Hey Sports junkies, I know it’s been awhile. You didn’t expect to hear from me until Landon’s (Drew to the rest of the world) regular basketball season starts later this fall. But there’s stuff you gotta hear, and I know you’ve been waiting impatiently for an update about our favorite basketball player.

 

Landon, showing off his pearly whites, 2016…

During the off season, (there never really is an ‘off’ season for Landon) he played in an AAU (Amatuer Athletic Union) for the second year in a row. A conference out of Cleveland (3-1/2 hours away) with some pretty awesome basketball talent. And some mighty big egos. His coach both years had been LeBron James’ coach in junior high. But this year Coach Ken just seemed tired. His heart and head were not in the game. Landon’s dad, our son-in-law Tracey ended up coaching several times, which was great. He’s very good at mentoring kids right along with coaching, and still enjoys all aspects of the game. But the turnover rate on Landon’s team was tremendous. Egomaniac # 1 (of course not my Landon) sincerely thought he was much better than the rest of his team-combined, thus moved up a grade division to the 16U’s (that’s 16 and under, Landon’s team was 15U). Thank heavens. They won more games after he moved on to greener pastures. Honestly he’s not that good. Maybe I’ll be eating these words down the road. We’ll see how he does in college. Anyway he’s not my concern, only fretting about my main man here.

 

Tracey, one heck of a substitute coach this spring…

 

One week the team would play great and win the whole tournament. The next week three new players would show up. The team would struggle and be out of sync. Hey, it’s summer, families have plans too. It can’t always be just about basketball. We only saw Landon’s team in 3 tourney’s. It’s WAY different than high school basketball though. Much looser and not nearly as many set plays. For the most part, the team, coaches and fans watching seem to thrive on the spectacular shot. Much more than being a cohesive unit. I’ll admit it is exciting to see a 14, 15 or 16 year-old dunk the ball that rivals the NBA. But for me, meh, I want to watch Landon handle the ball, march it down court, run the floor setting up a play. Probably just the ‘gram’ part showing. After the summer AAU season was over, Landon had a short season with his Pioneer team and lots of basketball camps and showcases.

 

I think he’s resting his left foot. Ha. 2016…

 

Around this time Landon’s left foot began to bother him. Again. Very near where he suffered a stress fracture a couple years ago but was not correctly diagnosed until last Christmas. Causing him to miss several weeks of his season (and breaking my heart). This time he went to a specialist at U of M. The doc seems to knows his business and ordered an MRI. We were so relieved when it was not another stress fracture. It is however, a hairline fracture a couple of tootsies away from the old injury. Well shoot. Good news: it happened way before his regular high school season starts. Bad news: it will take about 8 weeks to heal, four of which will be no weight bearing at all. Good news: Landon was ‘this close’ to starting football. Now I don’t have to worry about him for that little injury prone sport. Bad news: specialist wants him to use a machine to help heal the bone, the cost is astronomical. More bad news: according to Landon, he has to wear ‘ugly as crap orthotics, and I am not doing it.’ Good news: it’s only 4 hours a day, so he can fulfill that little obligation in the privacy of his home. Trust me, he will wear it 4 hours if I have to hot glue it to his foot every day. If only Oral Roberts were still around. Anyone remember watching him on TV? He’d smack the afflicted on the forehead and yell, “heal!” I’d better stop ‘spuuting’ (making fun or mocking religion as my folks used to say with their Dutch slang words).

 

Throwback about 5 years. Landon, front row in the middle. Behind him is Brandon, a year ahead of L and highly recruited by several colleges already…

 

There are scores of sports ‘experts’ who keep track of how top players are doing in their respective positions. Hard to believe, but I guess these dudes somehow make a living at it, or totally have no life outside of basketball. One would assume by top players, their main concern would be this year’s crop of high school seniors, but that’s not the case at all. They start tracking these kids when they get in junior high. As in seventh grade. Alrighty then, re-read the sentence about having no life outside of watching basketball. And I’m sure this goes for all sports that our kids participate in.

