Since physicists haven’t figured out yet how to suspend children in a little frozen haze, we wondered whether we were crazy taking our two grandchildren, 20-month-old Kasen, and 8-month-old “Pumpkin Pie,” a.k.a. Masen, on a vacation to Puerto Rico and Minnesota.
Going on a simple outing with young children is challenging. A five-week vacation that includes air travel, well, that’s monumental.
With determination, a heavy dose of patience, and fierce love we set out with the “little pumpkins” for what would become the mother of all vacations.
Along the way, we walked the streets of Old San Juan, hiked the trails of Puerto Rico’s rainforest, soaked up the soul-warming sun on the Caribbean, shopped ’til we dropped at the Mall of America, and watched over the wild animals at the Como Park Zoo.
But years from now, when we remember the great journey of 2011, what we’ll remember best is the quality time spent with our grandchildren.
As any grandparent knows, grandchildren are a gift for letting your children live. There must be something akin to genetic perfecting involved, because by the third generation, any defect of character or temperament that may have been painstakingly apparent in you, your spouse, or any of your children, is completely gone in your grandchildren.
The first leg of our vacation: Puerto Rico.
“Bienvenido” read the sign at the San Juan Airport; and standing next to the sign was the island’s greatest export, my wife, Marti. And that was a nice enough welcome for me.
Tears of joy streamed down the faces of Marti’s family as they met us at the airport.
For the next three weeks the family gathered together, set up the grill, pulled out the toys for the kids and got down to the business of having fun and bringing the grandchildren into the fold.
As I sit here basking in the memories made with our Puerto Rican family and friends, I feel enriched by the experience. The time the family spent with the grandchildren was filled with laughter, discovery and joy.
The second leg of our journey took us 3,000 miles north to Minnesota.
They were the people I was raised with. They were my family, but they were also my friends. Then we grew up. Some of us moved away. Didn’t see each other much except on those rare occasions when everyone was home at the same time. The rest of the time, life was too filled with work and raising a family for us to slow down.
That was until July.
A special thing happened while we were there. We all came together as if the years hadn’t passed. Sure, we’d grown and changed, but the essence of who we were as children remained. I was reminded of how much these people meant to me and how glad I was to see them again.
Hugs, kisses, and laughter reigned when the family met the grandchildren for the first time.
A sizzling grill, corn on the cob, a house filled with children laughing and playing with aunts, uncles, and cousins. Toss in corny humor and a heavy dose of “uffta,” a Swedish term for sensory overload, and you have a Lofstrom family get together.
You might wonder how much could we really see, do, and enjoy with two young grandchildren in tow.
The answer to that question, I’m pleased to report, is a lot. We adapted our game plan to accommodate our small companions, but much less than we anticipated. In return, we got to see a part of the world through the eyes of a child.
What have I learned from it all?
I’ve learned that nothing we do for our grandchildren is ever wasted. They seem not to notice us at times, and they seldom offer thanks, but what we do for them is never wasted.
I’ve learned that those little sets of eyes watch every move you make. So when it comes to instilling values in your grandchildren, you better practice what you preach.
The last leg of our vacation was the journey home.
We groaned at the news: Our flight from Minneapolis was delayed at least four hours.
My wife looked exhausted just at the prospect of spending an afternoon trapped in the airport, and the three-hour flight back to Tampa.
You know you’ve had a difficult flight when, returning home at last, your wife jumps out of the car and collapses in your front yard — I love it when she kisses the ground like that.
Ah, home sweet home.
