Practicing togetherness

Yesterday was the two week mark for being back in Michigan.  I’m guessing that means we made the cross-country trip from California unscathed. King and I subscribe to the “this is real and this is dangerous” line of thought when it comes to COVID-19, so two-weeks is presumably the safety zone.

While face masks are obviously not within our normal purview, social distancing is something King and I have been practicing for years.|

We have never been social creatures. While I truly enjoy going out to lunch or dinner – it’s mostly because I’m tired of cooking -- King does not like going out to eat. At all. Period. The end.  When an anniversary or birthday rolls around our daughter has to remind King that he should take me out to eat. She used to say, “That doesn’t mean McDonalds or Burger King. It means a sit-down restaurant.” She now has to add, “It doesn’t mean Big Boy, either. Take her someplace where she can order a Bloody Mary.” But we don’t have to worry so much about that now. Even with some restaurants opening I don’t see us going out any time soon.

Now golf…. Well that’s another story. King was quite concerned about being able to hit the links. It looks as though his concern was unwarranted. Courses have opened.

So for us, life has pretty much continued as it was before COVID-19.  There are a few changes the observant person might find interesting. Today I had to stand outside the grocery store with other masked strangers and wait my turn to enter. Who would have thought? As I was standing there I had the opportunity to observe people as they left.  It would seem “Have a nice day,” has been replaced with “Stay safe.” I rather like that. But again, who would have thought?

And I don’t mean to trivialize the impact the shutdown has had on people. I understand the need to get back to work, the frustration with unemployment applications and the worry of trying to pay bills with no income.  Been there.

And life goes on.

Since we got back we’ve been able to visit with our Michigan grandchildren. One son lives in Paw Paw and the other in Grand Haven.  We’ve visited both families but remained outside for both visits. I have to add in this instance the social distancing thing does have its advantages. There is no longer that awkward moment when saying hello or goodbye that you have to wonder, “Does this pre-teen really want me hugging him/her?”  The more shy grandchildren no longer have to slink out of the room when we say goodbye.

So after the excitement of visiting grandchildren, today was another in a long line of quiet days.

It’s been raining all day and the weather has driven King and I inside. These are the days when one really notices the togetherness of living in 192 square feet. King is lying in the bedroom watching the first season of Yellowstone on DVD. I’m sitting 10 feet away in the dining room – your typical small camper with bench seats and a table between them. I have folded the table down into a bed so I can sit with my feet up. Cindy is snoring next to me. Separating the front of the trailer where I’m sitting and the back of the trailer where King is watching TV is the galley on the left and the bathroom on the right. That’s it. That’s our house. It’s not for everyone. Even the best of friends don’t always like one another 24-hours a day. We simply make it work because if it doesn’t, friends and family can say, “See I told you living in a travel trailer was a dumb idea.”

While there are those who shake their heads and make disparaging remarks under their breath, there are others who often tell me, “I’ve always wanted to live in a trailer and just travel. It sounds like so much fun.”

Yes, we ARE having fun. But it’s not as if you can just sell off all your possession, hook up the trailer and go. There is a lot of behind the scenes planning. Things like auto insurance, health insurance, mailing addresses, annual physicals, emergency dental visits,  or even just carrying around an extra prescription for glasses (in case you accidently drive over your only pair because you left them on the tailgate while hooking up the trailer in the rain).   There is a learning curve for shopping when your refrigerator is not much bigger than a dorm refrigerator and your cupboard is 24 x 24 (inches).  And probably one of the biggest learning curves is learning to ignore snarky comments; learning to say snarky comments quietly enough so your deaf partner can’t hear you and learning to point your head in the other directions when saying quiet, snarky comments just in case your partner can see your lips moving – it’s an exhaustive list. 

It mostly works for us.

Mother's Day 2020

It's been a pretty subdued Mother's Day.

King and I went to a drive thru, got sandwiches and took them to the beach to watch the waves from the truck. I guilted him into it by telling him it was Mother's Day and since no one could visit he would have to substitute for the kids. We both knew I was fibbing. It is what it is. We are a close enough family that I.don't need anything special for Mother's Day. There will be plenty of other days for family gatherings.

One of our sons did stop by and give me a small plant. Since he has severe anxiety issues, the short stay and social distancing was probably a good thing for him.

Mother's Day brings about a lot of memories. Not so much about Mother's Day past, but about Mothers in general.

My cousin and I were talking (via Messenger) last night about horses and the memories of growing up with horses. I shared the following with her. Since it includes a memory of Mom it also makes a good Mother's Day post.

I had this big dumb Quarter Horse gelding when I was growing up. He was probably way too much horse for a rather mild-mannered equestrian (read he scared me sh--less). But he was born on the place which made his price one a frugal Dutch couple could manage. It never occurred to any of us that perhaps there might be a better fit somewhere in the equine world.

Mom, August 4, 1945. Her
wedding day. 

Chubby (the name of the horse) had a propensity of deciding when he had enough and would stand stock still. That was always a bad sign since his normal demeanor was prancing around and giving little crow-hops just for grins (his grins). Once he decided to not to move  you knew your next few minutes would include bouncing across the yard as he would then rear up and go over backwards. I learned to bail and roll. I was 12 at the time. He was a green-broke three-year old who could get away with it because, well, I was 12.

One day my younger sister, my BFF and I were going riding together when he decided "Nope. Not going to happen today."

As I rolled across the grass my friend took off on her horse to catch him. I picked myself up, spit out dirt and grass and counted my teeth then started down the road to meet her. We caught up with one another in front of the neighbors. My friend handed me the reins and Chubby started dancing around and stomping on feet. I'd had enough.