 

My fave pic of Landon # 3 swishing a 3-pointer during his freshman year on Pioneer’s varsity, 2016…

 

A couple weeks ago I got a text with an attachment from Shannon. Some kind of basketball list for the class of 2019. I recognized one very familiar name by number 5: Landon Lowder, So (sophomore) PG (point guard). “Wow, that’s amazing,” I texted back. “Who did this, and are all the boys from mid-Michigan?” “Ah no,” she wrote back, “only Landon and number 8 are from the whole state of Michigan. The rest are from all over the country.” Me: “you’re kidding right? This Highschool_stars1 group think Landon is the number 5 point guard in the country for the class of 2019? H.O.L.Y. S.H.I.T.

 

 

Wait, it gets better. I know, I’m giddy too. A couple days later an organization called ‘Bank Hoops’ listed Michigan’s top 30 college prospects by position for the class of 2019. Landon’s listed as number 3 for point guard. I wonder if grade point average figures into this equation at all? Landon does very well in his studies. My oh my. Can he live up to all the hype? Well, I think his head is screwed on pretty straight these days. Time will tell. He needs to get serious and be committed about healing his foot. Even if it involves ugly orthotics for a month. Geez. Sometimes he acts like he’s 15. Not for much longer though. His 16th birthday is on Sunday. Another thing for me to stew about. He’ll be driving. Watch over Landon for me God. Keep his head in the game when he’s on the road.

 

Class of 2019, top 30 top college prospects. Landon’s rated # 3 for point guard…

 

One last thing. You know Landon was born with allergies up the wazoo. Milk, eggs, chocolate, beef, nuts to name a few. Sounds miserable because most of us are used to eating all these things. (Really, chocolate!) But Landon has never known any different. He loves and devours chicken, turkey, and all cuts of pork. Makes turkey burgers regularly. Eats candy, Skittles, taffy, jelly beans, Mike and Ike, Anise, but nothing with chocolate. Not even tootsie rolls. Sigh. Still, he seems no worse for the wear. Carries an Epi pen, takes Zyrtec from March through December. Shannon and Landon recently had his annual appointment with his allergist. Time for some routine allergy testing. Tests showed no allergic reaction to eggs. To be sure, doc tested him a second time. Nada. This was indeed good news. Shannon dropped Landon off at home and proceeded to go to work. Landon focused on discovering the many ways he could enjoy the incredible, edible egg. Kind of like Bubba’s array of shrimp dishes in Forest Gump. Landon ate them scrambled, poached, and fried. Then hopped on the Internet, found a recipe for Egg Drop soup. Made a quart of that and scarfed it. Shannon came home, found one very full teenager, and nary an egg in the house. Reminded me of one of my favorite movie stars when I was a teen. The movie was Cool Hand Luke, with hunk Paul Newman, during his endless scene of eating hard boiled eggs. Seems these days it’s Landon. Any which way there is to serve an egg, Landon’s gonna make it and eat it. Soon as mom buys some more…

 

Another hottie, Paul Newman in a scene from Cool Hand Luke…

 

 

For my Mom, it was a no brainer. Her mother, my grandma Coba Berghuis Wanningen, died when Mom and her twin brother were just a few days old. Maternal and paternal grands duked it out because their dad wasn’t interested in raising them. Finally conceded paternal grands would do the bulk of rearing the newborns. But the maternals had a big part in doing their fair share with the twins throughout their young lives too. Mom idolized both sets of grandparents, didn’t see much of her father, my grandpa Lakey. He was bitter about losing his young, beautiful wife.

 

Floyd and Florence Wanningen, 1927…

 

So Mom and uncle Floyd spent their entire childhood with both sets of 60 plus year old grandparents, living with the Wanningen’s but spending much of their time with the Berghuis’ just a few blocks away. It’s no wonder Mom was always very fond of the elderly.

