My parents separated when I was about seven. My dad was a firefighter (he's retired now) and worked 24 and 48 hour shifts a few times a week. When he did that (and it was his week), my brother and I would stay with our grandma about 15 minutes or so out of town. My grandma had this little kind of bungalow house on the shores of Chequamegon Bay. The beach wasn't technically private, (she shared it with two other families) but we were almost always the only ones on it. It sure felt private. And it's a beautiful beach -- all sand and incredibly clear but also incredibly cold water. Even then I knew it was an amazing thing to have that beach.
And many of my favorite memories were of the week when the cousins on my dad's side -- one family from Madison, one from Iowa -- would come to grandma's for a week. It was close to kid paradise (as corny as that sounds). Because it was ours.
My uncle would buy a ridiculous amount of chips and snacks. My aunts would make pierogies (not sure how to spell that), craft weird things out of driftwood and beach glass. There were seven of us kids, although Ben was a little older. We'd sleep in a tent by the house, stay up too late, get up when the sun heated up the tent, go swimming, and stay in our swimsuits pretty much all day. When the weather was bad, we'd play cards on the dining room floor for hours. We'd take trips sometimes to Bayfield with our parents, but we didn't usually want to, because it meant putting on actual clothes. But when we were there, my uncle Steve would buy pounds of salt water taffy. We'd take "boat trips" down the shoreline, led by my dad in the alumicraft, with all manner of watercraft tied together behind it: inner tubes, a canoe, a kayak. Jess and I would make treasure hunts for the younger kids that almost always ended on the beach where they'd have to dig for a bag of candy. We'd grill brats and burgers, get KFC, have spaghetti, grilled cheeses, order pizza. It was, at least as I remember it, a kid's version of paradise.
The last time we slept in that tent was 10 years ago, after Jess, Anne, and I saw the Blair Witch Project and, in the middle of the night, got so spooked that we almost broke each others' teeth crawling over each other to get out of the tent. The last time I saw most of those cousins was at my wedding, 7 years ago. Jess has two kids who I had never met.
I go back to my grandma's most summers but only for an afternoon or two (my grandma has been dead for about 7 years now). But this summer, we arranged a reunion of sorts. Five of us met back up at our grandma's house (now sometimes referred to as The Cabin), three of us with husbands/fiances, and one of us with kids. My parents kept telling me that I shouldn't expect it to be like it used to be. I'm not that naive. But in part, it was exactly the same. Chips, card games, brats, swimming, a few of us sleeping in the tent (not me, but a few of us).
I'd sit there at times wondering what roles we're in now. Who, I wonder, is auntie Clare? Who in this new arrangement is my aunt Judy? Who is my dad? And of course nobody fits those profiles perfectly, but there are MAJOR echoes of my dad in my brother. Even in my husband (we marry our fathers, right?). My cousin Clare reminds me of stories of my aunt Judy (her mother)-- playing with the kids, living in her swimsuit.
It was only for a handful of days, but it was exactly what I needed. Exactly what I wanted. A few days to reconnect with my cousins, to meet and fall in love with my cousin's kids, to spend a few days barefoot and in my swimsuit again. It's a bit of a haul for my cousin Jess with the kids, but I'm hoping this becomes a more regular occasion. I miss my cousins. I miss the lake.
It wasn't the only thing I did while in WI, but it was definitely one of the highlights. Other highlights include crashing a wedding reception to see my brother's band play, hanging out with Dave and Julie, hanging out with my dad, Frankie's pizza, seeing my sisters and their kids, going to Washburn with my mom.
And then, back home to KS. My mom and stepdad drove me back down and stayed a few days. We walked a bit of the prairie, grilled steaks, checked out campus, ate at So Long. Now they've gone back to WI, orientation has started, and I'm neck deep in course planning and such. The semester begins again in about a week.
From home to home and back again. I can hardly complain -- while the summer has been too short, it's been wonderful.
1 comment:
I'm a little late on reading this, but I would have to say that I pretty much totally agree with this entire post. You did forget to mention that Anne was Auntie Clare:)
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