You asked about my birthday. It was Labor Day weekend. I know that's a while ago and I apologize for the delay. The next time you’re at loose ends and can think of nothing more exciting than clipping coupons or banking that big check for the crop you’ve sold, consider spicing up your life at Grand Bear Lodge. Next year, the cabins will be finished and open for groups of up to 25. Guests have exclusive access to the indoor water park. I'm sure you have kids who would love to spend a day or two in the water chutes.
I had worked on this but gotten sidetracked with sick dogs. I think Montezuma had a dog. Someone has had his revenge on my dogs. Paige has come the past two weekends to help feed fingersful of food and offer palmsful of water. Two are back on their feet but another is down. Between feedings [is there a between?], I'm yanking down branches from some of these fallen trees. The fun around here is unending.
Friday –
Dan and Kendall arrived unexpectedly. That was fine. I needed all the help I could get. I had last minute packing to finish and needed to organize medicine (in bread balls) for four dogs and had some complicated feeding and medication instructions for the dog sitter. I can't seem to teach the dogs self-medication. I’d been cleaning the car but, not up to her standards, Kendall did more. I’d gotten into crevices, but she found more. We brought out the lint rollers and brushes and had another go with the vacuum cleaner. Then, she took the car out for a good wash and wax, something I'd tried earlier in the day. Kendall, a veteran fuel specialist who kept her truck in tip-top shape, was all over this little car with the hoses and brushes and, in no time, my little car shone.
Saturday –
The refrigerator filled with dog food specials for Ursa and stacks of food for our dogsitter, we grabbed the newly charged camera and finished loading. We were getting a late start and, before we could leave town, the flurry of phone calls began. Paige was at the townhouse, waiting.
It promised to be a great Labor Day weekend. We, on our way to fun of all sorts of fun, were happily chatting when, over the horizon, we saw the advancing National Guard convoy. Goosebumps. Wet eyes. A catch in the throat. The flag was passing by. All those beautiful young men, brave and strong, were on their way to cope with the devastation left in the wake of Hurricane Katrina. We were so cheered to see them and to see the long line of trucks and trailers transporting the city in which they would live for the next several weeks. In that mass of equipment, Kendall [a recent Guardsman] explained there would be MREs, tools, tents, lines, a generator, a kitchen, a hospital and more I cannot remember. I recognized the medic vans, the tow trucks and the water buffalo. We’d lost count of the vehicles long before we saw the tanker which, as a caboose once signaled the end of a train, signals convoy’s end.
So many had waited and prayed for help for the hurricane victims and, now, we were seeing hope on the move. I wish I could have been standing by the road with a flag and a smile. I know they didn’t hear my applause.
Paige had given us further directions, “Drive around back of the lodge, follow the road (a Bear Trail?) to compound J, townhouse #1 (?). Finding the outer edge of the parking lot, we wandered through, rounding circles not ours, until we found a clearing where a large oval patch of grass, skirted by roads, reminded us of the village "squares" of small towns. There it was. Our place. We parked, honked and Paige appeared.
What a set up! The street door opened into a spacious room with sliding doors at the far end. To our left was a washer and dryer with hanging space. Beyond was a kitchen with cabinet space on two long walls and under the eating space which separated the kitchen from the living room area. We had a dishwasher, a microwave oven, dishes, glassware, tableware and small appliances tucked into the corner of the counter but it’s good that Kendall had brought her knives. The girls had planned menus. When I had protested that a townhouse was unnecessarily large and too expensive, Paige had explained the townhouse had a full kitchen and it had been many years since the 3 of us had cooked together.
Between the bar and the living area was a large table with many chairs. The overstuffed sofas, arranged in an “L” around a shin buster, looked onto a gas fireplace and a television set into a decorative stone corner. The doors led to a small deck some 3 yards from the fence that separated us from a field of prairie grass, beyond which were trees on the edge of a sheer cliff on the river’s edge.
We relaxed and rehydrated on the deck and, as there was a “moose X-ing” on the road to the lodge, we set up a moose watch. What we saw were small birds with dove-gray breasts and charcoal backs who seemed to become blue when they flew away. It was an odd sensation. Kendall said they seemed to have purple beneath their wings – probably, the explanation for the blue flashes we were seeing.