 

Mom, her Wanningen grandparents & Floyd, Sioux Center, Iowa, 1935…

 

More complicated was why on earth have I been drawn to the elderly bunch? My great grands, the Wanningen’s were both gone by the time I was born. I vaguely remember my great grandma Berghuis. Dad’s parents (the Gerritson’s, their longevity well apparent), lived in Rock Valley, but I was not close to either of them. Dad stopped at their house daily, but I rarely went along. Since Dad was a decade older than Mom, his parents always seemed ancient. Never went to town with my grandma. She never taught me how to knit, sew, speak Dutch or cook anything. Grandpa Lakey grew closer to Mom and uncle Floyd after they were adults. He died when I was about 10. We went to his 3 room house in Sioux Center nearly every Sunday afternoon, but I don’t remember him ever talking directly to me. I do recall a beautiful antique oak crank phone hanging on his living room wall I really wish I had. With so few elderly relatives to have a relationship with, I still have trouble wrapping my head around why I’ve always loved older folks.

 

My grandparents, Arie & Bessie Gerritson. Both passed away in the early-mid 1970’s…

 

I know it must have started with the neighborhood on 15th Street. I was only 4-1/2 when we moved and was amazed and ecstatic by the number of kids on our block. But every other house was home to an elderly person on our street too. Most of those names are on the tip of my tongue but have escaped during the last 6 decades. Their faces, the insides of the homes, their smiles, still have a place in my heart. I believe there were 2 widows on our block alone, plus an older couple right east of us. Maybe Kooima’s and related to the Ribbons? Before the Gayer’s moved in the house west of us, a widow lived there. She went on our California trip (sharing the backseat of a 2-door un-air conditioned Chevy Biscayne with one of her grandchildren) and me. She unfortunately was not at the top of my list of favorites. Not her fault, think her trip contribution paid for a chunk of ours. Still I was kind of bratty and wanted the backseat to myself for that long haul. Across the street, east of the Beumer’s was another widow, plus the quirky family living on the southwest corner in a haukee (Dutch word for add on, or lean to, really it was a shack) named the Henningfield’s. Behind our house was Mrs. Kuiper, another widow. I visited all these neighbors with regularity, especially my favorite, Bessie Jacobs. I think most were pretty free with cookies, or sweet breads, a glass of pop or milk to wash it down. They all loved to talk and so did I. Across the street west from the Henningfield’s was another older gentleman friend of my Dad’s named John Dodeward (probably messed up the spelling on that Dutch name pretty good. Sorry John). Mom helped some very special friends named Ivor and Frances Dearborn, who lived just a couple blocks away.

 

John Dodeward & Dad, maybe mid 1970’s…

 

Even though I was surrounded by these special folks and loved them all, a big part of my life long fascination with the elderly started when Mom got a job at our new nursing home named Valley Manor. An inspiration of several local Rock Valley men with long term vision for our small Dutch, mostly farming community. I’m not sure if Mom was employed by Valley Manor when they first opened in 1963. If not an original, she was one of their first new hires. When the building plans were becoming reality, the committee had the foresight of easy expansion which was needed soon after they opened. Mom took nurse’s aide classes, even learning how to give insulin shots. I remember her practice giving shots on oranges! Yikes. At least it wasn’t on me. And she looked so professional. Bought at least a week’s worth of white uniforms. All dresses, different styles. Kept meticulously pristine white, washed and ironed, hanging neatly in a closet, ready for her next day of nurturing and caring for the elderly.

 

Uniform like Mom wore to work everyday in the 60’s…

 

This was about 5 years after my brother Larry had been killed. Our family life was sort of kapoot. Dad had accepted Jesus and spent 6 nights out of 7 a week teaching, preaching, visiting the sick or other church activities as an elder on the Consistory. Didn’t feel the need to be with his downsized family of 2, namely me and Mom. Working at Valley Manor was good for Mom. Mostly a loner, she formed some incredible friendships over the years she worked there. Admired and respected the administrator, Al Porter, and Dorothy Smith, the head RN. Adie Dykstra, Marion De Young were some of her dearest friends.

