A Daughter’s Homecoming Brings Sunshine to Switzerland

My Frenchman and I stand at the Geneva airport, gazing through the glass windows at the crowd milling around the luggage carousel. Our daughter, towering above the Europeans, slings a duffel over her shoulder and strides through customs with a tired grin, dropping her bag to hug her dad.

Baby Nat with grandparents

How many miles must one travel to connect generations between separate continents? Nearly three decades ago, I cradled my Franco-American newborn in my arms during a 4,000 mile journey, 500 mph, 30,000 feet over the Atlantic. What was I thinking? My anxiety melted the moment I stepped through customs at O’Hare airport and witnessed her grandparents’ joy. For the next 5 summers until cousins were born the McKinzie’s first grandchild was spoiled like an only child by her aunts and uncle.

happy little girl on the beach

How many road trips were made to Trouville in a pilgrimage to

Trouville in the spring

Normandy and the other side of her heritage? In the thousand year old village on the English Channel, time stood still, frozen in the spindly, brick, 5-story fisherman flats lining the cobblestone quays. Here, Mamie and Papie raised their first grandchild on fish and fresh crème, the finest offering of France’s dairyland where sea and soil marinate to perfection.

Years after our first trans-Atlantic flight, my daughter landed back in Europe. Sunshine blinked through clouds in Switzerland for the first time in weeks, as old man winter finally lifted his heavy, gray veil. As we walked and talked, my footsteps felt lighter, as we wined and dined, the strawberries tasted sweeter, hinting at spring.

In a reversal of roles, now my daughter tucks me in at night. Sprawled under my duvet, we reminisce about her childhood where we weathered the storms of relocations and separations as we traveled to distance lands in our imagination on a 4-poster bed in make-believe. Today, we discussed books and babies (she is a pediatrician) and child development and teaching, language acquisition and writing.

Then in a blink we are back at the Geneva airport waving goodbye choking back tears, our hearts heavy. Our daughter flies home to her children’s hospitals in the Twin Cities, where she answers her pager at all hours. She cares for infants, speaking French to West African immigrants and conducts wellness visits for Spanish families. She reassures frightened foreigners, breaks down medical jargon into layman’s terms and magically calms fussy toddlers.

“She is so far away! Don’t you miss her?” my friends here ask. Others wonder, “How could you let her go?”

Ah, but just as my mom taught me, I know that “a child is a gift on loan from God.” Our daughter belongs to the world. She is where she is supposed to be, doing what she was destined to do.

We are together,
My child and I,
Mother and child, yes,
But sisters really
Against whatever denies
Us all that we are.
Alice Walker

Over the years, watching her grow strong, we invested thousands of dollars in education and traveled hundreds of thousands of miles, thousands of meters above sea level from Switzerland to Minnesota. The precocious little girl who grew up loving water settled in the Land of 10,000 Lakes where the trees grow tall and the skies are blue.

Can you put a price tag on family ties?

Ain’t no mountain high enough, ain’t no river wide enough to keep me from lovin’ you.

No matter how great the distance, can you ever truly sever the cord connecting a mother to her child?

Tall American Squeezes into Small Country

Whenever I step aboard the return flight to Switzerland, I feel like Alice in Wonderland falling through the hole into the land of miniature. I have an 8-hour flight to transition to what awaits on the other side of the Atlantic. I squeeze my 5’10” frame into compact seats designed for dwarfs. I eat baby-sized servings with doll-sized spoons on a mini tray.

In the Geneva airport, I tower above Europeans while lugging baggage twice as big as and three times heavier than theirs. Not all expats are hoarders, but like many of my compatriots living overseas, I bring back as much of the homeland as possible, hence my bags are laden with Tootsie Pops, cake mixes, chocolate chips and other American staples.

When the taxi pulls up in front of our twin house, my husband leans out the window to announce, “Oops, honey, I shrunk the house.”

Switzerland is a “petite” country; the price of real estate is premium. There are no sprawling ranch homes or suburban mansions here. Our yard is the size of a postage stamp. Surface wise our ground floor is no bigger than an American garage. But we are lucky we have four floors stacked like baby’s colored building blocks. It’s great! This way I don’t need a gym membership; my home is a StairMaster.

kitchen

Our kitchen is three-square meters. The refrigerator is smaller than the mini bars in most American hotels. The fridge, stove, and sink are within an arm’s length, so I can remove foodstuff, sauté veggies and wash dishes simultaneously. But I rarely do any one of the three. It is a one-butt kitchen, and I am always the first volunteer to butt out.

