30 years of adventure and teamwork

Our wedding, 9/27/85

Peter and I are celebrating our 30th wedding anniversary. The actual date is September 27, but our observance will extend through our annual mid-October meander into the countryside to enjoy fall color.

I was 42 and not looking to get married when I met Peter at a business meeting. I thought I was happy and fulfilled. But he showed me what it could be like to be loved, and we were married less than six months after we met.

We've grown and changed a lot since then. We learned we could be a great team; our individual talents and perspectives complement one another and we can accomplish a lot when we decide to work for something we believe in. He's helped me take more risks and speak up; I've helped him be a little less the aggressive New-Yorker-in-a-china-shop. He is, by the way, a much more nurturing person than I know how to be.

When we were first discussing marriage, Peter said the secret of our happiness would be the small quiet moments--if we took time to appreciate them. At our ages, he said, we were unlikely to set off on new adventures. He was right about the moments, but wrong about adventure. We've undertaken three life-changing projects together. 

Cafesjian's Carousel

Three years into our marriage, we led a very public effort to rescue a beautiful historic carousel. Through a nonprofit organization we founded for this purpose, we steered the carousel through several threats to its existence, moved it twice, did a museum-quality restoration on its 68 horses, and now operate it as Cafesjian's Carousel in Saint Paul's Como Park. We secured millions of dollars in support, recruited more than 1,000 volunteers, and proved that you can fight City Hall--and win. (We tell the whole improbable story in a book we published last summer.)

This year we have begun working to replace ourselves with new leaders, a transition that is not easy. The carousel has been a full-time preoccupation for 27 of our 30 years together, and it forged our relationship. Together, the team of "Peter-and-Nancy" has often been far bolder, more entrepreneurial, and more wildly successful than either of us could have been--or even imagined--alone. It's hard to let go of that role. On the other hand, we feel a responsibility to pass along what we know to those who will carry the work forward. Besides, we are tired and it's time to move on.

Meanwhile we've been season ticket holders for Saint Paul Saints minor-league baseball since 1993, and for years we really threw ourselves into it. We attended nearly every home game, tailgating before each game and forming good friendships with players, coaches, staff, players' families, vendors, and other fans. Saints games became our social life until changes broke up the community we had enjoyed. This summer, the team moved to a new downtown stadium that is difficult to access for those of us with bad knees. Instead of attending 45 or 50 games, we made about 15 this year, and we're already thinking it will be fewer next year. Gradually and sadly we are giving up a beloved activity that was another big part of our shared identity.

Legos--a favorite family activity

Our most fulfilling role, of course, is helping care for our two much-loved grandchildren. Peter was a devoted father to his daughter Abby, and he knew he wanted to provide regular daycare for her children while she and Eric worked (both are teachers.) The moment Augie was born, I wanted to be part of his life as well. Gradually I cut back my working hours and when I was able to retire we became Peter-and-Nancy the fulltime grandparent team. These days Augie and ViMae are in grades 2 and 3; we have them for about 90 minutes before dropping them at school each day, we pick them up some days, and we enjoy frequent play dates. They will need less from us as they grow up, but this is a role from which we never want to retire.

As we move forward, Peter and I need to find new ways to spend time together, to foster our relationship and to replace activities and identities that shaped our first 30 years together. For starters, we are planning a back porch where we can sit together on long Minnesota evenings and admire the garden, listen to music, maybe even listen to a baseball game. Our grandchildren and their parents are welcome to join us any time.

I am content. I have enjoyed being with this man who once promised to "throw a monkey wrench into your well ordered life." He certainly did, and the results were surprising, challenging, sometimes perplexing, often amazing. Now, at the 30-year mark, we are negotiating some transitions. I am pretty sure that we are up to the challenge, and that the outcome will be worth the work.

I love you, Peter Boehm. I love being loved by you, and I love the life we have created together. I hope we have lots more wonderful moments together, and maybe even some rewarding but slightly less taxing adventures!  


P.S., The story of how we met begins here.   

P.P.S., This is posted to

Casting spells and eating candy

At Halloween we've taken to leaving the lights off and not buying candy. We do, however, enjoy the holiday through the grandkids.

