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Return to Adventures |
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I put 750 miles on the Mazda this weekend. I finally went home to Wiscons-insane to reconnect with the extended family I hadn’t seen since the previous Christmas. My brother was home from Hawaii with his wife and new baby. I’ve loved him since the first day I met him in 1976, you might say that he was my laboratory experiment in child rearing --- now he’s 21. I remain a loving sister & kindred soul. I felt sheepish all the way there --- having pulled a disappearing act for the past 7 months. I anticipated tongue lashes and admonishment only to walk into hugs and astonishment. Some of that good old unconditional love – amazing and it had a CPR effect on my soul. |
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The goddess wants a baby sister after hanging with Cassie. Her other request this weekend was for crayons out on a deserted highway surrounded by cows and not much more. She waved her coloring book in my face as we sped East on Highway 29\ , “Mom, I forgot to pack crayons and I really need some --- do we have any crayons??” As if I could magically produce them out of thin air. I gave her a stock “Are you nuts?” look and then said, “Oh… crayons… just a second I think I have a pack of 30 shoved up my ass.” She blew her Gatorade out of her nose when I said that. I’m a shocking mother but at least I crack her up sometimes. Of course we stopped at the Wal-Mart 40 miles down the road and purchased a 96-count billionth anniversary commemorative box of Technicolor wax and a Beck tape. Esoteric mama on the highway, I’m where its at --- two turntables and a microphone up my ass. |
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The goddess ran around the neighborhood until well after dark --- just like I used to do as a child. They still leave the doors unlocked and the keys in the ignition at night in Kewaunee. It’s a time warp of fit and healthy elderly women, wearing support hose and discussing their gardens across the fence over a dusk chorus of lawnmowers and children playing tag. FM radio is tuned to the Polka station --- apparently the cows let down better with a good polka rolling across the barn vs. rock and roll. I feel safe there --- maybe someday I’ll be a rugged old lady along some fence in Kewaunee, swatting at mosquitoes and coveting my neighbor’s rhubarb. |
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I like the unapologetic and matter of fact pull of this small town. It’s as if the houses and buildings lean down the hill craning to hear what the lake is grumbling about. The foghorn blows a consistent monotone and people wave and smile at me from the shop windows I along the 3 blocks of main street. |
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The goddess and I swung on an ancient and creaking swing set and I told her how I learned as a child to train my eyes to stop short of the beach and focus entirely on the lake --- it makes my stomach flutter and I feel as if I’m swinging out over the water. Lake Michigan is as vast as any ocean or sea. On this night it was unusually calm and shimmering from blue to gray and back to blue. The moon was nearly full and hung like a fat luminous pearl against a twilight lavender haze --- I remarked that it looked to be the exact opposite of a sunset. The colors around us seemed to pop in the final minutes before the street lights came on. The moon began to drop light on the water that reached past the shore and illuminated the sienna cliffs that surround the play area like a fortress. I told the goddess, “Another day ends in Wisconsin, welcome to my watercolor.” I overheard her plagiarize my words the next night at a barbeque --- I was so flattered! |
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Road trips offer the best opportunity to turn the goddess on to music, more specifically Ruth Brown and Etta, yet she always seems to prefer Aretha --- maybe its because I dance the Dudley Do Right puppet along the dash as Aretha commands us to “Think!” The goddess said “Mom, play that Urethra song again!” I gasp and giggle and say, “A-REEETHA, the lady’s name is ARETHA!” |
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Johnny, my Dad is buried just off County Road G in DePere. It’s a 1 mile detour from my route to and from Kewaunee. I stopped at the cemetery twice during the trip --- upon my arrival and then upon my return to Minneapolis. I wasn’t as frantic or manic like that very first visit last winter where I dropped to my knees in the dark and dug his stone out the snow. On the first stop, I didn’t even realize I was crying until I stopped the car and pulled the keys out of the ignition. The goddess sniffled and said “Please mama, wipe your face.” When we made our second stop on the way back to Minneapolis, the goddess looked alarmed as we pulled up. I checked the mirror, no tears on my face and I looked at her quizzically as if to say “Now what?” She reminded me that we forgotten the flowers we had meant to buy for Poppa’s grave. I asked her if she’d rather build a last-minute grave site love mojo with what we could find in the car. She readily agreed and we scoured the car and came up with a huge fuchsia feather, a Ziploc bag and the post card of Carmen Miranda on my visor. We weather proofed Carmen with the Ziploc bag and harpooned it to the ground beside his stone with the fuchsia feather. I smiled and the goddess held my hand and squeezed it as we stood back for a second before we turned and headed back to the car, still hand in hand. Johnny probably liked this more than a pot of marigolds --- he’s the type to appreciate imaginative initiative. |
