38,000 miles

 The GLI turned 38,000 miles today!

Strangely for me, I caught the milestone entirely by happenstance.  I was taking Madeline and Enzo to Prairie Winds Farm on my way to teach.  We'd just gotten off of 31 south, had snaked underneath 31 heading east on Kern Road, and had just turned south onto old 31 (931, Michigan Street) when I happened to glance at the dashboard.  38,000 miles had already rolled, so I quickly grabbed my phone to take the shot.

I'm trying to figure out why I wasn't more in tune with the mileage.  I think it was a combination of factors.  First, I was super low on gas and was doing the mental math to figure out if I could drop them at the farm, go to work, and make it to Costco without putting in a splash.  Secondly, I wanted to make sure the kids were on time.  Enzo was attending camp while Madeline was working.  Third, I suppose I was thinking a bit about the class I was going to deliver.

Either way, I'm glad I glanced down at the right moment and took the shot.  It was a drizzly, gray morning.  It was a delightful reprieve from the intense heat of the past couple of weeks.

As a footnote, I did make it to Costco.  I rolled in with 0 miles of estimated range remaining.  When I filled up the tank, it took an indicated 11.955 gallons.  The GLI has a 13.2 gallon tank, so it's good to know that even when the estimated range reads 0, there's about a gallon of cushion.  Conservatively, that's another 20 miles.  Good to know.

The only thing that matters

 Now for something completely different.  We've been taking care of my mom and father-in-law for a while.  We had both of them in our home until we could no longer support their needs.  For my father-in-law, the catastrophic event that resulted in moving him to a care facility was a stroke.  He went from walking the dogs with us on a Sunday to having a stroke Monday night/Tuesday morning.  Allison called me at work because she was unable to pick him up off the floor.

So began a week of intensive care.  We picked him up, changed him, bathed him, fed him, transferred him in a wheelchair, and generally took care of him.  As we were doing that work, it occurred to me that we were doing the same things taking care of him that we did when our kids were infants.  The infants and the stricken require the same thing - basic care and lots of love.

We were putting him to bed one evening and needed to slide him towards the head of the bed so he had enough space to lie down.  We could tell he was agitated and nervous.  He kept holding his head up instead of relaxing into the pillow.  I supported his head and rubbed his forehead and told him, "It's OK, you can relax, we've got you."

Now, historically, Warren isn't a super emotional guy.  He's more the quiet jokster type.  Anyway, once we got him to relax, I said, "OK Warren, you can relax and rest and go to sleep.  I love you."  Expecting no response, he shook me by turning his head, looking deep into my soul, and saying, "I love you too."

At that moment everything just snapped into focus.  The only thing that matters at the end of life is the same thing that matters at the beginning of life - love.  That's all there is.  And I'd argue that it's the only thing that matters throughout our lives.  It's just that we're human, and we get distracted by ego and desire and ambition and whimsy and passion and rage and all of the wonderful things that make us human.

I think we'd do well to keep love a little more front and center throughout.  I think we'd all be in a better place.