Posts Tagged ‘family’
Leaving Early
I am departing at dawn this morning to dash home early from the “Golf Weekend” in order to then drive more than an hour west for Cyndie’s 50th high school reunion. They are starting with a boat cruise on Lake Minnetonka, then coming back to Eden Prairie for an “after party.”
The plan seems a little dizzying to me after my last two whirlwind days of activity and conversation with the regular crew of the annual weekend that Cyndie’s brothers host at the lake place.
Yesterday started a little rainy, but that didn’t stop the golfers.
I waited until late afternoon to head out on the bike with two other riders. We got dripped on a little bit, but returned to the house before it rained hard enough to get things wet. Nobody crashed, so that was a win.
Dinner was grilled meats, corn on the cob, and a few sides. Since they realized I would be leaving and would miss the big fish dinner tonight, they thawed a little fresh-caught Alaskan Salmon for me that Ben’s son, Beck, brought from his recent fishing trip.
More delicious food, keeping up a trend of good eats I’ve been feasting on lately. I’m not confident that I’ve done enough pedaling to justify my higher-than-normal calorie consumption of late.
I made a few more adjustments to my gear in a search to quiet my noisy bike. Putting the battery back on appears to have ended the annoying click I was experiencing in the vicinity of the bottom bracket, but that just made what seem like new squeaks extra irritating. I rode yesterday without my seat bag of road repair gear to see if that was adding to the squeakiness. It may have been better, but it wasn’t silent yet. My right shoe was doing some squeaking, so I’ve got a little tweaking to do there.
I think the problems might be a moving target that I’ll just have to learn to live with.
We ended the evening with a card game that involved dealing only one card to each individual. You just have to beat one other person, with the lowest card being the loser. Each guy started with three chips. The first person to lose three times and run out of chips gets to return to the game with one chip when play drops down to just three people left.
Last night, the person who earned that dubious honor came back to win the whole thing. It was highly entertaining.
The camaraderie is something I will miss, but I’m heading to a big night of visiting at Cyndie’s 50th reunion this afternoon and evening that I expect will fill the void nicely.
.
.
Goodbye Cousins
We miss them already. Yesterday afternoon was a series of hugs, salutations, well wishes, and goodbyes as most of the folks departed for their homes or next destinations.
Pick a color. Any color. Cyndie’s twin cousins, Mike and Tom, appear in all their brilliance. A rare moment when they aren’t displaying their usual smiles or infectious laughter.
The morning brought opportunities for some heartfelt sharing, adding depth to connections bolstered by this rare occasion of spending multiple days together free from any official events demanding attention. Well, that is, beyond the fabulous meals that kept happening.
I began the day with an immediate question for Cyndie when she woke up. Had she heard the dramatic clap of thunder from a lightning bolt that must have struck very close during the night? The flash was so bright that the pink glow that filled the window was apparent through my closed eyelids.
It became suspicious when she reported not hearing a thing, and I saw that surfaces out the window showed no evidence of it having rained. I checked with a few other people as the morning went on, but nobody had heard such a thing. Could it have been something I dreamed? It was so real to me.
When I mentioned it to Heather’s husband, John, a meteorologist, he pointed me to lightningmaps.org, where I could look at strikes in the last 24 hours.
There was no lightning strike for miles. What an amazing dream experience I’d had.
Cyndie and I finished off the last night of our long weekend with a couple of rounds of Hollywood Rummy with Sara and Althea. I enjoyed no luck.
This morning, we will pack up and head for home. I will only have a couple of days to ensure everything is ready for visitors on Thursday. Cyndie has invited folks from one of her drawing classes to come explore the views for inspiration toward their next works of art.
I plan to depart that day for a return to the lake, this time with my bike. It’s the annual golf (and biking) weekend hosted by Cyndie’s brothers, Steve and Ben. I will be accompanying any of the guys who want to mix in a ride after swinging the clubs.
It’s a tough job, but it’s what friends do.
Delicious Dining
One of the treats I am enjoying this weekend is the contributions of meals that have been outside of my norm. While the dinners have been from local institutions (Coop’s Pizza and “Famous Dave” Anderson’s version of barbecue from Tamarak Farms), the Brolin cousins have served up special versions of breakfast and lunch offerings.
Our weather yesterday hovered on the edge of being less than spectacular, with periods of misting precipitation and a lingering gray sky most of the day. That didn’t completely interfere with the pickleball games or the pontoon cruise, but what little swimming did occur was delayed until close to dinnertime when actual sunshine eventually appeared.
While in Norway, Cyndie and Elysa were introduced to a version of the “Hollywood Rummy” card game that I finally got a chance to play. It works really well with a large number of players and supports a fair amount of verbal action, both about the game and not.
While waiting for Steve and Ben to succeed in locating and porting a photo slideshow to the main room TV, I offered up the YouTube video I made of my family’s Intervale Ranch to give everyone a glimpse of my past. It’s been fun for me to be immersed in the pictures and stories from Cyndie’s and her cousins’ families, so I thought they might appreciate a little morsel of mine.
