It’s been an interesting week
I’m not referring to the international travail over wars in Israel and the Ukraine; Donald Trump’s judicial setbacks and looming court dates; nor Davenport’s thrashing about in a swirl of lawsuits and public chastisements.
Those hot topics were put aside as I began the week making preparations for a late April operation. At my age, it’s something to be taken seriously. But even that personal concern was blown away midweek when my children blew in for some off-center birthday celebrations.
It is characteristic of my family to ignore calendric details. Birthdays, in particular, are seldom observed on the actual date, but within a rather elastic time frame that includes it (often, just barely). So it was that all five flew into the Quad Cities on Wednesday for a dinner honoring four birthdays, past and future.
People are also reading…
Caecilia’s husband Rob and I share the recently passed March 16th birthday; son Stephen’s nativity shares an approaching April 23rd date with William Shakespeare (who was unable to attend).
They came from far corners of the nation: Teri from Anchorage; Chris from the Tacoma region; Cece and Rob from a Denver suburb; Steve from South Daytona; David from next door.
The dinner was quickly dispatched, then we settled in for two days of competing and interlocking stories. It was a typical Wootenanny, a time for catching up, reminiscence and raucous laughter. I joined in, but mostly sat and listened, rather as my own father did when his children gathered around the living room piano each evening to sing or chatter.
It seemed odd to think of these five Medicare-enrolled retirees, with a median age near 70, as my children, but there they were: larger and older now, but still the lively, enthusiastic kids who used to prank about from attic to basement, play in the yard, and range all over the neighborhood. The large, silent house once again filled with the happy noise I often recall.
Missing from the scene was the glue that held the family together. Bernadette died after a long, painful decline on Candlemas (Feb. 2nd) 2011. The kids were in attendance then and again, a year later, when we buried her ashes under her favorite lilac bushes.
Six years later, they gathered shortly after what would have been her 98th birthday, an occasion marked in memory by a rare October Mississippi River flood. Another six-year interval, and here they are again, deepened in knowledge and experience, but still possessing the same lively curiosity and quick-thinking minds, brightened by an irrepressible sense of humor. How did I get so lucky as to have such likeable and successful children?
The answer is under the lilacs. From birth till the time they left home to start their own lives, they were the sole charge and care of their mother. In truth, I had surprisingly little contact with them.
Working afternoons and evenings in television, I seldom even saw them. When I got home from work, Monday through Friday, after 11 p.m., everyone was asleep. After retiring around 2 a.m., I awoke at 9 in the morning, by which time they had left for school. This meant I was never home when most needed, the period after classes were out till bedtime. Ladies, think twice before taking up with men working in TV.
I did penance for my absence on weekends. Saturdays were spent cleaning and dusting the whole house, handling repairs, playing with the kids till dinner, then building a fire in the living room so that the youngsters could lounge after their baths before bedtime. Sundays, I got the family to church, then was available until heading to the station for “At Issue,” a late-night talk show. As time went on, I would bring the older ones with me to answer telephones.
Given my limited contact with them, I can always claim “It’s not my fault,” if they should take up criminal activity, such as dealing in drugs or high finance. On the other hand, neither can I take credit for their behavior as responsible and able citizens. During those critical, formative years, I was available only on a television set. Later, in state politics, I wasn’t even in town much of the week.
Still, I am pleased to claim kin to such delightful and amiable adults. I have no idea where Chris’s incredible artistic ability came from; her very first drawing, winning an Arts Fair award, continuing on with amazing success in a variety of media; Teri’s exquisite touch as physical therapist devoted to small children, especially when working among Alaska’s native population; Cece channeling and deepening her mother’s skill in dealing with children, raising her own three as separate, talented individuals.
Steve mastered a variety of skills, some simultaneously, settling on landscaping before becoming a popular clinician and teacher at Palmer’s South Daytona college. David opted for archival work and his professor directed him to apply for a position with Illinois. I forbade him to do so, fearing people would think it political nepotism. After he narrowly avoided a serious accident on a river construction project, his mother laced into me, and I withdrew my objection. It was only years later that his boss asked if he were related to this Senator Wooten. For over 40 years, he was the go-to expert in local records management.
So, home they came this week, and I was glad to see them together again, taking pride in being related to Bernadette’s remarkable children.
Don Wooten is a former Illinois state senator and a regular columnist. Email him at: donwooten4115@gmail.com.