Thanksgiving Chronicle: Ordinary Times and Travel post 5

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In these days of cities and all their attractions, a pastime of young and old alike seems to be exploring. That is one of our family traditions. Whenever we gather, we try to look around us and visit some interesting place. On the Friday after Thanksgiving we bundled up (brrr….), piled into two cars and went to Port Huron, MI.

Our first stop was a museum of sorts but more. I can’t remember the name of it but the words “boat nerds” was somewhere on the building. It was on the St. Clair River which connects Lake Huron to Lake St. Clair and the port in Detroit. There is a lot of ship traffic past this place which boasts a coffee shop, an unobstructed view of the river, and knowledgeable people who call themselves, yes, boat nerds. They call out all kinds of interesting information and stories about each ship as it passes. On display are ship artifacts dredged from the river and made into art.  It was a “hangout” with a very relaxed atmosphere and quite a bit of business, considering that it was a holiday weekend. We had a good time with this place. We have a few family coffee snobs. We didn’t even try their coffee.

We all tried it on…
even Grandma

Next we went a few streets away to a small shopping district and wandered through some small, artisan-like shops. It was some kind of “small business shopping day” and they got real excited when our group of 10 people came in and probably kind of disappointed when we wandered back out. There were a few purchases, though.

By this time we were getting hungry. Our hosts led us to the Raven Café, a Poe themed coffee house and restaurant that was bursting at the seams with customers. All of us liked the food we ordered. I had a creamy latte, followed by Mushroom with Brie Soup and a half Annabel Lee’s Gorgonzola Cherry salad.  It was hard to choose from all the interesting names like “Premature Burial Bacon-Ham Melt” and “Black Cat BLT”. This is definitely a place diners return to. They have a gift shop and live entertainment events regularly, and a nice FaceBook page. Check them out at www.ravencafeph.com .  Go there.

Another one of our family traditions, no secret by now, is doing jigsaw puzzles. Some of us are more avid puzzlers than others but we all kind of like to have one going on. Somehow we had brought only one puzzle with us and we finished it on Thanksgiving Day. Cheap puzzles abound at thrift shops and libraries so we were on the lookout as we traveled back to Gary’s coffee shop. We ended up at a thrift/antique shop and it was a long shot, but they had a puzzle. Just one. It was antique, and although I’ve had some very old puzzles (think pieces missing, chewed on, etc…) I had never had a real antique so I bought it, more for the container than the picture.  Can you imagine it new for $0.49? It was our second of the season (#puzzlemarathon).

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There were many other things we enjoyed over our family time together – I couldn’t begin to mention them all. Many laughs, meals, conversations, hugs and then the inevitable goodbyes. But travel on Thanksgiving Saturday is coming up fast. The journey is definitely not over…

Thanksgiving Chronicle: Ordinary Times and Travels post 4

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Here we were on Thanksgiving Day, in Michigan, preparing to gather at the coffee house and cook our festive meal. Since the plan was to see if we could snack/taste/eat pretty much all day, breakfast was out on the bar when we arrived. Hmmm, coffee was no problem since the place was still basically a coffee house. While some of us talked and lost track of time, others of us got busy in the kitchen fixing up the next round of food.

This was the BIG meal, the one with the turkey. My brother, the host, claimed the job of cooking the bird. He has done it several times and has gotten good at it. None of us gave the turkey another thought. I made a gorgeous veggie tray with several dip choices, just so none of us would have to stop eating between meals. Julie was busy putting together her signature salad, glazing pecans to toss with the lettuce and mandarin orange. Somehow, we all got a bit distracted when the spatula she was using began to melt (who knew?) and glaze the pecans with plastic along with sugar. Pick the plastic out? Start over? Waste all those lovely nuts?

At this point, there were a lot more people in the kitchen because it was nearing our appointed meal time. It kind of sneaked up on us and there was a “hurry up” atmosphere. Ryan was suddenly on to his mashed potato job (Aside: Did you know adding a sweet potato in with the white ones make an interesting contribution? #newtome). Jamie was finishing up her pilaf. Esther was roasting her brussels sprouts.  Jon was getting his tofurkey warmed up. The cold dishes (cranberry salad and others) were being taken out to the line-up on the bar. Gary had finished the turkey and he and Bob were carving. Richard was getting his Thanksgiving song ready to play for our blessing on the meal.

wp-1481649557967.jpgWe were at the very last moment, when Mom asked if there was gravy. She had that big-eyed look that said it wouldn’t work as a meal if there wasn’t gravy for the mashed potatoes. She must have weathered crisis like this before because she had good ideas for making it – hunting up some turkey juice, some canned cream soup, and a few other things. We even found some odd fish shaped dishes that worked for serving it. We rocked it, really.

