Cold Corn

This winter reminded me of another a few years ago during another contentious campaign season.  I'm watching loved ones age, dealing with my own aging body, and witnessing mothers and fathers passing away. I'm losing people I love at an alarming rate and this new year kicked off a slew of new losses. It reminds me of the January a few years ago that we found ourselves in Iowa for the coldest winter of my life.  And it turned out to be the last time I saw my Father-in-Law.

So, on this rainy day I decided to share a letter I wrote to a friend during that long cold winter when I found myself far away from home.

Dear Jack,

I'm writing you from "sunny" Iowa (that's a joke because it ain't!).  Christmas Day brought some troubling news.  My Music Man's dad was admitted to the hospital on Christmas Eve and we hightailed it out of town before the New Year got started.  We arrived on New Year's Day to a toasty 5 Below Zero (who lives here?!).  Luckily, we were able to find some decent flights at the last minute.  We planned to be here a week, but with his release from the hospital, we realized he needs serious Home Care and he's not set up for that.  This illness appears to be long term, his recovery is slow with many details to ensure his safety and ongoing basic care before we leave.  We changed our plans to stay until February, if we don't freeze first.

My Father-in-Law just came home a couple of days ago.  We're still trying to sort things out, help with the transition and continued care.  It's a challenge, I'll tell ya.  The good news is that he is doing better, griping about any money we spend (he doesn't like that we are buying groceries).  He gripes when we do anything for him to help ("OH, just sit down and stop working so hard!").  So, every day I see improvement.

My Father-in-Law treats me very well.  But, it's hard to hear him bellyache.  I resolve to stay out of the middle of father and son.  My Music Man tries to help, to assist, and his father gets annoyed.  I know why -- he's mad at his own body for not working the way it used to.  And, my Music Man says he's okay with that.  He is amazingly calm, patient, sweet, etc. in the face of his father's grumbling, so I need to keep my mouth shut.  This is an interesting lesson for me.  Learning to keep quiet.  I watched him this morning sit and listen to his dad complain about everything from oatmeal to milk to shoveling snow to keeping everything the way it is (even though his home is riddled with hazards for an elder who is not quite steady on his feet).

And there are hazards everywhere.  He has fallen before but won't listen to reasonable ideas or suggestions (such as replacing a slippery rug near the kitchen sink with one that has a rubber bottom).  No hand rails in the bathroom... well, you get the idea.  The house is simply not set up for an elder who has obvious limitations.  Heck, if the doctor prescribed it, he'd jump right on the bandwagon.  If there's a pill for it, he'll take it.  But, by god, anything we suggest to make improvements, especially if it requires any effort or money, is met with stubborn resistance.

I know it's hard to hear this from your kids.  I had the same problem with my grandma.  Funny thing -- their stubbornness is what keeps them going to a ripe old age, so you can't make that go away.  I just don't want the same thing to happen to him that happened to my grandma, like the time she fell in her home and no one knew for a whole day she couldn't get up.  Anyway, it's the challenge we face.

As for me, I am feeling a bit isolated.  My Father-in-Law doesn't have cable, relying only on what these old-fashioned "rabbit ears" pick up for the TVs in the house.  Old TVs, no VCRs or DVDs, the internet is at a snail's pace (I can't look at any videos on the computer because they only show 5 seconds at a time with a 10 second pause in between, and downloads take forever).  I never thought of myself as an internet addict, perhaps I'm just dependent and maybe just a little bored.

It's crazy cold here (it barely gets above 32 degrees) and there's about 2 feet of snow on the ground.  It's getting black and dirty now, since it hasn't snowed in a couple of days...they say it's supposed to snow tonight.

There are no vegetables in Iowa (okay, so that's a bit of an exaggeration).

There are no Whole Foods, either (that's true).

"Organic" is a foreign term.

Houses the size of ours are going for about $120,000.  No wonder housing prices are higher in California -- right now, I'd pay triple!

And, to make matters worse, the day after we arrived, I promptly got sick with a really bad cold which meant I had to call my doctor and get some antibiotics because things were going downhill fast.  I feel like a mucus factory.

I've decided to focus all my energy on being supportive of my Music Man in the face of his father's apparent anger (which I think stems from the fact that he can't do anything for himself and feels bad when people try to help him).

We (briefly) talked about even moving here for a little while to help with any transition we might need to facilitate.  The truth is, I don't think I could stand it.  It's very "white bread" out here.  My Music Man went to the grocery store yesterday and came home with some hilarious stories.  They just live differently than we do.  Which is fine, but, when you're used to having what we have at our fingertips, being away feels a bit stifling.

Believe me, it would be a huge fight to get my Father-in-Law to move to California.  I think he'd rather die.  It's more likely that we will find him an assisted living situation and plan to return here often.