 

Al Porter, Valley Manor’s administrator, mid-1960’s…

 

And me. I was like the mascot of Valley Manor. It was like a magnet, drawing me in. Anyone who frequents nursing homes should be puzzled by this. I still am. Most times these places are difficult places to visit, even if you have a loved one there. I knew no one, but the residents were a hot topic at our supper table each night. Right after getting the lowdown on my day at school, Valley Manor stories would begin. Never anything confidential or health related, but usually a cute quip one of them had said to Mom or a conversation they had that day. Not sure, but believe Doc Hegg took care of the residents after it opened. Hegg Memorial Hospital was on the drawing board, but wouldn’t be built for another 3 or 4 years.

 

Dr. Hegg making rounds at Valley Manor. I adored him….

 

In the beginning they’re weren’t many residents in Valley Manor, less than a dozen I think, when I started visiting. Making my way through the wing, stopping in every room. I was 12. Hubs grandpa Van Berkum lived there. (I didn’t know who John was at the time, he was 3 years older than me. Safe bet though, we may have visited Valley Manor at the same time). Mr. Manning was an original too (living there and being a character. Mom adored him as did I). He rarely wore shoes, scooted around in a wheelchair and wore red socks. Now who couldn’t dearly love a guy like that?

 

Neese as a teen when I frequented Valley Manor, mid1960’s…

 

As the place filled up, they added wings to Valley Manor. One newcomer was a gal about my Mom’s age, who was in her late 30’s at the time. Her name was Kathy (another butcher job on her Dutch last name, sorry) Boekestine. Mentally challenged, she was thin and didn’t talk much and wasn’t easily understood, at least by me. Still we were great friends. Once a week Mom would buy Kathy a package of Little Debbie’s when she got groceries. Mom let me bring the treat to Kathy when I visited. At times it seemed like the high point of her week. She could sense when I was coming and would be standing at the front door. She’d grab the box, giggle, run (yes she could run) to her room and put them away. Then sprint back to me. Grabbed my hand in hers for the rest of my time that day at Valley Manor. We’d go up and down the hall, wandering in rooms and visit. Kathy, clinging to my hand, smiling and listening to this young teenager talk to old people. Man those are some precious memories I’ve got stored up.

 

Valley Manor, early 1960’s. Mom and I both loved the place…

 

A gentleman named Frank Kelly moved into Valley Manor from Alvord. Mom learned through their chats when he was younger he was an artist. She bought some paints, different sized canvases and encouraged him to start painting again. He was really good. After Frank finished several paintings they hung them up somewhere in Valley Manor with a ‘for sale’ ticket attached. Weeks later I don’t believe any paintings had yet sold. Frank was discouraged and disappointed. So Mom bought them all. Yay, Mom! She had them all professionally framed.

 

A Frank Kelly original, 1977, while living in Valley Manor…

Mom, describing in great detail one of Frank’s paintings…

 

I immediately claimed I needed, at the bare minimum, at least 2 of them. Mom being the detail person she was, turned my favorite one over, got out an ink pen and wrote on the back. To this day, the painting makes me smile, while what she wrote on the back still makes me cry…

 

My absolute favorite painting by Frank Kelly who lived in Valley Manor…

Mom was thorough in the details, which brings tears to this day…

 

 

I think most families have at least a couple. One of ours was unintentional and started a few years after Hubs and I eloped. We were in the midst of learning the ropes as parents to our adorable firstborn, Shannon. Neither John or I recognized the frequency of these strange phenomenons right away. Wasn’t exactly funny ha-ha, especially if your name was John. At the same time, if you were into dark humor, or goosebumply happenings, it was strangely humorous. No matter how many times we moved while the kids were around, these “incidents” followed us until all the kids flew the coop.

