailey and her husband John, are practicing the same technique with our grandson Jackson.  Here in lies the story.

The other day, while visiting their house, John and I were attempting to watch the Packer game.  I say attempting because Jackson had decided to not watch the game and instead to get us involved in his own game.

Scene one, Jackson enters the room and asks in his 2 1/2 year old style, “can Jackson play tablet?”  After an explanation by his dad that he had already had plenty of tablet time, Jackson comes back with “then Jackson reads daddy’s favorite book?”  Strike two as John explains that he is trying to watch the game and he will read the book later.  Wait for it, Jackson is ready to prove the lesson and win the game.  Without so much as a deep sigh, Jackson reaches over dad’s lap and as he grabs it, says “then Jackson gets the nuk”.  Point, set, match, you’ve all been had by your own game.  And he’s not even 3.

As I explained to John that we had just been schooled, it became clear to me that Jackson is one sharp little guy.  Of course I am his Opa  and couldn’t possibly think anything less.  But then he did figure out the game; give them three choices, all of which are wins and you can’t lose.

So a little advice for those who will be the influences in their grandchild’s life, remind them of this wisdom and urge them to always give themselves options.  Options that can’t lose and that will only lead to success.

It’s all about one’s options.  Nice play Jackson.

 

So who will you be for Halloween?

Posted on by kwundrow

Halloween, that one day holiday where we dress up and celebrate All Saint’s Eve.  The history of the holiday is a whole story of its own but that’s not what I am focused on this morning.  You see I just returned from our Sunday morning church service and having dressed up as everyone was asked to do, this revelation found its way home with me.

Our minister had posed this question “If you could dress up as someone, who would it be?”  He had chosen Batman and had explained why that had significance in the moment and for him personally.  You know, super hero, good guy.  His point was that we all are someone else behind the mask we wear.

There I was sitting in the pew, dressed as the picture above shows.  It dawned on me, that if I looked in the mirror, it would be my father’s reflection that I saw.  On further contemplation, I also dawned on me that it was a more subliminal choice of costume than I had realized.

My father was by many an account, a relatively quiet person.  He went about his business and quietly made his way in the world.  He raised six children, ran a dairy farm and held multiple odd jobs in government and labor.  Even though we probably had far less money than many we knew, we never felt poor or wanting.  All the while, my dad was a man of service.  Service in the positions he held, service to his farm community and service to his church.  The quiet man left a huge footprint.

It was fitting that I had without thinking about it donned the clothes he would have worn and in that moment of contemplation, I had come to realize more than ever before, how much of an impression he had on my life.  So many things that we do in life, so many mannerisms and characteristics can be traced back to someone who left their imprint on our life.  I believe that with that realization comes a better understanding of who we are and maybe even who we are meant to become.  We reveal the someone behind the mask.

My question for you this Halloween is who would you dress up as?  No matter who it is, take a little time to consider the significance of your choice.  Then, remove the mask and try to become that person. My hope for you is that your choice will be some super hero with super powers and that you will strive to use those powers to become a super you.

Happy Halloween and thanks for reading.

Hey, I’m a Guy

Posted on by kwundrow

Let’s start out with reminding you I am a male.  I think like a male and that is my excuse for what follows.  But stay with me because I will hopefully make my point and erase what ever fears have crept into your mind about where this might be going.

Women and men just don’t think alike.  Women are rational.  There is never just one consequence of an action but rather an entire landslide of events eventually culminating in the inevitable conclusion.  Meanwhile, men see things more clearly.  At least that is the idea that we delude ourselves with and use to justify our snap decisions.  We think inside the box while women think outside of the box.  Either that or they are thinking in a much larger box with several floors and a multitude of rooms.