Europe has a different scale of measurement and I am not talking metric here. Cupboards are more like the size of American drawers. Walk in closets? Forget it. My sister’s Barbie wardrobe was bigger. Appliances are also more compact. Our microwave fits in a kitchen cupboard. The washing machine holds five articles of clothing or the equivalent of two American sweatshirts.Read more→

A Dozen Tips to Endure Back Pain

I am up before dawn to see my chiropractor for the early bird special. With a 7 a.m. appointment, there is no wait; we beat the city traffic, and best of all Le Frenchman can chauffeur me there. For as long as I can remember I have suffered from chronic back pain. The decline began in college when a Big Mama landed on my back on a rebound in a basketball game. After that I walked so crooked that my college roomies tilted the pictures in our apartment to make me feel better. I have tried every treatment that exists, except surgery, and have become resigned to the fact that, okay, my back hurts, but life goes on.

Take one spine; add two herniated lumbar disks, three compressed dorsal vertebrae, four whiplashes and five concussions, and what do you get? One heck of a backache! My bod has undergone a lifetime of trauma. Bad back is an understatement. Yet if you look at me, you’d never know, because I keep on keeping on.

Here is how I cope with a full-time job, cross Atlantic travel and a semi active life.

laying down in Central Park, 1980s

Take mini breaks. I have a yoga mat in my office at school; I lay down and stretch in the middle of the day.
Wear tennis shoes with orthopedic soles. If your feet are imbalanced, your spine will misalign. Heels are a big no-no !
Use both sides of the body equally especially when lifting.
Invest in a good recliner and firm mattress to sleep on and a great pillow.
Alternate heat and cold. Sometimes only an anti inflammatory medicine can help the healing process begin as the muscles will become inflamed to protect the injured area.
Find a good chiropractor!
Try a combination of alternative medicine – physical therapy, massage, relaxation and meditation techniques.
Maintain mobility by staying fit – sometimes it is too painful to sit, but usually I can walk without too much discomfort.
If you have acute pain, limit riding in a car. If you do have to travel, stop, get out, and stretch every half hour.
If it hurts to sit, stand, or walk–then crawl. My Swiss chiropractor recommends getting down on « quatre pattes » as the crawling movement is natural before we became upright, back breaking bipeds.
Swim – there is no pressure on the joints and the water soothes the soul.
Find a good partner even if it means going halfway across the world.
… and above Mürren, Switzerland, 2012

When I get discouraged from the pain, I try to focus on someone else’s troubles. There is always a student, a colleague or a friend that is facing challenges far greater than a bad back. Anyway, I won’t be upright forever in my next life, I’ll be a fish.

Twelve Tips for Air Travel in the 21st Century

Sometimes, when when there are no glitches, Air Travel rocks. But most of the time, it has become a nightmare. Make the best out of it with a few tips:

1. Never trust what the airline say.

2. When airline staff say« No problem » it really means « Don’t KNOW the problem. »

3. Fly at times when no one else wants to, for example Christmas Day, New Year’s Eve, Easter Sunday.

4. Carry aboard prescription medicines for the duration of the trip vacation and a written explanation of one’s medical condition.

5. Pack snacks such as nuts, dried fruits, and cereal bars. Airlines may charge $3 for a small package of M & Ms or chips.

6. A small empty water bottle passes through security controls and can be refilled as needed.

7. Nowhere is Murphy’s Law (Sod’s Law in the UK) more prevalent than in air travel « accept that what can go wrong, will go worse than you would dream ».

8. Limit carry on baggage as courtesy to fellow passengers, so they won’t have to stow their luggage ten rows away from their assignments seats.

9. An electronic seat assignment does not guarantee a boarding pass, and a frequent flyer membership these days is nothing more than another plastic card in your pocket.

10. Wear comfortable, layered clothes, which make it easy to disrobe at security and to accommodate fluctuating temperature in the aircraft.

11. Forget cost cutting, book the direct flight whenever possible. In the end, it costs less than additional taxi fares, meals and hotel rooms when you miss your connecting flight.

12. Acknowledge that the skies are no longer friendly. Airline companies, even code sharing partners, are at war and passengers are in the line of fire. Accept what you are : at the best a user and very rarely a customer.

Eventually, get rich and fly First, it might do the trick…May be.

Self-Service Airlines Increase Frequent Flyers’ Frustrations

The worst part of flying somewhere, is knowing you have to also return from your destination. The round trip ticket is no guarantee you’ll get back home, especially when it comes to international travel.

I flew across the Atlantic countless times with my fussy French kids, so that they could stay connected to their American heritage. Imagine Nathalie’s surprise when our roles reversed at the Minneapolis airport. Grown daughter consoles infantile mother throwing tantrum at the Delta ticket counter, « Ma’am, I cannot issue your boarding pass when you have no ticket. ».

Like millions of passengers, we were stranded in Geneva due to snow storms, when our KLM flight to Minneapolis was canceled. Days later we were rerouted on Continental. However, at the time of departure, Continental personnel in Switzerland said, « Madame may board the plane ; Monsieur may not. »

In the catch 22 of 21st century air travel, you may be assigned a seat electronically without a ticket. The same scenario occurred in reverse. Gerald flew home without incident, but a week later my return ticket disappeared in cyberspace.

