A GOOD LIFE
The reality of having my eldest son live in the Philippines is daunting in the sense that…I am seriously old… and the PI is a long ways away. At least 36 or more hours at best. This is me vulnerable and cranky and needy, okay? But, as with many things in life there’s an upside. This is me being Pollyanna. Scott comes home a couple of times a year and stays a month or so…in other words I’m actually spending more time with him than when California was home. In fact it’s long enough for me to notice that he really does a bad job of bed-making and for him to realize that it’s always too warm in the house because I keep sneaking the temperature back up. The truth is we usually get along quite famously…talking about the great issues of the world (or more likely movies, books, politics, TRAVEL, food, although I’m an extremely disappointing conversationalist in the case of the latter), and we watch a little too much TV. His brother is here with us much of the time, and we do more of the same; our familial habits of teasing, bickering, and generally just wasting time most pleasantly remain strong. I find this all absolutely satisfying…in fact when they’re at their goofiest, I’m sort of transported back many decades to a home noisy with wild little boys of the goodish variety. I do love hanging out with my ageing children.
Shortly after Scott arrived in July, he and I took a week’s trip up the Minnesota to spend time with jolly old uncle Robert…who only appears curmudgeonly when his sister is around. We had a splendid week. Visited the Old Place, half of which is Scott’s; stopped by the neighbor-friends, some of whom farm the property; watched the Olympics with great pleasure (France being one of my top three favorite places in the world); had a party with Robert and Marsha’s friends, who, over the years, have become my friends as well; walked by the Mississippi, and did a little shopping, eating, complaining about the state of the world (as old people are wont to do), but more than anything we appreciated our lives.
As you know from the tens of posts and, quite likely, hundreds of photos I’ve posted over the years of the little farm where I grew up, I feel an abiding need to spend a few hours there whenever possible. Restores my sense of just exactly who I am. This year was no different. We did stop for coffee with the Ungerechts, neighbors of mom and dad’s for as long as I can remember, helping them often as they grew older. One member of the family keeps an eye on our place now, as he plows and hays the open fields. Eventually my sons will pass the land on to their children, each of whom will become property owners of 20 acres of woods, fields, and swamp in Koochiching County, Minnesota. In a part of the continent that will be the last to fatally succumb to global warming…as I frequently remind them.
The day trip of Up-north to Northome isn’t over yet. At the corner cafe, where a gas station use to be, we stopped for beer and burgers. AND had the perfect hamburger. Exactly like mom used to make. A buttered bun browned on the stovetop and a well-fried piece of good ground beef topped with ordinary cheese. Couple of tiny dill pickle slices on the side. No green stuff, no veggies at all. No mayo, catsup. It was delicious.
We drove home by way of the Lost Forty. Forty acres of land that got overlooked when boundaries were drawn back in the day. No one owned it so no one could cut the timber. Consequently it retains a bit of the grandeur of old growth forest. Then…a wild Minnesota party with Robert and Marsha’s friends. Eventually we were back in Albuquerque enjoying our last weeks with Scott before he returns to the Phillipines.
Thanks for bring me up to date. I do enjoy following your family adventures. I especially connected with the family home falling into decay.. nice to still have that property and the family place and memories. The home I grew up is gone and my Dad’s house and farm are gone and my mom and stepfather’s home is gone. Can’t go home .. but I like you, I am sure, can go home again in our mind.. it is always there. Tom