As most of you know, my grandparents live in Germany and are tougher than nails. Heck, they're even tougher than finding an opaque purple seed bead that doesn't look horrid! On Friday, I called them to see how things are going and got the following update from my aunt.
Opa (my grandfather, age 90-1/2) recently went to have his driver's license renewed. Opa has had "several" incidents over the past year or so, and we were all concerned that he'd renew the license and keep driving. Until now, it hasn't been so bad, because my grandparents' village is mostly fields and when Opa drives off the road, whatever kindly farmer sees him will pull him out of the field and back onto the road. After all, my Opa was probably a good friend of the farmer's grandparents - or even great-grandparents!
My cousin the judge pulled some strings to make sure that the German DMV knew that Opa really shouldn't be driving, and asked them to find an honorable way to avoid renewing the license. So Opa, after driving more than 70 years, had to cancel his driver's license because he could not pass the eye test. He took it with remarkable aplomb, and we all breathed a sigh of relief.
But not for long. Opa decided that since he could no longer drive his car, he would obtain another mode of transportation. He found a used bicycle somewhere, spent a week in his toolshed fixing it up, and now rides the bike around town. (Well, "town" is stretching it a bit - the place has one main street that's about two city blocks long. That's it, except for farms)
Every afternoon, after his daily nap, Opa rides his bike to a nearby pub. He plays cards with the other old timers in there, and has his one beer. If things run a little late, and it gets dark, my Tante Lia has to take her bike to the pub and go fetch Opa. Otherwise, he takes his own bad self back and forth.
And right now, he's biking in the snow. My relatives live in the mountains of Bavaria, and winter is not a sissy thing. Fortunately, my grandfather is even tougher than the mountains. After all, what's a little bike ride to a man who still fells his own lumber, and chops up the trees for firewood?
I feel like such a marshmallow. But I'm proud of my Opa all the same - nothing gets him down.
Kathy N-V
P.S.: In case you might be wondering: Oma is improving, albeit slowly. The winters are tough on her, so her doctor made my grandparents stop relying on wood to heat their house, and they installed central heating. With hot running water! And a Shower!!! This is huge - if you've spent as much time there as I have, lighting a fire in the bathroom water heater, then shivering as the tepid water hits your bod in a freezing, unheated bathroom (with a window open for "healthy air," of course), you'd be dancing for joy that my grandparents home is getting some modern conveniences.
Oma hates the electric heat, but admits it's very clean and it's a lot easier for her to breathe. My uncle has the power bill sent directly to his house, and pays it, because Oma and Opa would go right back to heating with wood if they ever saw what a heat bill cost.