Walks with Grandpa

By Kathrine and kids

Ryan was four and Emma was two when they first started walking with Grandpa. I thought they were just going on small walks up the street, but after hearing Ryan's stories about the wilderness and the things he saw, they must have really explored the open space in White Gate. Grandpa could never go on long walks before he retired, because he had so many responsibilities and his little beeper would always call him back if he ever tried to get away. We were all excited to spend time with him after he retired. Emma would put on her white sandals and grab Grandpa's finger and be off.

When Grandpa visited us here in Provo, he would be out walking around town most of the day. In the summer he wore that Sherlock Holmes hat or a baseball cap, and in the rain it was his fleece with an umbrella. In the winter, you could always spot him in his Costco coats and beanie. The kids loved to go with him--he somehow always ended up at the dollar movies or the creamery.

Speaking of the Creamery, this is Emma's favorite: We walked to the Creamery with Grandpa, and we brought that yappy dog with us (Betty Bop). We didn't know what to do with it--we couldn't take it in with us, and we couldn't tie her up since she barks so much. Grandpa put her in the garbage can right outside the door. We had a great time--she was actually quiet--and when we were all done, he just took off the top and tipped it over so she could climb out. (Too bad every house doesn't have large garbage cans to keep yappy dogs in!)

The kids didn't know their grandpa had Alzheimers until he had a hard time talking. They didn't understand what that meant (Emma thought it had something to do with All Stars, but instead it was All Timers), until they realized they had to tell Grandpa it was OK to cross the street. Then, Grandpa was no longer taking them on walks--instead they were taking Grandpa on walks. That's OK though, because they still ended up at the Creamery.

One day, Grandpa seemed particularly anxious, so Ryan went out with him. They were gone probably an hour or two, and when they got back, Dennis was still anxious and wanted to keep going. That is what having multiple kids is all about--Jeshua took him out for another hour. Now it was Emma's turn, but she didn't want to go on a walk. This was during her "Wicked Time" when she sang all the songs from the play. She somehow talked Grandpa into sitting down to listen to her sing. Tears started to stream down Grandpa's face, and he told her to sing more. She was glad for the invitation (everyone else told her to be quiet). She sang to him till he fell asleep.

We have been eating oranges, raspberry sherbet, bread with jam, pre-made hamburgers, and frozen corn for two days straight--it makes us feel like he is here. And when we are on long walks, we will always wonder if maybe he is here.

How to treat a dad-the Gustafson way!

Recently Craig's dad was left alone at home for a weekend. I wasn't sure if he'd ever been introduced to the Gustafson way of being treated...

I know other people love their dad. They celebrate him on father's day. They let their moms tell their dads what's really going on in their lives.

But Gustafsons...

We know how to treat a dad. So we submitted Craig's dad to the same treatment:

It begins by finding a babysitter- preferably one for free because Dad's not going to pay for that unless he's visiting and has an excess amount of cash on him.

Then you find a movie that he'd love (action or comedy).

Then you pick him up and have a grand old time talking about interesting subjects. You go see the movie and let dad pay, of course.

Then you pick a restaurant and go eat. Dad pays, of course.

And you always top the evening off with some great Baskin-Robbins or frozen yogurt, with dad paying of course.

But the whole time you pay utmost attention to Dad. What does he like to talk about? Helping him order something he'd like off the menu--chicken and salmon are always good choices with no fattening sauces! Yuck! (Craig once let mayonnaise be put on my dad's sandwich--several "shits!" later and us wiping it off, Craig learned the hard way the knowledge we were born with).

"I read this in the paper dad, I thought you'd find that interesting."

or

"Tell me this church history tale dad...wow, fascinating!"

Some translating would be involved-- my best correct guess was what you could find at Costco--the answer was Jelly Bellys. You had to have in-depth knowledge of my dad to play. Sorry non-blood relations, you're simply too late in the game to play this game.

Before you knew it, the ice cream was gone and you were on your way home. You got an evening of free entertainment, food, and chatter, and dad was as happy as could be!

Good times had for all.

Treating a dad like a king is the Gustafson way.

I'm definitely passing the tradition on to my kids.