The girl who loves pink and princesses and rainbows and unicorns went totally in the other direction, dressing as the evil Bellatrix Lestrange from Harry Potter stories. Abby converted Vi's black flower-girl dress into a fabulous take on the movie costume worn by Helena Bonham Carter. Eric made an appropriately crooked wand, and Vi added just the right sense of drama, casting spells at every opportunity. (She went as the red dragon Smaug for two years, so this was not too surprising.)

In the movies, Bellatrix has on her arm a "dark mark" that identifies her as a follower of He Who Shall Not Be Named. We knew Vi's arms would need to be covered for warmth, so I drew the dark mark in silver glitter glue on the black trick-or-treat bag I made for her. Just before I finished it, Vi said she hoped the skull wouldn't frighten little children, and she wondered about changing the skull to a heart. I told her I thought the snake was the scariest part, and we decided to stick with the original. But I gotta love her combination of scary wizardry and real-life concern.

Augie planned his Ninja outfit months ago, and he was eager to assemble it so we helped. It begins with black sweat pants and hoodie he can wear any day, plus a balaklava (winter head covering) that he could close down so only his eyes showed. At a second-hand shop we found soft black "Ninja shoes" ideal for moving stealthily. Eric made him a long sword and Grandma Anita made a scabbard. Augie's new best friend dressed as Pokemon--a bright contrast to the all-in-black Augie and Vi.

When the kids finished trick-or-treating, they handed out candy at their house, literally jumping with delight. And since they turn over most of their collected candy to the Switch Witch, who in turn gives them a toy, they were more than willing to share a handful of Butterfingers and Reese's Peanut Butter Cups with Grandma.

I used to buy bags of "fun-size" candy and we'd eat a lot of it before the big night even arrived. Peter stopped eating candy many months ago, and I've mostly cut back to one dark-chocolate truffle a day. But I did splurge just before Halloween with a "trick-or-treat" malt from Snuffy's, a St. Paul 50s-style hamburger and ice cream shop. This malt had Snickers, Butterfingers, and Reese's Pieces mixed in! I ate about half, then took the rest home, stashed it in the freezer. and made it last two more days. So yes, I still celebrate Halloween. If only I could cast a spell and make sugar a nutritious thing.

Ain't gonna study war no more...

Periodically the children ask me to type up and print out a plan they've been thinking about. The best example is Augie's business plan for a smoothie shop, which has evolved over the past year or two into a restaurant layout, full menu, and staffing assignments for the entire family.

ViMae creates in a more organic way, but she wanted a business plan like her brother's so we came up with a plan for a dress and gift shop. (How ever will I work in Augie's kitchen and make the dresses for Vi's shop? But that's a question for another day.)

So yesterday they wanted a new set of plans. Augie dictated this, including the properly used parentheses:

Augie's War Plans 
1. Hide
2. Wait
3. Spot enemy
4. Attack and defend
5. Clean up battle area
6. Do it over again (at next battle)

It seems a reasonable plan, especially if one is waging war to defend home turf and has been told to always pick up one's swords, shields, Lego siege vehicles, drumsticks, blankets, and other armaments.

Of course ViMae had to have a plan, too. And here it is, in pink as she directed:

Vi's War Plans
1. Retreat
2. Bring refreshments in case warriors get hurt

I couldn't stop myself. I love peacemakers, but I also wanted to help her understand the fairly obvious flaw in her war plan. (After all, I reasoned, a woman needs to fight for what she believes in.)

"How can you win if you don't fight the battle?" I ventured. She looked troubled.

"Do you want to add something about fighting?" "Yes," she said, but without conviction.

"Where should it go, first, second, or third?" "Third," she said decisively.

"What should it say?" She had no words.

I decided to offer a stark and silly alternative.

"Do you want to say 'Go to battle' or 'Have a party'?"

Instantly she brightened. "Have a party!" she said. So we added it:
3. Have a party.

Peter suggested that I invite her to make a Peacemaking Plan. We can talk about declaring a truce in contrast to fighting, retreating, or surrendering. We can talk about negotiation and compromise (something we talk about in an everyday-living context) or wherever the idea takes her.

I love this idea, talking about alternatives to war and about settling issues peacefully. I wish I'd thought of it myself. And I can't wait to hear what she has to say. She is clearly more of a peacemaker than a warrior at heart, and that's a wonderful thing.