 

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It was a lovely meal. Unlike many who photograph their food before it’s eaten, I mostly wait until the plates are decimated to take pictures, so I can’t show you the “before” loveliness, but you can see that we did have a good lively time at the table. Such fun, and it only got better when it was time for pie and coffee. Plenty of good food and hours of good company gave us a lot to feel thankful for.

Celebrating for only one day, when people come from a long distance, would be a waste of travel expense. We also have other “near traditions” that are emerging in our family and they take at least one more day of celebrating to accomplish. The Friday after Thanksgiving (not Black Friday for us) will be in tomorrow’s post…

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Thanksgiving Chronicle: Ordinary Times and Travels, post 3

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It does not take a fancy hotel name or reputation to impress me. Nice linens, a decent breakfast and cleanliness are my major interests and we had all three at the Super 8 (the price was right too). The clincher was the sunrise they arranged for us. It brought the saying “red sky at morning, sailors take warning…” to mind so we left fairly early. Well fed and rested, we arrived at the coffee house, the site of our Thanksgiving, by noon.

We call it the coffee house because it was one, briefly. Had it been in a better location, and maybe a better time, it would have been a success. My brother still owns it, partly because he lives in the second story, and partly because it hasn’t sold. It is perfect for family gatherings. Perfect in the sense that the whole lower story is made for people having a good time – plenty of seating at tables, a long bar where we line up the Thanksgiving buffet, an industrial kitchen where we cook last day dishes, a cozy (fake) fireplace, and a TV mounted in a corner tuned to the local football station.

Of course, we were half a day early so we unloaded our food dishes into the fridge at the coffee house and went to settle in our lodgings. Here I must mention my niece and her family. They are house flippers, among other things. Conveniently, they had a house they were staging for sale even as we arrived and we got to “test” it out. Seriously, they are like Chip and Joanna, or Tarrek and Christina – they could have a TV show except for the financial backing part. This was the second lovely house of theirs that I had seen and we gladly moved into the three bedrooms ready for us. It was quite brave of my brother to offer to house all of us this year and we were grateful.

The other afternoon event was waiting for everyone else to arrive. I have two daughters and they were coming from opposite ends of the U.S., one from Jacksonville, Fl flying into Detroit, and one from Seattle flying to Flint with one of her good friends.  My nephew, who had arrived earlier from California, drove to Detroit for that pick-up and the others rented a car from Flint.  They trickled in, one group at a time, along with another one of my brothers (I have four) and his wife. By the afternoon, the promised storm had begun, the roads were slippery and we got word that a couple of our invited guests had felt it safer to cancel their trip.  Our Thanksgiving group was in place except for a local couple who would join us the next day.

Our eclectic group, aged from 2 to 84, seven boys/men and six women, Midwesterners, West coasters, East coasters, two different cultural backgrounds, meat eaters and vegetarians, all gathered to be thankful, make memories and eat. Having all arrived safely, we were already thankful.  The eating started that night with soups by Jamie, my niece, and salad. But, of course, the real eating event was yet to come…

Thanksgiving Chronicle: Ordinary Times and Travel post 2

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Up here in the north woods, we always have the weather to contend with when we travel.  The threat of rain turning to snow was scaring us to start our trip a day early. Mom was mentally planning this early departure yesterday when we rolled in from the Minneapolis airport. She had nearly finished her packing and had all the ingredients for the Thanksgiving meal that we had promised to provide, ready to be put together. I baked my pies right away.  We planned to pack up in the morning and stay ahead of the storm.

We were making the drive in Mom’s car, which I love to drive. Mom likes to sit in the back seat surrounded by travel food and her pillows and blankets. The husband sits/sleeps in the “death seat” in front, although I try not to think of it that way. We have become fairly comfortable travel companions; the husband talking (a LOT) and Mom listening and passing us sandwiches and celery sticks at regular intervals. I kind of zone out as I drive. My text messages pop up on the Bluetooth digital screen on the dash, which is a really nice feature of the car. It is a Chevy Captiva. I have trouble remembering the model name, but I’m working on associating it with the mental image of a small SUV strapped into the middle seat of an airplane. That should bring it to mind.