 

1976, Joshua appears to not know daddy because Shannon is wearing his glasses…

I noticed a pattern by the time Shannon was starting school. She or her baby brother, Joshua would come down with a cold, ear infection diarrhea, croup, or some other childhood malady. Usually happened as one, two, or later 3 kids were on the mend. I’d be doing my happy mom dance. Hallelujah, praise the Lord, amen. At least a couple of the rugrats would be heading back to school. Even if one had to remain home an extra day, there was light at the end of the tunnel. The time slot might be too small for accurate measurements, but there would be a little ‘me time.’ Vitally important for this mom’s sanity.

I hope I’m not alone in this world to what occurred next. Oddly enough, this did not just show up when an illness hit the kids. Too often to be anything but a warped coincidence, it happened often enough when one of them got hurt too. Just as my little clan appeared to be on the mend, sure as the sun comes up in the east, John would come down with whatever the kids were just getting over. Or get hurt. Only much worse than all three put together. Why me God? Having Hubs home sick easily surpassed having all 3 kiddos down and out at the same time. He’s a horrible patient. Those stinking tonsils were a huge part of the problem. Why did he have tonsils anyway? Everybody born during the 40’s through the 60’s had their tonsils and adenoids removed. It was part of being a kid, a rite of passage. Mona and Larry were hauled to Doc Hegg’s office together, given a bit of ether, and got those suckers snipped. At the time, I was too young, but had mine a decade later when I was about 10 after enough sore throats for a dozen kids.

 

Me about 10 when I got my tonsils out, 1960…

 

But not John. I don’t know if his sibs had their tonsils out, but John did not and has suffered (making me suffer too) for it numerous times. When Johnny Wayne was little and had a tooth ache his mom or dad would stuff cloves or tobacco in the offending tooth. (Hubs said he never thought either one really helped, but it tasted so bad in your mouth you forgot about the pain). They took care of most ailments the old fashioned way. Poultices and home remedies like their parents and grandparents used. This was not a bad thing. In fact, after the discovery of penicillin, we started using antibiotics so often that many of us built up an immunity to them. They no longer worked when we got sick. The offending germs, bacteria or whatever was making us sick got smarter, bigger and stronger and mutated or something. So we needed stronger drugs to outsmart them. A vicious cycle.

 

Watch out Daddy, your Christmas might not be so Merry…

 

Anyway, by the time the kids were old enough to realize what was constantly happening in our house anytime one or all of them got sick, it kind of became a family joke. Sick. Poor John. Not only lagging days behind the kids, but more often sicker than any of the kids. Yet he was in the house with them the least amount of time. Seemed impossible. Still well documented in our home.

 

No I wasn’t sick, maybe daddy was. Mother’s Day breakfast, 1981…

 

On the other hand, I rarely got sick. Didn’t catch their flu bugs or upper respiratory infections. I just never felt under the weather. Until I started working with adorable, snot-nosed, rash laden, cough, blow raspberries in my face, stick their drool laden fingers in my mouth, little squirts at the day care. I’m the virtual magnet Queen for poop, having noses wiped on my clothes, spit-up, rashes, coughs, for the entire school. In the last 6 months my illness stats are just a bit better than Johnny Bench during his illustrious career totals. Yes, I’m capable of catching a better game if it’s childhood illnesses you’re pitching my way. So proud.

 

Has Daddy had the pox before? Shannon, 1979…

 

