Très Riches Heures of the Family Olivetti

For the last 8 years or so we have been empty nesters with our offspring taking up residence 400 miles distant. We would end up getting together with one or both daughters three, maybe four times in a good year, for a few days, as their busy lives and our permitted. Once we had retired, this paucity of face-to-face contact began to seem more and more absurd, a void that couldn’t be filled by phone, email, Facebook, or Skype.

And then with the birth of our first grandchild, the need to establish ourselves as her grandparents added weight to the argument that the little family that is us be closer geographically and temporally. (I realize this last sentence is a more than a bit awkward, but you get the idea).

In my life I have had some strong images of the importance of family. As far back as I can remember, my mother would drive an hour and a half each week to spend the day with her parents. And when my granny got too old to live alone, she moved into a retirement home a few minutes drive away, and Mom would visit her every day without fail. While my father left his homeland as a refugee to come to the US, he spent every vacation he took without exception, back in Italy with family. [Now that I think of it, as I write this posting, Adella and her folks are visiting my Italian cousins, and hiking in the same mountains my Dad did as a young man.]

We have been here about 6 weeks now, and have been together a number of times, both at our home and theirs. We have celebrated two birthdays, tended to Adella’s needs while her folks worked, hung out on the beach with Jolie on her day off, loaned a car in support of a trip to the Newport Folk Festival, and had a three generation hike on Mount Monadnock. Here are a couple of photos from that wonderful hike. Truly very rich hours spent with family.