It was a beautiful day for our many hours of driving, with no snow, not even a drop of rain. We were on the road by 9 am after packing the car – always a fun challenge. Mom’s part was the hardest since she was trying to think of everything she would need for the next few months. She started weeks ago putting things aside. As we put it all in the back of Captiva, the only thing she couldn’t locate was her money. She knew she had put the bank envelope in some reasonable place, some safe place where it would be easy to find when it was time to go. So much for that. We all searched everyplace we could think of. But I am so proud of Mom. She is able to laugh and let it be all good. We left and the money was either with us in a place we hadn’t remembered yet, or still back in Hayward, to be found later we hoped.

We drove about 9 hours. We traveled east across Wisconsin and for the first three or four hours we encountered only two trucks which we passed. What a change from the places I usually drive. The two lane road was bordered by forest and marshes, pine trees and birch, lots of rivers, streams and lakes. The dominant color was soft gray in varying intensities, with brushes of deep green and brown. We traveled through Winter, Florence, Minquoa and Eagle River before crossing the border into the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, Escanaba and finally the Mackinac Bridge. We spent the night in the Super 8 in a town called Grayling, leaving only a short trip for the next day.

One of our last conversations driving down I-75 went like this;

The husband, as we were driving in the dark approaching an exit:  “The moon looks really strange tonight”. I looked for the moon in the direction the husband was pointing but what I saw in the sky above the tree line was a bright, round orb with a large M on it.

Me: “That’s a Marathon station at the exit. It’s not the moon, in spite of being marked with an M.”

Husband: “Oh, I thought it looked weird.” We were tired and it was only day 2.

 

Thanksgiving Chronicle: Ordinary Times and Travels

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wpid-20141015_0707500.jpgThe husband and I had been thinking and praying about this trip for weeks.  My family often tries to get together at Thanksgiving even though we are geographically scattered. Those of us from Florida have several times found ourselves “snowed in” up in Hayward for the holiday. Last year we combined the get together with Mom’s wish to spend the winter with us. We flew to Wisconsin, traveled in her car to Michigan to have Thanksgiving there with three of my brothers, and then continued on down to Florida. It worked, and we were trying it again this year, hoping it would work again.

Monday, I felt like a captive pretty much all day. I used to think that it was pretty cool getting to travel a lot – flying off to southeast Asia, to Seattle, to Wisconsin – but I am over that. Although I booked our flights weeks ahead of time there were no good seats to choose from. I sat in the window seat on the first leg. There was no chance of getting out over two other people, so I sat for that hour and a half, sleeping against the wall. The second leg was longer and I was in the middle seat, which to me is even more claustrophobic. With the space in front of my feet filled with a back pack, my knees touching the seat ahead of me, and a hefty passenger seated on either side of me, it was like being in a small box for three hours. The worst part of the trip was after the plane landed and everyone who could, stood up, filling the aisle. We waited for 15 minutes before anyone was actually able to leave. We were in the back, of course, and got to watch every person in every row struggle with their luggage. There was nothing to do but wait the eternity until was our turn. In my dreams I become rich and famous by designing a better de-planing procedure and selling it to airlines.

Tuesday, November 22, 2016 (very early): I sat up in bed looking at a clock that showed 5:45 and mentally calculated that it would be 6:45 in my usual time zone – no wonder I was awake. I failed to consider daylight savings time, and so had the person responsible for setting the clock in that room. It was 4:45, so I had some “think time” to consider how it was that I was thousands of miles from where I had been yesterday. I was, always am, properly amazed and thankful for safe travel. Wisconsin in winter is dark late in the morning, dark early in the evening, leaving very little daylight to save, but there was some, finally…

 

Moving Day

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Yes, it’s the day.   The family that has been with us in our house since the beginning of the month will get the key to their new home today. Except for the few days when the septic system backed up, it has gone seamlessly, and even that was taken in stride.

I have loved having someone to help with meals. Loved listening to the sounds of kids riding their bikes in the drive.  Loved the discussions around the table.  Loved watching a family of six function efficiently under unusual  and sometimes challenging circumstances.  Yesterday, after breakfast, I found a clean table and this little line up of bowls, left by the children on the kitchen counter. It typifies some of the disciplines in place that have made them easy house guests. The husband and I will miss them.

They are up early. Dad has started a new job and leaves by 7. Mom and the four children usually start school (at home) by 8, but today they are packing up and will have a different schedule. I will help with the move. Mom Amy and I are picking up a trailer, loading it from their storage locker and driving all their stuff down to the new house. I am mentally reviewing my rusty trailer backing skills. Actually, I’m thinking of all the ways I might be able to avoid backing up.