Refreshed and full of plans, we gathered our things and prepared for a strenuous afternoon. We drove to the lodge. It had seemed further when we were searching for J-1. It was the last time we drove. As we’ve all done at camp, we walked to all on-grounds activities thereafter. We’d planned to eat dinner in the dining room of the lodge but, for a lunchtime adventure, we headed to the bar [Brat Bar?] and ate our lunch on the lowest deck overlooking over a small canyon. The weather has been so dry that our canyon was more a stone gulch. We did manage to see an occasional drip on the cliff face.
The noise [music] from the water park was so loud that I wasn’t sure that I wanted to spend time there but we donned our swimwear and plunged into the excited crowd. Hours later, I had experienced a number of lifetime firsts. We’d gone round and round in circles lounging on “tubes” for a while. This was a “dunking Mater” game, I think. Finally, we climbed the stairs with our tubes and waited in line for the water slide. It turned out to be more a water tube than a water slide. We were told to choose our music (Sousa, my choice), seat ourselves on our tubes and shove off. Fortunately, there were helpers for those of us with “bottom drag.” One daughter waiting, the other cheering me on, I rushed down this long tube, filled with lights and noise, and splashed into the waiting pool. Such excitement! What a shame no one got photos. We trudged up the stairs again and chose the “noise” and shot down the tube. On the third climb, Paige asked if I wanted to try the shorter line. This was good. I really liked the body surfing tube. I tried that several times, with one rest break to catch my breath before trudging up the stairs.
After our excitement in the tubes, we moved to the wave pool. There was no excitement there and, when someone did start the wave pool, I couldn’t understand why this was supposed to be so much fun. I wanted to go back to the slides but it was time to clean up and plan toward dinner so we slogged through the wet dressing room, drying and dressing so we could get into the car. It had been decided that we wouldn’t need the car for the trip again but we had to get it home.
At home, we showered, dressed and relaxed. For a while, we saw little from the deck but butterflies and birds. After we checked the lodge cam to see how busy the various areas were, Kendall and I brought our coffee onto the deck where, as evening was coming on, the dragonflies seemed to be everywhere.
Judging it late enough that children had been taken home for bed [we were wrong], we headed for the lodge for dinner. We left the Bear Trail for a short cut across a village green and discovered tree frogs. We didn’t see them, of course, but it did make me wish that Sam had come along. Sam is 7 and very fond of frogs. He carries a wonderful rubber frog to church. One evening, he shared. I wish I could have shared this experience with him. Surely, he'd love this sound.
I must look really frail. At the lodge, people were so impressed that I had gone down the water slide. Waiting for the kids after dinner, I fell into conversation with a guy named Mike. He was impressed that I’d been down the water slide and even more impressed that we were heading for the trails at Starved Rock on Sunday. I, then, explained that I’d told everyone all week that this was, apparently, supposed to be my last birthday. The kids were planning to kill me or discourage me from ever going anywhere with them again. He laughed, said the kids seemed to like me a lot and told me he’d look for me on Sunday.
Bless the dragonflies. There seemed to be no mosquitoes anywhere. The television was on but it didn’t interest me so I relaxed on the deck. Kendall and I set up our animal watch but saw little. We did love the night sky. It was so clear and the stars were so bright. We saw Ursa Major, now on the back side of the townhouse, and a few other specks in the sky. One bright light was, obviously, a planet but what of that one? “Well, that one is a plane,” I decided. Kendall left me and I watched the sky. I noticed lights crossing the sky, southwest to northeast, and concluded that these were heading for a landing in Chicago. Watching others appear in the northeast, I was surprised that several seemed to turn on the North Star where they, gradually, disappeared into the night sky.
Around 11 P.M., I wandered onto the balcony of my room because I’d seen lights in the sky behind the trees along the cliff. At first, I thought it must be lightning but heard no thunder. When I heard a distant explosion, I recognized the fireworks celebration that must be somewhere on the river.
