Descending on the household moments before it became splendid, the mom and dad arrived hours earlier than expected Friday. The drive from their home to ours runs about 750 miles. They arrived early the last time they drove here too, but I expected two oldsters approaching their eighties to slow down a bit to smell the Geritol. But noooo, they stopped within two hours of our home Thursday night after a ten hour drive, slept in Friday morning, ate a leisurely breakfast, burned some rubber and arrived here shortly after 11 AM, before the detritus of the previous evening and present morning (okay, there was some leftover from Christmas too) had been cleared away. I am pleased that I might have inherited and passed on the longevity that allows them to remain active and independent. And I'm pleased to believe that they didn't mind the household disarray as much as some other member of the household did.

We exchanged greetings, hugs and some catch-up conversation over a lunch made from the honey-baked ham they brought with them from Houston. At lunch they reviewed their plans to visit Prague and Budapest for a few weeks in early June. Mom adjourned to the living room couch for a nap after lunch, while I initiated Dad into the wiles of the Internet. Although he uses an Excel spreadsheet of his own design to track his investments, he has yet to take the plunge into the WWW. Apparently the time they spend with my sister and brother-in-law in Houston (who are very connected webwise) is spent in their own unconnected home where their only local grandchild (age four) can marvel at the technology of a rotary dial phone that remains in use in their bedroom. Dad and I spent the afternoon surfing investment, travel and news sites, stopping often so that I could explain that there were no direct costs to anything we had done other than the dedicated phone line and ISP expense.

Shortly after 4 PM I ran off to the Fri/Sat class leaving the grandparents at the mercy of their grandkids. Dad, Owen and Taylor all decided to forego the journey to the regional track meet in Emporia where Josh would compete in the two-mile race. Owen eventually departed for his maternal grandmother's house where his hopes of being taken to see the movie "Gladiator" by his uncle might be realized (they were). Dad and Taylor stayed at our house taking turns on the computer and playing several games of chess, generally enjoying their shared geekiness.

Saturday morning, as soon as my students finished their final exams, I raced from the classroom so that I could arrive at McCain Auditorium on the KSU campus in time to see Taylor perform in his first violin recital. T's composure before an audience always amazes me. I'm sure no artiste has ever rendered "Tom Dooley" more movingly than he did, and I'm sure that his grandparents agreed.

In the afternoon, I ran the boys over to the grandparents' motel, where they could take advantage of the indoor pool. Although we have the space for them, my parents prefer to stay at the local Holidome, where for at least part of the day they can enjoy some privacy from us. I suspect that the fact that we don't have a television on the first floor of the house also contributes to their choice to stay in a motel when they visit here. Although they have had an active retirement, they are television junkies. They are too polite to use the words "don't call when 'Jeopardy' is on," at least with their children; however, I have heard them utter similar words after a call from someone unaware of their rigid TV-viewing schedule.

Saturday night we had the combined families and Josh's girlfriend over to a typical artery-clogging, Midwestern dinner of barbecued brisket, tater salad, whipped-cream cole slaw, baked beans, garlic bread, melons and strawberries. For dessert we ate some killer homemade vanilla ice cream that must have contained every form of butterfat known to man and Krogers -- the kind of ice cream that is so deadly sweet that only a quart of skim milk will chase away its sugary sting.

Sunday was graduation day, but I'll save that for another time.

Bees bumble in the pink spirea out front but refuse to hold still for a photo.