Adam Steinhoff Archives

July 22, 2013

Birthday Season Starts Early

Mother decided several years ago that a birthDAY in October wasn’t enough: she wanted a birthday season. Well, she has outdone herself this year.

Wife Lila, Friend Anne and I descended on her in late June. It’s past mid-July and I’m still in town. I have to head out to Ohio to do a photo exhibit and a couple of presentations, then (if there are no hurricanes headed to Florida), I’m headed back to Cape to work on some more projects.

Several years back, we gave Mother an iPad to replace her obsolete WebTV. It has become her favorite toy. Son Matt had a newer iPad he wanted to upgrade, so he let Brother Mark and me pick it up cheaply, then he offered to kick in a share of it for his birthday season gift. Her old model was WI-fi only, so she couldn’t use it when she was at Kentucky Lake unless she cruised around looking for hot spots. (For the digitally uninitiated, a hot spot is a place where you can pick up someone’s unsecured internet connection. It has nothing to do with the place across the river from Cape.) The new one can run off cellular service.

The new one will let her do Facetime with her grandkids, too. (If we can ever get it set up. Mark spent half the afternoon trying to get her Apple ID working.)

“It’s a bleeping lawnmower shed”

The Tulsa branch of the Steinhoff Family: Amy, David and Diane, came into town because David had this crazy idea that mother needed a shed to hold her riding lawnmower. Mark came down from St. Louis so he could join me in chanting “It’s a bleeping lawnmower shed, for bleep’s sake.” David, you see, has never found a project he couldn’t over-engineer.

To keep him from building some kind of teak and mahogany Taj Mahal, I found a $144 10x10x8 soft-sided shed the instructions said could be put together in two hours by 2+ people. The catch was that you had to have the right 2+ people whose names were not Steinhoff. You’ll get the full Shed in a Box story later if I can bring myself to relive the experience.

Amy and Mother

Mother timed the demise of her microwave oven to coincide with a houseful of guests. Faced with imminent starvation, the Tulsa Branch came up with a new microwave for Early Birthday Season. Amy, an accomplished shopper, aided in the search.

There is a rumor that other Florida Steinhoffs may be landing just about the time I depart (assuming I ever do). If the sheets ever get cold in Cape, she says she may jet out to see Granddaughter Kim’s new home in Austin.

No telling what she expects us to do with her 92cd rolls around on October 17. I guess I should start looking around for someplace she can go skydiving. (As always, you can click on the photos to make them larger.)

June 24, 2013

The Anniversary Card

I was sleeping the sleep of the just this morning when I heard a movement over by my computer. It was Wife Lila, on her way to church, leaving something. “Go back to sleep, she said.”

When I achieved consciousness some time later. (We won’t admit to how much later.) I immediately recognized what it was.

Anniversary card

As near as we could piece together, she remembered buying this card when Son Adam was into radio controlled cars when he was 10 or 12 years old. He’ll turn 33 July 7, so that makes this card at least 20 years old.

We forget to celebrate

I described last year why I can never remember our anniversary date of June 23: Buddy Bob Rogers asked when we were going to get married. (Lila and me, not Bob and me.) I told Bob to name a date; he picked June 27. That didn’t work out for some reason, so June 23 was the alternate. (Lila was standing there, so it’s not like she didn’t have any input.)

But, I’m not the only one who forgets the date, hence the card. So long as it’s around, we don’t have to make a mad dash to the store to pick one up at the last minute. On top of that, cards are expensive these days. I bet we’ve saved close to a couple hundred bucks on cards by recycling this one. (I mean, you wouldn’t expect her to spring for a cheap one, would you?)

Five years ago she included a photo of me with Grandson Malcolm. I had been on a bike ride and had hooked up with them at Dreher Park in West Palm Beach. Malcolm insisted on climbing a hill in the park, then wanted a drink out of my Camelbak hydration pack.

He’s almost as tall as his grandmother these days, and we have two more of the most perfect grandsons in the world.

It’s been a good run. I can’t wait to get the card again next year. (And, thanks for letting me sleep.) She – and it – become more special every year.

Game plan is to head back to Cape noonish on Monday. See you all there. I’ll have a bunch of calendars for anyone interested in Cape. I’ll let you know where you can pick them up if you are there. If you would like one mailed, hold off a few days. Lila says she’ll play postal person when she gets back in town after the 4th of July.

May 12, 2013May 12, 2013

Not Enough Words

I usually start with a picture, then wrap some words around it. This time, though, I have an endless supply of pictures and not enough words to express how I feel about Mary Welch Steinhoff. So, on this Mother’s Day, here’s a small sample of Mother with her family.