I can tell already that this joyous weekend will produce the residual longing for more after everyone returns to their real lives.
As always, it is the bonding with people that is such a treasure. The delicious eats are merely an added bonus.
.
.
Little Late
Why am I posting a little later than usual today? Thrilling, touching, hilarious conversations are never-ending, and I couldn’t break away after watching the 20th stage of the Tour de France and then eating breakfast, where I became immersed in story after story.
Even Steve and Jessica’s dog, Vern, couldn’t keep pace with all the tales of life experiences being shared.
We are having a fabulous and very precious time. Truly priceless moments in life made manifest, experiencing the interactions of the Friswold siblings and their maternal cousins.
That’s why I’m a little late. I snuck in a moment to post while on my way to a pee break.
.
.
Cousin Weekend
Not my cousins. We are back at the lake again, this time for a special weekend that will include Cyndie’s cousins on her mom’s side. Marie had one sister, Joan (pronounced JoAnne), who had four kids. The kids are each married and will be joining all of the four Friswold siblings and their spouses without any of our kids for a distraction-free weekend of laughter, memories, and bolstering of the family bonds.
Cyndie and I arrived mid-afternoon yesterday, picking up groceries in Hayward for the weekend that Cyndie purchased online from home on Wednesday night. She was so excited to discover it was possible. There was a childlike glee that had her mentioning several times on the drive up how pleased it made her feel. It’s hard to deny the ease and convenience of avoiding the crunch of other shoppers up and down aisles and getting through the checkout lanes, and instead, pulling up to the front of the store to have all our groceries placed in our car.
Some people wouldn’t want to settle for someone else choosing their produce, but for the convenience, Cyndie is willing to flex her standards. The corn I was tasked with shucking all looked more than adequate to me. When asked by someone about how they did with selections, Cyndie rated it a solid medium.
Faint praise, maybe, but certainly acceptable.
Being the first ones up, we immediately set about opening shades and windows, turning on ceiling fans, putting away groceries, and refilling hummingbird feeders. The landscape pond needed water added. The new mattress for the hide-a-bed needed to be unboxed and allowed to expand.
Most of the preparations were in place by the time Barry, Carlos, and Marie arrived. They made it just in time to accept an invitation to join folks from three other Wildwood Lodge Club member families for a happy hour pontoon cruise.
I don’t know why we bothered with a dinner plan for later in the evening. I ate more than a meal’s worth of scrumptious appetizers throughout the practically 2-hour float around the majority of the lake.
Never ones to stop a meal plan already in motion, the Friswold hosts whipped up a feast of grilled burgers, corn-on-the-cob, salad, and potatoes after we got back to shore. It was about three hours past my preferred dinner time and only about an hour away from my bedtime, but I nibbled half-servings of two options. It is difficult for me to lie down to sleep when I’ve still got a meal in my stomach; however, they serve up some irresistibly delicious cuisine.
I made a worthy exception to my usual routine.
This afternoon, all the other parties will gradually arrive, and the games, excited banter, precious memories, raucous laughter, and likely too much food will unfold naturally. It is reasonable to assume it will be sustained for the ensuing 48 hours.
.
.
It’s Wildwood
From memory, a stab at the lyrics to a song I wrote back in the early 1980s after a particularly remarkable Independence Day weekend that lingered long after I had returned to the day job. This was shortly after the property had been divided into lots, which individual families then took ownership of. Before that change, they all shared every cabin, rotating every couple of weeks to give everyone a taste of each precious spot on the lake, along with the different quirks of each very old log cabin.
Seems just like a week or two
and 4th of July has come and gone
and I was up at my favorite place
Friends were there to have a time
but not the one we used to know
cabins have moved, and new ones are growin’
a place to sleep’s not as easily found
Sit on the porch of what was cabin three
almost see the beach you never used to see
and Tommy and Jane, and Justin, it’s true
are heard laughin’ and singin’ and workin’ too
It’s Wildwood, Wildwood!
It’s been so long, but the change is good
Wildwoo-ooo-ood
Friends had gathered to have a good time
work god done, we had a good time
we weren’t all there, it’s sad to say
but we’re fixin’ the place for another day
The old road don’t go the way it used to go
nor some people’s car the way the new one goes
but we all got together and pushed it out
who says there weren’t games this holiday
As evening came, we gathered ‘round
for the kind of picnic you’re supposed to have
and though people not present were sadly missed
there were fireworks displayed to rival all time
It’s Wildwood, Wildwood!
It’s been so long, but the change is good
Wildwoo-ooo-ood
As much as it seems as though it’s really changed
and mud has replaced the sprouts of poison ivy
the swing still swings between two big trees
from which you can still hear the Friswolds up at cabin 3
Hayward’s still a few minutes away
Round Lake crisp and clear as any day
and all the people who have made it what it really is
are all the people who will make it what it really is
It’s Wildwood, Wildwood!
It’s been so long, but the change is good
Wildwoo-ooo-ood
.
.