Stress begins with on -line ticket purchase, which is subject to change in availability and price during the millisecond from booking to buying. Seat reservations may be made 24 hours ahead, but there is a hitch. Tickets purchased on a European carrier cannot be processed by an American one, even when it’s the same flight. The KLM website tells you to confirm with Delta ; Delta site sends you back to KLM. Welcome to the pass-the-buck-diplomacy of airline travel. Due to economic hard times, companies such as Delta, KLM, Air France formed a partnership ; however, they still act like rivals.

Inclement weather, personnel strikes, terrorist threats, mechanical errors, flight delays are the norm ; what is not normal is blaming the passenger. Airline staff reprimanded me every step of my journey. The first KLM agent yelled at me for not using the check-in machine to print my boarding pass.

« YOUR machine is unable to recognize MY booking code. »

After staring at the computer for ten minutes, she says, « You’re on the flight to Amsterdam, but I have no record of a ticket of to Geneva. Check at the Delta/KLM/Air France ticket purchasing desk. »

There, another Delta employee, read a novel while waiting on hold on the phone to solve the mystery. « Delta has no record your ticket either . Ma’am, what have you done ? »

Me ? Blame the snow, late incoming arrival, maintenance difficulties, but don’t hold the passenger responsible for airline snafus.

« I suggest you fly to Amsterdam and sort it out there . »

You must be kidding me !

I suggest, « You check again ! »

Finally, she confirmed my status through Air France. However, she insisted she couldn’t print out a boarding pass for my onward flight. I insisted she could. « I’ve flown hundreds of times and always been issued a boarding pass for the connecting flight !»

Finally with two scraps of paper stating my name, seat number and departure time, I boarded the KLM/Delta flight to Geneva. The flight was delayed an hour due to mechanical difficulties. Halfway over the Atlantic, the captain announced, « Great news, folks. Even with our late departure, though scheduled arrival was 6 :45, due to strong cross winds we should touch down at 7 :02. With our taxi time, we should be at the arrival gate at 7 :21. My connecting flight had me on plane boarding for Geneva fifteen minutes before my scheduled arrival time. Even without the delay, I would never make the connection. So in Amsterdam, once again, I was invited to the tranfer desk for rebooking. There, a sky-blue uniformed KLM agent blocked the guichet entrance and barked like a drill sergeant.

« Use the machine ! »

« Your machine reserved me a seat on flight without a ticket, and booked me on a connecting flight before my first flight was scheduled to land. I want to speak to a human being. »

She waved me past, snarling, « Lady, this is a self-service airline ! »

« Yeah, well your self-service sucks ! »

Sadly, the only satisfaction of flying these days is throwing the last punch.

Staying Connected at Christmas Always Worth the Trip

My sibling and I live 5,000 miles apart, away from our childhood home, yet in spite of the distance we remain close. It helped that we were a family born on wheels. In the sixties, at time when most people wouldn’t take four kids five years apart any further than the corner grocery store, my grandparents and parents loaded the station wagon with, nine bags, eight bodies and one big red ice chest and hit the road. Like the Beverly Hillbillies, we cruised the blue highways from sea to shining seas in our beat up old Rambler.

We grew up believing life was an endless road trip. Consequently we continue to spend an inordinate amount of time in our adult lives riding the rail, flying the sky, and pounding the pavement to remain connected.

Just last week over a span of 24 hours, my youngest sister, Karen, drove to my son’s college game in Minnesota, one evening, and dropped our daughter, Nathalie, off at the Minneapolis airport at 6 am the next morning. Then she drove 7 hours to Sterling to support my mom and middle sister, Sue, as my dad recovered from delicate hip reconstruction surgery in Sterling Rock Falls Hospital. Meanwhile my older brother, Doug, and sister in law, Julianne, picked up Nat at the airport in Cleveland and chauffeured her to her residency interview at Rainbow Baby and Children’s Hospital.

In the meantime, Rush Memorial called her for an interview, so my brother-in-law, Cliff in the Chicago suburbs, helped change her ticket and arranged her pick her up 0’Hare Airport. He will drive her to her appointment at Rush; she’ll take the train from there back to the airport to fly to Utah for another interview.

On December 17th, Gerald and I were supposed to fly from Geneva via Amsterdam to Minneapolis. Our son will pick us up in the car he borrows regularly from my brother-in-law Dick. Then after Nathalie arrives from Utah, we will drive back down to Sterling, via our cabin at Summit Lake, to celebrate my dad’s successful surgery.

“And that my dear,” Aunt Mary used to say, “is love in action.”

One wonders what do people do without family?

Every winter, the McKinzie clan will log miles in the air and on land, braving blizzards, airline strikes and flight delays because Christmas happens whenever, wherever and however we can get together.

Be sure to rejoice in the gift of family especially this holiday season. Safe travels to you wherever you gather. May your wheels keep spinning for another year.