Life sure is interesting, isn't it?  Never thought I'd find myself here in the dead of winter doing this.  It was very interesting, though, to be here for the Iowa Caucus.  I'm able to follow the campaigns very closely (too much time on my hands, perhaps).  Scouring the internet the most entertainment I can find.  Luckily, my Father-in-Law has some great old books here, so the reading is like a gourmet meal.

What a rich full life we live.  It gives new meaning to the saying, "There's no place like home."

Gee, I miss CALIFORNIA.

"Frosty"

Today I met 7-year-old Naomi, the daughter of My Music Man’s old high school buddy.  She was delightful and quickly brought out my inner little girl.  As we chatted about the snow on the ground here in Iowa, I told her that I very much wanted to create a snowman and she volunteered to be my “partner-in-crime.” Last night, while we were sleeping, a steady snow fell and over 4 inches accumulated overnight.  I am told this is only an average.  Some places got more, some less.  I am sure we got more.  The snow was beautiful, very fluffy, and piled up everywhere.   There was so much snow, the snowplows were working around the clock.  I can’t imagine how tired they must be of this cold powder called “snow.”  For the last 24 hours I have seen more snowplows, John Deere tractors with attachments, and little “mini plows” than I’ve seen regular cars.

And I've learned something I never knew  - not all snow is created equal.  Snow has certain properties, depending on the outside temperature.  This is a noteworthy fact because the temperature never got above 20 degrees today.  It was so cold that the snow did not stick together at all.  It was like holding very cold talcum powder.  Try to make a cohesive ball out of talcum powder.  It simply doesn’t work.  This flies in the face of my old believes about snow.  I used to think that snow was snow.  Can’t you always make a snowball with snow?

I have heard that in the Inuit culture, they have many different words for what we simply call “snow.”  After today, this makes sense.

My ultimate objective was to make my first snowman in over 2 decades.  I innocently thought that with all the snow that had fallen overnight, there would be plenty…and there was!  I just couldn’t make it stick together enough to make a simple small snowball!  I quickly learned that I had to take off my (warm) gloves and hold the snowball in my warm-ish hands and blow to bring it up to a temperature that would cause it to stick together.   This only worked for a short time because after a couple of small snowballs for the body of the snowman, my  hands were frozen.  I didn’t know how badly they were frozen until I went inside to use the bathroom.  Suddenly, I felt a great deal of pain in my fingers and a throbbing warmth that felt like my bones had been set on fire.

The final result was a beautiful little “mini” snowman that Naomi named “Frosty.”  We searched the land to find the important accessories that all snow people must have -- the buttons, the arms, the eyes, the pipe, the nose (we imported a raisin for this), and, of course, the hat.  He started out bald and we decided that he had to have a hat, or hair, however the observer wanted to interpret our art piece.  The search for these snow-fashion-accessories was an adventure all by itself.  We knew that we would have to be realistic about the size of our precious snowman.  He would have to be small or we would get frostbite.

“Frosty” was about 8 inches tall, and he played hockey.  We found him a wonderful hockey stick and a hockey puck that looked more like a soccer ball (that is if you were to calculate the scale of our new friend).  He had precious red berry buttons, eyes made from the pods, which created an “eyelash-y” look.  His hat was made of an evergreen pine bush and Naomi insisted on finishing our creation with a dusting of snow over his head.

The snow feels and looks like the sand at Dillon beach a couple of miles from my house, and it behaves about the same way.  I couldn’t make a “sand ball” with the sand there, but I could try to make a sand castle and that is the very logic that I used to make “Frosty.”  Basically, adding water (in this case, damp heat) you would make the crystals stick together.

While I tediously worked on the little guy, Naomi made snow angels in the front yard.  Given the amount of snow and the powdery consistency, it was far easier to make a snow angel than it was to make our snowman.  She was obviously a veteran.

As the afternoon peaked, the sun sparkled on the snowy ground.  with in weather that is too cold to even contemplate, there was no chance of melting and I knew that “Frosty” would guard their house for a while, given the promised weather forecast.  By tonight, it would dip down to some number with a negative in front of it and the temps forecasted in the coming weekend didn’t bode much better.

To say that I’m glad to be heading home on Monday would be a given.  Yet, this adventure is full of fertile education.  I have learned a lot about snow, things I never knew, and things I thought I did know have been up-ended.  I’ll never think of Iowa in the same way, heck, I’ll never think of snow in the same way.  It makes me want to learn all those Inuit words that describe all the many types of snow that exist and find out how to make a snowman out of each and every kind.

But, most of all, I learned that I never want to waste a good snow.  I'll never pass up the opportunity to make a snowman with a sweet little angel named Naomi, even if it means I get frostbite.