This leads me to the discussion I recently had with my overly rational wife that spurred this blog.  I felt that if I could write this down, I might actually be able to offer some advice to any male or female that would read this and maybe apply it to their collective partnerships.  It seems that when ever I come upon some tidbit of information, which I in turn wish to share with my wife, I come up short on details every time.  As an example, and I am betting every testosterone driven male can identify with, a friend’s wife has their baby.  Be honest here, have you ever been able to provide even half the information necessary to answer the barrage of questions your partner is about to ask.  I generally provide the following information, ‘They had their baby yesterday”.  What did I miss, apparently everything that mattered.  What time, really?, what was the weight, guessing about a bowling bowl here, what was the length, seriously, under three feet best guess.  Of course I skipped sex and name because here I must admit, I should have been on at least that much of my game.

On this particular occasion, a friend had been in the hospital for a surgery that had been called off midway through.  As my wife was waiting for news of how the recovery was going, I received a text from a second friend.  He stated simply that our friend had indicated he would now actually be eating food at the wedding.  Any guy thinking in the box would take this to mean his humor was intact and he was up for eating.  Enough said.  When I relayed this text as a quote to my wife, the inquisition began.  When did he say that?  Hmm, text says 2:45.  What had our friend asked that elicited this response?  What does this cryptic message really mean?  What else did he say?  A this point I have two choices.  One, start to make up stuff and hope she can’t fact check me, or two, confess to my complete and total ignorance.  I chose option two, sort of.

I explained to my wife, and here in lies the nugget of genius, men receive information in short bursts.  It is all we can handle on either end, and more importantly, when you ask us for the information, we don’t hold anything back.  If we tell you they had the baby, that’s it, they had the baby.  Please don’t believe that you can pry any additional information out of us.  Simple, concise, reasonably accurate and woefully short on detail.  If we were asked to recap a fight it would go something like he said something stupid and then the guy smacked him.  They don’t say “That’s it folks. The fights over” for nothing.  That’s just the sum total of what that poor guy is got to offer.  Fights over, moving on.

So now you have it.  Women, lower your expectations in this area.  What we got is all we got.  You are just going to get frustrated if you expect more.  Men, I guess we can always keep trying.  In the last baby birth debacle, I got almost everything but the sex.  My response to the question “sex?”, “there must have been, roughly nine months ago I’m guessing”.

Thanks for reading…but that’s it.

Family Matters

Posted on by kwundrow

I just returned from our first full family reunion.  Since our parents passing several years ago, we had talked about getting us all back together.  But, like so many things in life it kept moving away from us.  That is until we set our foot, feet down and made plans.  Suddenly it was off the talking list and and we were all busy planning our get together in Lake Tahoe.  Thanks to the tenacity of our displaced California now New York niece, the details began to come together and our reunion became a reality.  Thirty-eight members of our family came together for four beautiful days in the mountains of California.  Among the thirty-eight were eleven grandchildren, some who had never met each other, yet by the end of our four day stay, had become very much acquainted and even fast friends.  The children’s ages ranged on up to 13 with the youngest in attendance barely 3 months old.  For several, the pictures will have to serve as their memories.

Now bringing this many people together and dropping them all in close vicinity to each other sounds risky, but in credit to the closeness of the five families, there were no wars, no battles.  Instead, we connected and reconnected in a way that would have made our parents proud.  Each day we shared a meal at one of the four condos, created, cooked and served up by the host family of that day.  The stories flowed freely and the laughter lasted long into the evenings.  In so many ways, we had not missed a beat.

This is what family is.  This is what family does.  I am so proud to be a member of this family and in awe as I look up at the family tree and the many branches it now bears and the new branches that continue to sprout.  Within the next year there will be at least two more added to the tree.  My hope is that we will all come together again and these new members will be introduced to their relatives.

And so I challenge us to meet again a year from now and tell the stories again, celebrate our lives and our accomplishments, revel in our heritage and remind each other that family matters.  It is said that you can choose your friends but not your family.  I for one am glad that this family chose me. I can say that I am proud to be a Wundrow.  Thank you mom and dad for the legacy of the family you founded.  I hope….no I know that you are proud of us.

 

Angels Among Us

Posted on by kwundrow

It had started out like any other trip.  The plethora of planning items to check off, airfare, hotel, rental car and the never ending list of things to pack.  We were ready for our trip to the Seattle area.  And for the most part, things went as planned.  We arrived safe and sound, picked up our rental car and found our way successfully to the hotel suite.  One minor detail, and at the time it seemed like such a good thing.  The rental agency had offered us a free upgrade from the midsize car we had paid for to a brand spanking new full size.  Who wouldn’t take that deal and we did.  But more later on that.