Every picture I ran across led me to another, and there are scores that I remembered and couldn’t lay my hands on quickly. Mother sure has packed a lot of livin’ into her 91 years.

Mary Welch Steinhoff, my Mother

Click on any photo to make it larger,then click on the sides to move through the gallery.

March 25, 2013

Birthdays Come and Gone

When do birthdays stop being a big deal? March 24 is the date of my birth, but I have lost all concept of how old I am. I was prepared to tell folks I had been around the sun 67 times, but that can’t be true because I got my Medicare card last year. Guess that makes me 66.

Back in 2011, I shared a whole page of photos of childhood landmarks in time. I was telling someone the other day that most people think of major milestones and identity crises in even-numbered years like 20, 30 and 40.

I had those periods of self-assessment at odd years, like 24, 27, 32, 57 and 60. Wife Lila would probably say that’s because I never use round numbers in the microwave: 2:16 for popcorn; and that I take naps that are 22-minutes long. (I learned a long time ago that accounting was less likely to question my expense reports if I used odd number like $6.13 or $12.47 because they assumed people who put down stuff like $6.00 or $12.50 were either guessing or making up items.)

Photo staff remembered my 30th

Wife Lila and the folks on the photo staff pulled off a surprise birthday party for my 30th. They were ostensibly gathering at the house to watch the last episode of the Mary Tyler Moore show on March 19, 1977, so I was surprised when they pulled out this photo of me in a gas mask covering riots at Ohio University that the staff had signed. Across the top, someone had scrawled, “HAPPY 30! If you’ve survived this far, you’re bound to make it the next thirty!”

Maybe that’s one of the reasons my 60th was so traumatic: I was afraid that someone had set my sell-by date with that headline. It’s also disconcerting to note that at least half of the people who signed the photo – some of whom were younger than me – are dead.

No respect by my 40th

By the time my 40th rolled around, the staff was a bit less respectful. We had a bunch of turnover in the department about that time. I won’t say this artwork had anything to do with it….

My 50th was a major blow-out at the office, an event attended by all of upper management, including my friend the H.R. Director. I thanked her, in particular, for the shindig since the jokes and gag gifts showed a definite prejudice against older workers, a protected group that I had just joined. My discrimination lawsuit alleging a hostile work environment would make it possible for me to retire to a life of ease, I warned.

I got high on birthday cake and forgave them at the last minute, unfortunately.

A traumatic 60th

Dad and his two brothers died on or before their 61st birthdays, so I was afraid my days were numbered. I told my staff that I would just as soon let the day pass unobserved. As it turned out, I didn’t have to worry about it because I came down with some kind of cold or other ailment that I was sure was going to usher me to the Other Side, and I skipped a few days of work. On my birthday, just about the time I was feeling merely miserable instead of on death’s doorstep, the whole Steinhoff clan from three states knocked on the door and dragged me out for a bike ride.

Once I made it past 60, I decided that I had a few more good years left in me. That’s when I stopped doing the math and keeping score. When I wrack up as many Birthday Seasons as Mother, then I may start counting again.

That brings us to today

When I go to bed at night, I usually pull a shade at the head of the bed to keep the room cooler and darker so I can sleep late after staying up until 2 a.m. or so doing these posts. I forgot to do it on the 23rd, so I felt unusually warm when I started becoming conscious on my birthday.

“Maybe I didn’t make it to my birthday,” I thought. Not wanting to open my eyes and confirm my fears by getting dirt in them, I elected to go back to sleep.

About half an hour later, I was jolted awake by a brilliant beam of light. “Darn, maybe I made the cut after all,” crossed my mind. After straining my ears for several minutes listening for harp music that never came, I opened my eyes and saw the open shade.

Light was terrestrial, not celestial

I was much relieved to determine the brilliant light was terrestrial, not celestial.

Later in the day, the whole family gathered out at Son Adam’s to help him put some solar panels on his roof. I waved my Medicare card and was exempt from wrestling 4 x 12-foot panels in 23 mph (gusting to 45mph) winds, but I did get to make a bunch of trips up and down the ladders.

The family wasn’t sure I was capable of blowing out my cake candles, so they elected to serve it outside where the wind took care of extinguishing them for me.

Thanks to all my Facebook friends who left me birthday wishes, including those who were kind enough to add “you’re looking good,” something they never said when it was really true.

The next step is for them to say, “Don’t he look natural?”