Kendall found me on the balcony when she came to say good night before going off to her camp on the main floor. The townhouse can accommodate 10, with some camping out in the common area which is where Kendall preferred to be. I couldn’t persuade Kendall to share my room. This had been decided in advance. This room had been chosen for the birthday girl so there I was in the lap of luxury. It was, definitely, the best room in the house. Like the living room, it had its fireplace, television and overstuffed sofa (a sleeper) but it was larger than the living area so it could include a king-sized bed, a wall dresser, a whirlpool and a dressing room. This would be the time to say I slept a dreamless sleep but that, for once, was not true. As dreams are an almost forgotten experience for me, I enjoyed waking from dreams to the night sounds just off my balcony. Kendall was right. She’d, surely, slept better in her own camp.
Sunday –
Kendall and I were back on animal watch early in the morning. Our mystery birds had returned and there were paths in the grass. We hoped that deer had visited in the night and we hoped we’d see them before we left. No such luck.
As we left our townhouse, we discovered the source of all the children's voices. The "green" was filled with groups of children throwing balls, flinging frizbees and chasing footballs.
We ate brunch at the Lodge, a very good veggie omelet and tons of other stuff, before we left for Starved Rock just down the road. We checked the map before we started down the trail. The main trail is no longer a trail. The trip into the valley and up on the other side was a matter of endless stairs.
We took photographs as we walked around atop the rock and descended to explore parts of the valley. At one place, Paige pointed and said, “They’ve put up a railing, I see. This is where I pushed Daddy over the cliff when we were here.” The railing is a good idea. Sliding off a 6-inch cliff can cause serious injurry. Our exploration over, we headed for the final stairs. These stairs were high and I huffed and puffed a lot. Finally, I stopped to rest and Paige laughed. “When I brought Daddy, it was about here that he told me ‘Go on, go on. Save yourself!” I was grateful for Josh’s arm. I’m not so selfless than I would send everyone on without me.
At the top, I'd recovered a bit -- I'm, definitely, a flatlander -- and we wandered through the cluster of cabins and carved “totem poles” to the car. I stopped to admire some of the animal life walking their people around the area before we walked to the car. From there, we drove to Utica, a town of huge rummage sales. We approved the technique of one salesman and went round the block to hear him blow his ram’s horn again. Actually, we were looking for a grocery store. The Hi-Vee had be recommended but, we found one on Main Street and prowled that instead.
Soon, we were home for a short recuperation and snack. Deciding against another dose of chlorine, we headed for miniature golf – another first for me. Because it was my birthday, I won. At least that’s what the scorekeeper told me. There were a couple of “Acts of God” shots – God, played by first one and then another of the kids -- and one great shot performed by a trained ball. Still, the rest enjoyed the same edge. Mike was at the equipment shed when we returned our clubs and balls. He wished me a happy birthday, asked how I did, was impressed that I, a first timer, had beat the professionals and gave me a sound kiss on the cheek for a happy year ahead.
From there, we headed for drink on another low deck on the little canyon. It was a quieter deck than we’d had yesterday. The canyon echoed with its own tiny sounds, echoes we'd missed on the preceding day when they were swallowed by the surrounding vegetation and covered by the music from the water park. Today the great competition for silence were the motorcycle tours parading through the area. I'd, first seen them as they'd gone by our golf course. For much of the afternoon, small groups of cyclists continued to explore the grounds. I was glad we learned a new way to our digs. Watching the foot traffic on a bridge beside us, we saw that people were going beyond the first complex by way of a footpath so, leaving, we followed the same path along the canyon toward our abode. We did, finally, hear water. We could tell it was a trickling waterfall but, even from the overlook, we could not glimpse it. Lagging behind, I came across a small, very dirty pool into which frogs leaped at my approach. I lingered.
Before settling into our evening, Kendall cornered me to present gifts. She had chosen a black suit, long skirt and jacket with a red blouse whose occasional flocking lent it an Oriental feel. I should have worn it to my Birthday Supper of Shrimp Kabobs with mixed vegetables on buckwheat soba noodles. I’m sure a guest of honor is allowed bare feet. As it is, I have not worn my new outfit because I have yet to have an occasion. I shall, soon, be able to put the great new beige jacket to good use on one of these cool nights.
Sitting on the deck, watching dusk fall, I saw wild turkeys. I have photographs. “See these black dots? This is a turkey head and this is a turkey head.” These, as you will know, are not great photographs. We had watched too long before we got the idea of taking pictures then, when, everyone got into the act, the turkeys continued to wander further and further from us.
“Can’t anyone do a turkey call?” we asked each other.