We spent the first two days and evening exploring the downtown area of Seattle and took in some nice west coast seafood.  Day three found us on the road to Astoria, Oregon, a beautiful old fur trading center at the mouth of the Columbia River where it meets the Pacific Ocean.  On the way there is where my story begins.  Traveling down the interstate we suddenly hear a loud crack as a stone seemingly thrown at us out of the sky cracks the windshield of our brand new car.  Now had I taken the insurance coverage offered, that would be the rental agency’s issue, but then you see I didn’t take that offer.  When quizzed by my loving wife, I explained that the windshield, thanks to our $500 comprehensive deductible, now belonged to us.  “But fear not, said I, I am sure that lightening does not strike twice.”

We spent a really nice evening in a quaint hotel on the riverbank of the Columbia.  After a nice dinner and exploratory hike around town and up to the “heights”, we had almost put the windshield issue in our rear mirror.  Oh yes there was the suggested scrimping on our choice of restaurants due to the looming $500 bill, but all in all, the issue was fading.  Then came the morning of the next day and the realization that lightening does strike twice.  Sometime in the wee hours someone had pulled out of the stall behind us and managed with the precision of a demolition derby driver to scrape off most of the paint and some of the plastic of our rear bumper.  Of course they would be too ashamed to just drive off you think.  Well apparently the thought never crossed their mind.  My wife, god love her, shrugs and says, “Well at least we already used up our deductible, so it can’t cost us anymore.”  This is when I get to explain the difference in an insurance policy between comprehensive coverage and collision.  After a call to our insurance agent to verify what I thought was obvious and my wife thought was collusion, not to be confused with collision, which my agent explained was a $1000 deductible, we now owned the bumper of this car as well.  With our luck, we just might buy the car one piece at a time before we had to turn it back in.  The better part of this day would be spent getting my family to back away from the emotional cliff we were now poised on the edge of.  But thanks to resilience, humility on my part and a beautiful Oregon Coast beach, we were soldiering on.

We have by this time reached the city of Port Angeles.  Port Angeles is the exit point for the ferry to Victoria Island in Vancouver, Canada.  I wish to insert here several key facts.  You need a passport to get into Canada, Victoria is an island, coffee can cost a lot more than you think and the ferry is not cheap and even more expensive when one takes their car.  These facts will play a key role in a series of decision I will soon make.

We have spent a day and a night in Port Angeles in a motel booked weeks in advance.  On the morning of the second day, we are to drive our car onto the ferry and head to Victoria Island.  After doing a little math on the cost of the ferry, with car, and parking for same car on the island let alone getting a hotel room on the island, it has become obvious that coupled with the multiple car parts we will be paying for soon, that a more fiscally responsible plan might be the order of the day.  And thus the decision that will set me on my course to hell has begun.  I have decided, against the better judgement of my wife, to stay one more night in Port Angeles and leave the car there for the day.  Simple, go speak with the hotel manager to book our room for one more night.  Not so simple he explains.  There are no rooms available and we cannot leave our car in the lot.  But then what seems like our first good fortune.  There is a room available at a motel right next to the ferry and not only is it less than the cost of taking the car over to the island, we can leave our car in the parking lot all day, no cost.  And the die is cast, or as the French say, and I like the feel of this, “the carrots are cooked.”  We park our car and merrily board the ferry for the next leg of our vacation.  After a nice day touring the island and its quaint history, we are disembarking from the ferry and walking up to our motel.  As my wife actually mentions that this turned out to be a good decision, I am struck by the emptiness of my pocket.  Not just any pocket, but the pocket where there should be a heavy set of keys.  After a mad dash back down the hill to the ferry and a desperate request to search the boat.  Remember the passport, I left it with my wife on her way up the hill to our motel, you know, the one with our brand new car in its lot with all of our luggage securely locked in its trunk.  It turns out that the ferry is actually considered Canadian soil.  No passport, no getting back on the ferry.  After relaying my tale of woe they agree to have a crewmate search the boat for me, did I mention that this was the last ferry trip of the day to or from the island?  No keys!  Did I really think my luck would change?  I am thinking now that when we stopped into buy a cup of coffee at that inviting java bar on the island, my keys were left on the counter.  This may turn out to be a very expensive cup of coffee.

