A New Word

     I learned a new word this year, though it comes about 30 years late. Since I turned 35, I have been keeping a journal, an irregular diary so to speak, every five years. So I wrote journal entries when I turned 35, then 40, 45, 50, 55, 60, 65 and now that I'm 70. I had always referred to these as my quintennial journals, thinking quintennial meant something that occurred every five years.

    Only this year did I discover that the correct word is quinquennial. Better late than never. Here are some past entries from my quinquennial journals:

    June 11, 1988—I supervise four full-time and one half-time staff, a college guy named Doug hired by the previous supervisor, a single woman, because she thought he was cute. “Little did she know I had brains too,” he told us at my first meeting with the group. “It must not have come out in the interview,” I cracked. Doug didn't laugh. Nobody else did either. I have a feeling that they don't know how to relate to their new supervisor yet.

    June 27, 1993—I think Scott (my youngest son who was 7 at the time) reburied his time capsule in the yard somewhere. I found one time capsule abandoned in the gutter and another by the side of the house where it almost was a victim of the lawnmower's sharp blades. Scott said his intent is to keep his latest time capsule buried for a whole week.

    May 31, 1998—I decided to visit my ailing grandma who says she wants to go into a nursing home. I wish I would be able to remember her once she's gone as she once was, going to bingos, talking and laughing with that cheery, spirited voice. Now she's stuck in her chair unable to go outside and sit in the shade of her driveway walk, her favorite place to be in sunny weather (my grandma died in less than a year).

    June 5, 2003—Greg (my oldest son who was 21 at the time) got his second paycheck today, $715. He says he's going clubbing tonight. Burns the candle at both ends, he does. Scott will be burning the candle at one end as he's working at Blockbuster video till closing time. That means close to 1 a.m. I guess I'll have to relent and let him drive the truck, rather than staying up way past my own bedtime. I can't burn candles like I used to.

    June 22, 2008—Scott just left to return to Michigan State University. We all went to the engagement party for Greg and Lindsay in Clinton. Lindsay's parents have a nice home and a HUGE backyard. We were especially touched when Lindsay's grandma gave a toast to the happy couple-to-be. (Lindsay's grandma is still living at over 100 years old).

    May 31, 2013—One thing I've learned pretty quickly is how free days can be frittered away with minimal effort. I told my old boss Craig that time just seems to slip through your fingers when you retire if you're not careful. Best get going.

    June 13, 2018—Long day babysitting Greg's grandboys yesterday. Now that that Grant, 7, and Luke, 5, can speak in complete sentences, they can be funny. When workmen completed tearing off and installing a new roof on the house down the block, Grant said it was done quickly “because they didn't talk. I didn't hear a peep out of them. Only the sound of their tools.” Then when Owen, 1, was taking a nap, I heard Luke talking loudly. So I raced upstairs to reprimand him just as he was emerging from doing his business in the bathroom. I told him to keep it down and told him to flush the toilet. “I didn't want to wake Owen,” Luke gave as his excuse for not flushing. Kids.

    May 25, 2023—In the past four years we've added two more grandkids with another one the way (surprise!). That should be it as both of our sons have gone under “the knife” to prevent any more surprises (we should have eight grandchildren by the end of the year). I lost my dad and my uncle Jim a couple years ago. We've braved the pandemic, though both Wendy and contracted Covid, Enduring the lockdowns and their side effects was much more tougher than the disease itself.