“What we need is our favorite turkey,” said Paige.
“The phone has everything,” I said. “Go call Daddy and put him on the speaker.”
After a lot of giggling, Paige went for her phone (which is, also, her camera). She dialed and, very soon, we heard her say, “Do your turkey call.” There followed minutes of great hilarity. It was a silly idea, of course, and the phone hadn’t enough volume to reach the attention of any of the turkeys. Then, as we watched, one turkey raised his head and, one after another, a few of the rest did, too. It was of no help. They were still too far away to photograph. When the turkeys had worked their way across the field and were about to disappear into the trees to the west, Kendall walked to the west along the fence. When she came back, I asked her where she’d been. “I remembered there was a path down there and thought I’d see if I could catch them there,” she said. Then, she described for me, in eloquent details, the look the turkey had given her when he looked back to see her pointing her camera at him.
The turkeys gone, we settled down to an evening of Yahtzee and adventure remembrances. We’d had some good times and we found they were good again. During the last gasp of a game, the girls decided they must start the meal. There was chopping and skewering, boiling and baking to be done so Josh and I were left to our own devices. He and I finished the game, calling the kitchen crew as the turn of each came. Now that I think of it, we could have moved the game to the bar. It would have saved a lot of steps and time. I guess we were just too comfy on those sofas.
During supper, Paige mentioned there was one more gift to come. I was a little surprised. Paige had paid for the weekend. I thought that was sufficient. She said it wasn’t but that I couldn’t get my gift until morning – at the lodge.
After a good meal, Paige suggested a facial. This is something she does well. We were surprised that none of us had packed for this event. The next thing on the agenda was my introduction to a whirlpool. A very interesting event. For the next couple of hours, I relaxed and napped to every compass point on the great, comfortable bed. Eventually, I visited the balcony, said goodnight to the meadow and turned out the lights. I awakened several times and, once, did some packing to the accompaniment of racing motors across the river. That explains the parade of motorcyles, I guess.
Monday –
Up earlier than intended but it was a happy coincidence. The turkeys had returned. We, first saw them in the west. As they moved to the east and the center of the field, Kendall and I tried, again, to photograph them. More dots, I’m afraid.
We all finished packing, made the great tomato trade – Paige’s large green for my small red -- and loaded the cars. I sorta thought all those goodbyes were wasted when Paige’s parting remark was, “See you at the lodge.”
We seemed to be milling around while Josh played with his computer, something he does at every opportunity. It had been explained to me that he could use his computer only in the lodge. Something in the air, I guess. It’s some sort of wireless connection. I watched the activity in the water park until the girls called me. Paige sat down at the computer and began to explain about blogs (again). We'd discussed this before. The Blog idea had intrigued me but I'd never quite made it beyond the intrigue. It takes an enormous amount of effort for me to unscramble any technical information. If it's more complicated than "open door," I'm soon lost.
As I was fading, Paige got my attention with a blog site named "Pour Mater, announcing that she and Kendall had set up this one for me. It begins with her words of presentation:
We love you momma.
But if you won't write it, we will.
What the girls had done was start a blog and begin to fill it with messages from my files. Now, really – isn’t that sweet? We played with it for a while but I can’t say I’d learned much when we parted. They have promised to consult with me on a continuing basis. It’s working out well. Each has given me advice regularly and Paige has added a couple of new blog sites for me to play in, storing things I might lose as my computer fades a little more each day. I’m saving lots of stuff and will get around to editing and posting as time goes by so, if you miss me, you know where to look.
It really was the best birthday ever. We'd missed little. There was no time in our schedule for horseback riding or real golf; we hadn't known about the fireworks; and we heard more than we wanted of the motorcycle races as it came to us across the river. The great gift was time and peace and dreams. The dreams recurred over the next few days -- until Ursa got sick. I hope for their return.
When I wrote to the guys in the Gulf, I sent things they could send to their children. "It's important to have something to hold in the hand," I told them. That was so true in a place and time where there was no e-mail and no blogs. In former years, I'd have had photos and these new clothes to remind me. Now, I have a blog in which to play -- definitely, definitely, the gift that keeps on giving and something I'll never wear out or outgrow. Cyberspace, it seems, is limitless.
I hope your Labor Day was as pleasant.