I am back up the hill now and explaining to the hotel night manager that our vacation has gone off the rails, our luggage is locked in the car and I have no keys.  Time to give you another fact.  Port Angeles interpreted means “City of Angels”.  Enter angel number one.  The hotel manager gets AAA on the move and offers us a free upgrade for a room, one my family can at least enjoy while I suffer quietly in the parking lot waiting for AAA.  By the way, misery DOES love company.  But the manager doesn’t stop here.  He next offers us his car to drive downtown to get something to eat and even offers us money to buy some clothes for the night.   Meanwhile, AAA has informed me of my next problem.  Any other car and they would come out, pick the lock and we would be on our way.  Any other car, but not the brand new car we rented and equipped with an electronic smart key.  Never fear, the driver would come out and tow it to the nearest Chevy garage, where I could go work the problem with them tomorrow.

Did I mention that when I parked the car early that morning the lot was empty and the last thing I was concerned about at that time was needing to have my car towed?  The lot is now full, and my car is neatly tucked in between three rows of tightly parked cars.  Enter the tow truck driver.  As I point out the location of my car, he groans and says “This is going to cost someone a lot of money….” but I stop him mid-sentence and painfully fill him in on our vacation story to this point.  The windshield, the bumper and now the lost keys.  He sucks in his breath and finishes his sentence “but not you.”  Angel number two has arrived.  He is going to call a friend with another truck and through a miracle, sounds better than what actually took place, they will drag this car out of there.  Once the extraction begins, he reminds me not to watch and when I ask if this is hard on the car, he reminds me in a calm and soothing voice “just remember, it’s not your car.”  After what seems like an eternity, I watch as my car, dangling from the hook of a tow truck, heads away on its journey to the garage.

Early, very early the next day, the night manager comes to my rescue again.  He has returned to the motel to give me a ride to the garage to retrieve my car.  This guy is amazing in his determination to rescue us.  Arriving at the garage, I am given more bad news.  They do not have the key codes to cut the key as the car is so new.  But they are not giving up either.  They are Port Angelinos and they are duty bent to save me.  After two failed attempts by local locksmiths, we have no luck with an ignition key but they have cracked the trunk and I now have luggage.  Enter angel number three and four.  The service manager knows a guy in town with a rental car business on the side.  It turns out he has an arrangement with our rental agency and that he is going to give us, yes give us, a car to continue on our way.  Ten minutes later he rolls in, throws our luggage in his car and beckons me to get in.  I tell him I need to settle with the service manager, who tells me “no cost, I didn’t fix anything.  Just enjoy the rest of your vacation.”  Meanwhile, as I enter the agent’s car, I ask “what about that car and the damage?”  His reply reminds me for the fourth time, “not your car, not your problem.”  He explains that he will deal with the rental agency and I should no longer think about it.  He then drives over to our motel, picks up the rest of the family and then at his place of business, provides us with a car and a full tank of gas.  As we drive out of town, we pass the garage and the “cursed car” as my family now refers to it.  Port Angeles has lived up to its name.  Facing a ruined vacation, they have not only come to our rescue, they have bolstered our spirits and reminded us of the power of generosity.

Upon returning to Seattle to turn in a car that certainly does not resemble the car we rented, we are actually greeted with an apology for all that has happened to us on our trip, a personal cab ride to our motel and a “no charge” bill of receipt.  To not put in a shameless plug for the agency would not be in the spirit of this story.  The company, I will now always attempt to get my rental from, is Enterprise.

I will end this story with this antidote.  There are angels among us and to recognize them is to acknowledge that we need to be no less when our opportunity arises.  Don’t miss your opportunity.  It just might be your only chance to be someone’s angel.