Fishing buddies

Many men go fishing all of their lives without knowing that it is not fish they are after. - Henry David Thoreau 

 
At age four, our grandson Augie sets his goals high. Before joining us at the lake, he announced that he wanted to catch a fish and eat it. He and ViMae know that butchers turn animals into meat, and Pa had told them that Grandma was the best fish-butcher he knew. So they decided that Grandma would clean the fish and Pa would cook it. 

Belted kingfisher at Star Lake

To manage expectations, we talked about the notion that fishing is all about trying; you never know whether you'll catch anything good. We explained that while fishing you sometimes get to see animals and birds along the shore; that's how we had seen loons, herons, and just this week a belted kingfisher. (We wouldn't have known or cared about the kingfisher if it hadn't been for Augie and his Minnesota bird book.)

Right after lunch on the day they arrived, the four of us donned sunscreen and life jackets and climbed into the little fishing boat. (Mom, who doesn't enjoy fishing anyway, took a much-needed nap.) We introduced them to their fishing rods and spent a little time getting them to settle in. If you have fished with a kid, you know the "don'ts": don't wave the rod around, don't let out so much line, don't just set it down. We added as many "do's" as we could: hold it steady, move it slowly, let us know if you feel a little tug. They were excited, and they tried hard to cooperate, except for that part about letting out too much line thing. The release button is just too inviting and it was a great way to tease Pa. 

Crappie

Star Lake is full of sunfish and crappies, most of them small but ambitious enough to nibble at whatever you dangle in front of them. Sure enough, within 10 minutes each child had caught a fish. Vi's was too small to keep and she didn't mind throwing it back; she was happy just to have caught one. Augie's was bigger; he was beaming as we offered to put it on the stringer. A shadow crossed his face, so I quickly added, "You can let it go if you want," and that's what he chose to do. My only regret: we neglected to bring the camera along to get pictures of their first fish.

Sunfish

The next day Augie and I went out, and this time he handled the rod like an experienced fisherman. We each caught a fish quickly; he reeled in his own and wanted to take out the tiny hook himself but it was caught a little awkwardly so I did it. Again we let the fish go, and with that he was ready to go back to the cabin.

"Do you want to go for a little ride to see whether we find any birds?" "No, I want to go to the cabin. Go fast."

We were using a 5-hp trolling motor. Fast doesn't really exist. But he'd seen bigger boats churn up the water with their wakes. "Turn on the waves and the bubbles," he said. I assured them that I had, and he was happy.

Small fish, but delicious

Peter and I had caught enough fish ahead of time so the kids could have a meal of fish even if they didn't catch any. They were perfectly happy to gobble up crappies and sunfish just like the ones they had caught and released. Even their mom tried some, and didn't mind the taste as long as there was tartar sauce.

At the end of our vacation, we asked the kids to name their favorite thing. ViMae loved swimming. Augie's answer: "Trying to catch a big fish." I have a feeling this boy is going to be a fisherman. (Not giving up on his sister, either. She has more patience for sitting still.)

But do they wear pantyhose?

Things I learned this week:

(1) Apparently if you're a three-year-old boy (a state that can last much longer than a single year, I'm told) the word "pantyhose" is hysterically funny. It sets off paroxysms of laughter (you remember that word from a vocab list, right?). And about the time you are all done laughing, if Grandma says it again, you'll laugh again. And again.

(2) It's easy to tell boys from girls. Woodpeckers, both male and female, have been visiting our bird feeders. The bird book explained that males have red spots on the backs of their heads, and females don't. Meanwhile, Mommy and Daddy have talked with Augie and Vi about male and female body parts; they know that boys have penises and girls have vaginas. Today at Wild Rumpus Daycare we had this conversation:

Pa: Is Augie a boy?

Augie: Yes.

Pa: Who else is a boy?

Augie: My friend Dad, and Pa.

Pa: Is ViMae a boy?

Augie (laughing): No, she's a girl.

Pa: Are Mommy and Grandma boys?

Augie (laughing again): No, they're girls.

Pa: How can you tell?

Augie: Because they don't have red spots on the back of their heads.