Whereas it might have seemed a little daunting – to have invited in a group three times larger than the house was used to – it felt right from the start. It’s another one of those common occurrences that I attribute to God’s leading. He is good at making provision in circumstances where we feel a little “out of control”.  His timing is excellent. How else does a family go from closing on a sale of their own house, moving to temporary quarters, house hunting and completing a purchase with a closing date in less than three weeks? How else was this experience so peaceful and agreeable to everyone? Yes, good work God.

It is an exciting day for them. Shiloh, the youngest gives me a hug and agrees it is exciting, “and sad” he adds. Exciting and sad. I think that describes a lot of life. Just sayin’…

Scallops and the Sea

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The Inner Life of Someone’s Mother – Tales from the Archives

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We moved from the north woods of Wisconsin to Florida – a shock actually. The realtor put us in an apartment on the beach while we looked for a home. It was late fall, early winter. Instead of tramping across wind-swept snow drifts the children and I were tramping across wind-swept white sand. The visible similarity was striking even while the contrast was unmistakable.  We went to the ocean nearly every day to wander, to marvel at our new surroundings and to look for shells.

Looking for shells on a beach full of shells is an art. I compare it to doing a jigsaw puzzle. You must school  your eyes to detect a certain shape, a certain color amidst countless shapes and colors. I didn’t want lots of shells since there was no challenge to that (and soon no place to put them all). I wanted to find one special shell each trip, a scallop as near perfect as possible, with maybe a bit of color. At least one. And soon it was a ritual and a way of entering into our new life.

It is thirty years later. I still look for scallops.

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I love everything about this – the words, the composition, the sentiment, the hand that penned it…  Poem by E.L.D.A.

 

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Grandma Gwen and J.J.D. at Siesta Beach

 

My Favorites

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Through the  years I have jotted down my favorite things to remember in journals and scraps of paper here and there (because I didn’t have a blog yet).  I found this one recently and marveled at how much I still like it. Even as hopeful people we have times that seem so bleak that we are overwhelmed by them. It helps me to realize the natural pessimism that lurks in all of us, acknowledge it and laugh it out of the room.

Kudos to Chuck Samuels who developed this series and made himself famous with it. Sorry I don’t have stunning photos to illustrate these truths.

The Demotivational Series – for when you don’t care anymore…

Futility – You’ll always miss 100% of the shots you don’t take and, statistically speaking, 99% of the shots  you do.

Losing – If at first  you don’t succeed, failure may be your style.

Ineptitude – If you can’t learn to do something well, learn to enjoy doing it poorly.

Mediocrity – It takes a lot less time and most people won’t notice the difference until it’s too late.

Pessimism – Every dark cloud has a silver lining. But lightning kills hundreds of people  each year who are trying to find it.

Procrastination – Hard work often pays off after time but laziness always pays off now.

Agony – Not all pain is gain.

Failure – When your best just isn’t good enough.

Stupidity – Quitters never win. Winners never quit. But those who never win and never quit are idiots.

 

The Election

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The Inner Life of Someone’s Mother – Tales from the Archives

wp-1477433725677.jpgWe are at a meeting of 4-H Leader Council. I am on the ballot for First Vice-President, chosen to run by a committee, so I agree. The committee gives their report a month before elections, so everyone can think about their choices. The other nominee for the job is a lady who stays with her child in Youth Council meetings instead of coming in with us so no one knows her. I feel funny while they tell about her and what a good leader and responsible person she is and then just read my name off. I feel like maybe I should have been given equal time but do not say anything, having already decided I don’t really want the job. I’m not even sure why they nominated me. I haven’t acted like officer material, and all I’ve done to draw attention to myself was to overflow the coffee pot and create a big mess at a meeting early in the year.

When the night for elections comes, everyone is joking and kidding. Campaign slogans are written on the board. Well, my opponent has declined to run so nominations are opened to fill her spot. A very popular man is convinced to run. He doesn’t even know the most important task is to provide refreshments for each meeting. His wife is up for president and all he worries about is whether he’ll have to take orders from her if they’re both elected. He clowns and tells everyone how unreliable he is. For a minute I am afraid they might actually elect me so I mention how my club was supposed to bring refreshments for the Youth Council meeting in January. We forgot all about it and were embarrassed in front of the largest, hungriest attendance in Youth Council history. Having established equal incompetence in the eyes of the voters I go confidently into the election, writing Joe’s name on my ballot.

The counters leave the room and return five minutes later with grim expressions. They hurriedly hand out blank papers and we know there has been a tie for one of the offices – but which one? I am amazed to find out it is between Joe and me! I am surprised and flattered to realize half the people there must have voted for me. I am also amazed that “Joe-come-lately” charmed his way to the other half of the votes without even being serious about the whole thing. Now I know I am going to feel bad if I lose. It is pretty clearly a popularity contest.