Dads deserve it.

Charity Never Faileth

We were in Austria looking for batteries. Not just any batteries--Duracell batteries. We went into one store that was a few steps down in the cellar. The shopkeeper showed dad batteries and dad said, "No! Do you have Duracell?" The guy got upset because Dad wouldn't buy those batteries and swore at us as we left. I said, "Gosh, what a jerk!"

Dad responded, "Well, he's in this bad little shop that's not doing much business."

Oh, okay. That's what charity is--understanding the other guy's perspective. Dad was good at that and not reviling back.

Dad's other job.

He operated at John Muir. He saw patients at Diablo Orthopedics. And he practiced Sports Medicine at every one of our athletic events when a player went down.

Dad would hustle on over, "Does it hurt A or B? 1 or 2?" And then pat the leg and say, "It looks okay. It'll be better in a few days."

Seriously, how cool was our dad?!

"To bed, to bed" said Sleepy Head...

"Let's wait awhile," said Slow.

"Put on the pot," said Hungry Boy.

"Let's eat before we go."

.................................................

• reading scriptures, always 5 versus at a time (You didn't have the book in front of you, so I could never understand how you magically knew the words we'd stumble on.)
• skipping the "begat"s, "Isaiah," and some wars (What a nice dad!)
• tickle spider
• wrapped like a burrito
• saying prayers underneath you and trying to escape afterward
• losing your pen or your glasses from the front pocket of your shirt after tucking us in
• Raspberries
• kisses from your rough, unshaven face
• Why does Carl get to stay up later?
• waking me up to go to the bathroom so I wouldn't wet the bed

When you have nothing else...

Dad came out to visit us in NC when I was hugely pregnant with Scott in the summer time. My husband was looking for a job, so we were a little bit stressed. It was nice to have dad there to hang out with and for him to pay for stuff like groceries or movies!

Then, as always happens when you can't afford it and you're hugely pregnant in the middle of the humid summer, our air conditioning broke. Not just a little bit, but entirely broken aka needed a replacement for tons of money.

That made Craig and I more stressed. And dad became stressed for us. He apologized that he couldn't help us pay for it and then did the only thing one can do when you meet a challenge with no solution.

He asked if he could kneel down and say a prayer with me. At the time he was having a little bit of a hard time talking. Most importanly, I remember the humility and faith that he asked Heavenly Father to bless me and Craig with all we were dealing with. And when he was done praying, he stood up and gave me a hug and reassured me that everything would be okay. We both felt the spirit of assurance that all would be okay. And it was okay.

I'm grateful that my dad who was dealing with so much himself, and been through such trying times, showed me again how important faith and prayer is in life and not doubting the reassuring answer you receive.

Turbo Diesel Rules

Dad's car:
I believe it was a 1985 Mercedes Silver 300D Turbo!

His first and only new car in his lifetime?

He had it for a good 15 years before it went to Cat in Utah, then Carl in LA. Rest In Peace, Mercedes. I still get happy whenever I see one cruisin' the streets.

Dad's Mercedes had several rules:

1. Don't put your feet in the webbing on the back of the seats.
2. Don't draw in the fog/moisture of window or else you'll have to get the windex when you get home to clean up your finger prints.
3. Don't roll down one of the windows or else it won't come back--but you can never remember which one.
4. Don't try to pull up the lock on the back doors to unlock the car door because it breaks it!
5. DIESEL GASOLINE ONLY!
6. Respect the turbo, baby!
7. What other sound makes you happier than to hear a diesel engine two miles away?
8. When bored, inspect the steel hip replacement that adorns the middle space between the front seats.
9. The stereo system only plays NPR--otherwise "somehow" your tape would be ejected out of the window and into the street.
10. Seats 5? According to Gus lore- 1 dad and 6 kids- 1 child in front, 3 in the back seats, Susie and Cathryn curled up behind the front seats.
11. Groceries don't unload themselves. Everyone has to help--stinks, huh? To make it a good, efficient grocery run, put five plastic Safeway bags on each arm and heft yourself+groceries into the house. Which breaks first--arm or plastic bag? Hopefully neither.