Peapots and daffdobills

I love the way kids develop language skills. We celebrate their first words, and then their growing vocabularies, and then the ways they combine those words. Vi is at the one- and two-word stage, adding new ones very rapidly (porcupine and basketball are impressive recent additions). She has already begun to revise her pronunciation. She used to pronounce "Grandma" as "Mama." (No confusion, because her mother is "Mommy," always.) But now she's saying "Ahma." She's figured out that "m' was the wrong sound at the beginning of the word Grandma. She swallows the "g" which is why it comes out "Ahma" (rhymes with mama). But clearly she recognized the difference and is correcting herself.

A favorite book now is "Peapot." She says it over and over while fetching the book and getting settled to read it. "Peapot," of course, is really "Teapot," as in "I'm a Little...." Some day soon she'll start calling it that. And I'll be a little sad....

Just as I was last spring when Augie dropped the fabulously adorable "daff-do-bills" because he learned to say "daffodils." Sigh. They grow up so fast.

Speaking of Augie, he can talk up a storm when he's in the mood. And while there is a difference in their skill levels because of their age difference, I'm thinking there is a difference in style that will persist even when age is no longer a factor. Example: Ask them, "Would you like some oatmeal." Augie will say, "Oh, YES I do." Vi says, "Yup."

I'm writing minutes for the carousel board...

...but first, a little distraction. In August we visited barns full of carousel figures, band organs, and real horses. Beautiful day! Beautiful girl!

Augie's baseball card

Weeks ago, Peter decided to make Augie a baseball card to match the Saints set, and to have it ready the day the Saints set came out. We got a copy of the art (thanks, Jim) and spent a little over a week masking photos (me) and creating the card (Peter). We obsessed, because "anything worth doing is worth overdoing."

On the front is a photo Eric took on his cellphone one day when our friend took them into the dugout so Augie could try on catcher's gear (thanks, Lamarr).On the back, Augie is wearing the catcher's mask that Pa made for him. It's starting to show the wear and tear of a well-loved piece of gear.

The day the cards were given out, we got extra packs (thanks, Derek) and took two to the kids' house, with Augie's card slipped in. Peter tossed one pack to Eric, whose face lit up when he saw Augie's card. Meanwhile, Peter showed cards to Augie, who would name players he knew and then drop the card on the floor and look at the next one. "Alex... Kyle... Augie... Tony...." No big deal. Doesn't every kid have a card? Isn't Augie on the team? In fact, doesn't he own the place?

I'm also posting the photo I took in summer '08, which Pa used on Augie's "rookie card." It may be my all-time favorite photo. Of anyone. Ever. So far.

Let the wild rumpus start.

Actually, it started at 7:20 this morning, when "Grandpa Daycare" opened for a third season. We should find a new name for it, since I'm going to be a full-fledged partner four days a week beginning 9/1. (Most days won't start until about 9:15, which is a LOT better than 7:20!) We'd spent the weekend shopping for new toy storage/bookcase units, a kids' table and chairs, baseball gloves for Vi and me, etc. We didn't add new toys, since we knew Augie and Vi would be most interested in checking out all the familiar ones...it's what they do when they haven't been here for a week or two. They were great. We had good breakfasts (steel-cut oatmeal, muffins, fruit, ham) and had a great time at the park just down the street. We played nicely, read books, watered the garden (sort of), had lunch...everything but nap. Augie wanted to play, and Vi wanted her mommy and would NOT fall asleep. We've switched their arrangements since last year--she's in the den and he's in my office--and it may take a while to adjust.

Favorite moments: Augie singing "Five Little Monkeys Jumping on a Bed," while strumming the guitar, Vi showing great skill at nesting and even stacking cups, and Augie helping us pick up and put away books and toys before they left, with no complaints. Oh, and at the park, when Pa recited "Where the Wild Things Are" for our kids and another family that happened to be there, Augie reciting right along with him.

It's exhausting, but so much fun. I'm so glad that while Mommy and Daddy are off teaching, they let Pa and Grandma care for their children. Thanks, guys.

Baseball kids

Yesterday was the final Sunday afternoon Saints game.



After naps, Augie showed up in his catcher's mask (homemade by "Pa"), took balls out to the umpire twice, and decided he liked the view from accessible seating instead of our usual spot just behind the umpire.

Kids get to run the bases after Sunday games. Augie (29 mos) went around twice, sliding into home each time. Vi (14 mos) walked the circuit for the first time, holding Daddy's hand.

Peter and I love Saints baseball; even more now that we are three generations attending games together.

(Note: The two upper pix are now larger files than I originally posted.)