Celebrating 60th
It was 60 years ago that a group of Twin Cities guys jumped on an opportunity to purchase a lodge property called Wildwood on one of the most pristine lakes in northern Wisconsin. It’s transformed over the years with changes in families and bylaws, but it has survived as a unique association with long-term relationships in a fabulous location in the woods on a lake. Definitely a phenomenon worthy of celebration.
I’ve written about it before under the Wildwood tag among my “Previous Somethings” (such as this one), so today I am going to present the day in a few images…
.
.
Midnight Sun
After picking up Cyndie and Elysa at the airport yesterday, the stories flowed in rapid succession without pause. Tales about crossing into the Arctic Circle. Descriptions of a weekend at the island cabin of Norwegian relatives. Descriptions of the beauty of the fjords, the unique cruise ship, the uncharacteristic heat wave, the relief to be home after a loooong day of travel, and the ensuing jet lag.
Cyndie stayed awake as long as she could before conking out around 8:00 p.m., equal to 3:00 a.m. in the time zone they just returned from. That is on top of only getting a few hours of sleep the night before. I plan to offer her plenty of compassion and tolerance for any demonstrations of fogginess in the next few days.
Of course, at our age, it’s not clear that our mental acuity ever fully returns to previous levels after we tax ourselves to dramatic degrees.
Before Cyndie dozed into a restless early-evening slumber, she granted my wish for a few photos from her large collection documenting their adventures celebrating Elysa’s birthday, with a healthy dose of midnight sunshine.
.
.
Elysa’s Birthday
Today is Elysa’s birthday, and Cyndie and Elysa are celebrating on a Norwegian cruise boat that will take them up into the Arctic Circle to experience the midnight sun.
After their cruise, they will make their way to Oslo and spend a few days visiting with Friswold relations.
Asher and I have survived our first weekend on our own, with one week to go until I drive to the airport to pick up our Norwegian adventurers. So far, so good. He’s only disappeared on me 3 or 4 times and got himself on the wrong side of the fence of the neighboring property once.
Ella, who stopped by to feed the animals when I was in Cambridge on Saturday, told me that she walks him on a leash to avoid the risk of losing him. I can fully understand why she would choose to do that.
After I retrieved him from one of his unauthorized jaunts yesterday, I convinced him to help me process the latest compost pile that finished cooking.
I was wheeling loads down to the staging space by the labyrinth, and Asher would muster the effort to get up and follow me. The second time we were making the trek, a rabbit hopped into view, and Asher came to life with a sprint that took him out of sight into the woods one more time.
Having now grown accustomed to losing him, I didn’t fret over it. When I got back to the compost area with the emptied wheelbarrow, Asher was already there, waiting for me to return.
Over by the strawberry patch, there was a clue waiting for me to see that I’m not staying ahead of the squirrels, birds, and probably rabbits that think the juicy red fruit is growing there just for them.
The stump of a tree had quite a few of the discarded green leafy crowns of the berries scattered all over it, in addition to two bright red pieces of fruit. I guess the critters are not trying to hide evidence of their activities. Seeing that emphasized to me that I need to be picking berries before they get to them.
Unfortunately, I found very few worth keeping. If the squirrels weren’t taking them, some slug-looking insect was burrowing into many of the rest. I find mowing grass to be a much more dependable endeavor than trying to grow fruits and vegetables.
I’m thinking about celebrating Elysa’s birthday today by treating myself to some ice cream in the middle of the afternoon. Since they are 7 hours ahead in Norway, it will be like I’m joining them for an after-dinner dessert.
I won’t be putting any fresh strawberries on top.
.
.
Longest Day
Happy Summer Solstice, loyal readers! Here we are at the longest day, and it hardly feels any different than yesterday, when I spent more solo hours in a car in one day, traveling to a graduation of a grandnephew in Cambridge, MN, than I have done in a very, very long time. It wasn’t bad. A comparison could be made to spending hours on a lawn tractor mowing multiple acres of grass.
It’s a good thing there are so many hours of sunlight, allowing me time to catch up on mowing grass that keeps growing longer and longer due to the many hours of sunlight feeding it.
I struggle to find words to adequately describe how precious it is to arrive to see my siblings and their families with my mental health robustly free of the foggy, dysfunctional gloom of depression. The level of difference is something that no one but me can perceive, and it is a special joy to experience and recognize.
It’s wild to think about the reference we siblings have to each other at our current ages, having lived together as kids in our shared childhood environments.
As descriptions of aging bodies were shared, I found myself more invested in learning details of afflictions that could just as easily impact the shared genes in my body. It is often referred to as an “organ recital” when old folks get together and share the litany of degenerating physical functions that each one is coping with.
All things being relative, we can all be thankful that none of us is facing something worse. Blessings counted.
The visit was shorter than I would have wished, and triggered an urge to look for an opportunity to revive one of our multi-day gatherings. Let me just look at the calendar.
Never mind.
It was a heck of a lot easier when we just lived together at the farm called Intervale Ranch on the border of Eden Prairie and Edina, MN, back in the good old days.
Those were some fine, long summer days…
.
.
Relative Something 