But then I look at Joe and see this great guy who clearly enjoys being involved with his family in 4-H. I know that he deserves to be sucked into some responsible position, just to make it hard for him to leave. The truth is, 95% of leader’s council members are women and any man who comes is likely to be elected to something at the earliest opportunity. It comes clear to me – a vote for Joe is a vote for masculine leadership in family affairs. He’s a shoo-in. I know I can organize refreshments for meetings. Joe needs to know he can do it too.

After he is elected I am able to go up and congratulate Joe and tell him I voted for him. I don’t mind losing the popularity contest. I enjoy reminding him what his new duties will be and even though he blanches a little, I don’t feel sorry for him. His wife wasn’t elected as president so not only will he not have to take orders from her, he’ll probably have her organizing refreshments before long.

Watching and Waiting: Part 2

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The continuing saga of Hurricane Matthew in Jacksonville

Friday: It was a restless night. We kept hearing the noise of the wind and rain messing with the tarp on our roof. The logs holding it down kept rolling around, thumping, and we wondered when the leaking would start. When it was light enough, Julie decided to move her vet van out to the other side of the electric gate, in case the power would go out and leave her trapped.  She thought it would be good to move my car out as well so it wouldn’t get stuck in the mud.  I never had noticed all the power lines overhead, but now that it was time to avoid them, there they were.

The barn owner came over in his golf cart and suggested better placement of our vehicles, so out we went again, looking for high ground away from trees. The weather was not particularly scary so we decided to eat a good breakfast before leaving. The cats were going to stay put in the barn apartment so we fed them too. The horses, backs to the wind, heads down, were still grazing out in the field pond.  Water, water everywhere and more coming down all the time.

We relocated to the main house around 11 and took up residence with Cliff, Monica and their kids, “hunkering down” as hurricane people call it in their solid, block house which Cliff assured us was going to be super safe in spite of being surrounded by huge trees.  For several hours we cooked, watched tv, and did all those electric things that one takes for granted, until the power went out at 3 pm.  The party spirit was not dampened in the slightest since the generator went on and powered lights and fans, tv and internet quite adequately.  Out on the dining room table a four hour (agonizing) game of Risk took place at decibel levels that I’m sure were damaging to the ears. I blogged and caught up on my Solitaire challenges.

Somewhere in its progression Matthew took an eastward jog which newscasters credited with saving most of Jacksonville. The reports showed the devastation of the beach towns which were flooded, but even there the damage could have been much worse.  Piers were washed away, people reported sharks in their front yards, trees were snapped off, all the routine hurricane stuff… Just sayin’…

It seemed like the wind was dying down where we were as well and I wanted to get out of the house and check on our things in the apartment before darkness was upon us. Julie and I set out in the golf cart during a lull, but before we got halfway to the barn the wind picked up again and, well, really impressed us, I’d have to say. It wasn’t a fearful moment, but definitely exhilarating to be aware of the power of the wind and driving rain, to have to wade through a foot of water to open the gate, and to arrive drenched in spite of rain gear.

The expected leak had begun but the buckets were catching most of it. The cats were fine. We grabbed some food to take back and braved the elements again going back to the house. More eating, waiting, watching tv until bedtime. We decided to sleep at the house where there were lights and fans and good company if we needed it. Still raining, but we were glad to hear the promise of better weather for the morning.

Saturday: From a west coast friend “it’s hard for me to understand why people choose to live where they have to prepare for possibly devastating weather. Every year.” I guess I would answer that I didn’t really choose Florida for its weather at all – I loved Wisconsin where I came from (although some people can’t understand choosing to live there either…). Sometimes the more pressing matter is where you have a job that will support your family. And I have to say that most of the year Florida weather is pretty desirable, judging by the crowd we get down here. Florida has been our home for 30 years and this is only the second time I have “hunkered down” during a hurricane. I do appreciate that we are given ample time to prepare and make decisions, even leave the path if we desire.

Today’s waiting is for the power to be restored and the water to run off. Most of us are a little stir crazy. I’ve been out to check the apartment, sweep debris and pile up fallen branches. We are still on generator power and it doesn’t run the AC so it’s getting a little damp and warm in the house, but overall, still comfortable. Although we have internet, my pictures will not upload so I will have to add them later. Check back if you wish. Thanks to everyone who cared about our welfare, and thanks to God for protection and comfort in the midst of the storm.