Why? How? I’m fastidious about washing my hands, especially at work. Yesterday I sported smeared avocado on my shoulder, and a very noticeable snot stain on my blue capris. We had a 4 hour CPR/First aid course after work. I arrived about 10 minutes before it started wearing nice, clean clothes since I had been home for several hours in between work and the training. I was early so walked into ‘my’ baby room. One little sweetie was waiting momentarily for her mom. She honestly squealed with delight when she saw me. A word about this misconception of having favorites. I’ve talked about it before, saying I seem to be drawn to all the ‘high maintenance’ little farts. After working another couple months with pretty much the same ‘bunch ‘o babes’ I no longer believe this to be true. I don’t think I have favorites. But I do believe with my whole heart that certain babies are drawn to us. Some more than others. While some seem not to care one whit which of us is giving them undivided attention, several babies definitely seem to have favorites. If something’s not quite right for them, they are happy when anyone tries to figure out how to make their little world better for the moment. But after a couple of seconds, especially if they’ve taken a spill, they want to be conforted by their favorite caregiver. Sometimes it’s the only way they can be consoled. So to me, it’s been the babies picking us more than me picking the baby. Anyway, I walked up to her while she was sitting on someone’s lap. She literally jumped in my arms, squealing, wiggling and hugging me. And promptly spit up all over my new top. Really. Boy did I smell good in the un-airconditioned gym filled with co-workers and highly trained EMT’s. No wonder I had trouble finding a partner for mouth to mouth. Kidding. The dummy was just fine with me and my lingering spit up smell.

 

Josh on the farm, but no Hoof & Mouth there, just chocolate mouth, not contagious, 1976…

 

I’ve managed to avoid any serious lung issues for 65 years. That’s nothing to sneeze at folks. It’s downright impressive. By the time I had worked with the babies for 2 months, I was in the middle of a very dangerous case of pneumonia. Yeah, me. That cough lasted 2 months. Soon after it finally went away, I got another scratchy throat, tickle in my throat making my eyes squirt water and a cough for 2 weeks. This time I got better on my own.

 

No, not Hand, Foot & Mouth. Adam with Oreo Mouth & Hand, 1980…

 

I can’t blame the babies for my knee issue which started right after I began working, but was unrelated. Lugging babies probably didn’t help and perhaps hindered a better time line for healing, but the little stinkers were not responsible. Last week however, I woke up with a thick, scratchy throat again. Tickle in my throat making water from my eyes squirt for the third time in 6 months. Seriously. If only they weren’t so adorable. I thought I was doing an OK job of fighting off the crud myself, but the cough was getting worse. Keeping me up several hours a night. Maybe I’m just paranoid after that horrible bout in April and May. After all I did manage to avoid catching hand, foot and mouth disease that zipped through the preschool a couple weeks ago. Yes, you read that right. Hand, foot, and mouth. Never even heard of it before. And my kids caught most of that stuff at one time or another. H F & M is kinda tricky. By the time you sport a fever or rash, you’re no longer contagious. So there’s really no symptoms until it’s too late. I guess it’s quite hard for an adult to catch it, but my luck hasn’t been all that great lately. But maybe my luck had changed.

 

John might be smiling, but if Shannon was sick, he soon would be too…

 

Until I got up a couple of days ago. Slept awful because of the cough, but wasn’t done trying to duke it out myself. Laid in bed for a few minutes after waking up because it was my day off. Still super early but grateful for another day on earth. Stretched and rubbed my face. Eyes were gritty and crusty. Oh dear Lord, please don’t let me have something else. I’m working very hard trying to fight off this upper chest pox crap. Limped (leg continues to improve though, thanks God) to the bathroom, turned on the light and could see nothing but red in my eyes. Are you fricking kidding me? P!nk eye! Oh hells bells. Waited until the doctor’s office opened, lamented my woes, and got in to see someone today.

 

Doc walks in, immediately says, “What’s going on today Denise? You look well. Wow, except for your eyes.” Sadly said I thought I had P!nk eye. “Good grief, your voice sounds terrible! When did that start?” Hanging my head in shame, I went on, “I seem to catch everything those babies throw my way. I’ve been fighting this sore throat and cough for a week.” She listened to my lungs and determined, “This has gone on long enough since you just recovered from being very sick. We’ll get some drops for the eye business, and something for that upper respiratory thing. If you don’t feel much better by the end of the week, I want to see you again. You should be building up immunities to most of these illnesses you’re catching after a year or so. How long have you worked there?” Ticking off the months, I said, “Six months, but I’ve only been sick for 3 of them!” “Halfway there,” she laughed, handing me my chart and walked out the door…

 

Yup, it was all about to start. Poor Hubs…