I took the reins from her and beat him across the chest spewing profanity that would make a sailor blush. My friend's eyes grew huge and she inclined her head slightly behind me. There stood Mom.

Mom was not impressed. "You get down on your knees right now and pray for forgiveness."

Up until this point in my life I had never talked back to my mother. But I looked at her and said, "Sure Mom. You hold the #$%#@# horse."

That was the last time I ever talked back to Mom. It was also the last time Chubby threw me.

Home Sweet Home

King and I made it back to Michigan and are spending day three in our new home.

So far we are quite pleased with it. Our little Shasta was 18 feet long. This one is 24 feet long. It's amazing what a difference six feet can make. No, it's not a fancy trailer. It's a 1983 model and has a few quirks. One of the windows was replaced by a previous owner. It doesn't match the rest. I'm not even certain it opens. I may try, but not today, or this week even. King and I have been driving cross-country together for three days and then spent a day loading stuff into our new home. Now would not be a good time to try to open a window and not be able to close it. I'll wait until neither one of us is crabby any longer. Maybe August.

We are staying at a seasonal campground outside of South Haven. It's not fancy but it is very, very nice. The owners are a young couple with young children. They have been very helpful and friendly and have gone out of their way to make sure we have what we need. (Their business prospect for the coming summer have to be pretty scary for them). It's a clean little campground with water and electric (no sewer, but there is a dump station on the grounds) as well as primitive campsites. The sites are nice, grassy spots (no shade). There are also several cabins to rent as well. It is located next to the Kal Haven Trail. If I were so inclined I could walk along the trail to either South Haven or Kalamazoo. Like opening the trailer window, it probably is not going to happen.

Although we are one of two trailers here early in the season (and the other one doesn't appear to be occupied at the moment) the campground has the potential to be rather busy. I am guessing this season will depend upon how people feel about camping this summer and the lifting of restrictions in the state. The place is booked for Memorial Day weekend -- people are banking on the State of Emergency being lifted by then. We were told after Memorial Day we could have our pick of campsites. We have no desire to hook up the trailer and move again so this site is where we will stay for the summer.

At a time when social distancing is becoming the norm, living at a campground will have some challenges. But we tend to be isolationists anyway. Anyone who knows King knows he's not the most friendly of people. It's not hard to keep up with the social distancing thing when 50 percent of us are not social. King's mother used to describe him as gregarious. I'm not certain that would be my first choice of words used to describe him.

So here we are in our new home, hunkering down for the summer. I plan on reading a lot, finishing an afghan I started last winter and sewing more face masks for friends and family. It has been suggested I could spend the summer decorating our new home. When we bought our Shasta in 2016 we basically tore it down to the studs (or whatever you want to call that flimsy wood they make trailer frames out of), repaired and replaced tired and worn out parts and I then repainted and  "glammed" up the inside. That's probably not going to happen with this one. We live in our trailer, full-time, along with our not-so-small dog. We camp, we don't stay at RV resorts. Where we are now is the closest we will get to a "resort." White walls and cute curtains are not really conducive to our dusty lifestyle. So I'm going to have to learn to embrace brown, which is what the inside of this trailer is. Brown. A lot of brown.  I may re-upholster the cushions and cornice boards but that's about it.

Anyway, people have been asking for photos of our new home. So here goes... It's a 1983 Fleetwood Wilderness. I apologize if the photos don't show up. My wireless connection is not the greatest.

There is a bed in the back. Obviously Cindy thinks it's hers. 

The galley area is small but serviceable. 

The table in front and the the cushions are in the lovely brown,
orange and beige colors of the 1980s.

T

Another view of the galley.

A fairly typical RV bathroom. Interesting thing
about this is the toilet paper roll is inside
the cabinet under the sink. The toilet sits
in front of it. One will have to plan ahead to
unroll the toilet paper before sitting down to
take care of business.

As an aside, our trip home was not a fun trip. We left on a Tuesday and arrived in Michigan late Thursday night. It was a lot of driving and included spending three hours outside of Tulsa getting a new fuel pump put on the truck. We are very grateful to the tow company and the mechanic who installed a new fuel pump in record time. However in the fixing of the fuel pump something got bumped or pulled under the hood and our "message center" is telling us we have no four-wheel-drive and the trailer brakes need servicing. Something to be added to our list of things to do. Not that our list is long. In fact, I think that is the only thing on the list.

 Driving across country during a  pandemic is interesting. Most people wore their masks. King and I did. We were also able to score some disinfectant wipes before we left California so we wiped down any of our purchases before using them. I give a lot of credit to the men and women who work at the gas stations and truck stops who have to deal with people from all over the country. Kudos to the truckers as well. Scary times.

Personally I think a prerequisite for every presidential candidate should be a cross country trip by car. Not a campaign trail, but an actual cross country trip where they pump their own gas; meet the cashiers who stand behind plastic shields; watch the farms roll by, and visit the tiny towns -- the ones without Wal-Marts and Costco. I think it would be good for them to really see how most Americans live. That's not a political comment, just an observation. Well, ok, maybe it is. I think too many politicians (from both parties) have lost touch with the people they serve.

Stay safe. Wash your hands. Don't touch your face. Wear a mask.

Where were you when the lights went out?

As I noted in my last post, memory is a fickle thing.

Take the title of this missive, "Where were you when the lights went out?"  It's the title of a Doris Day movie. But it was also a sentence we had to diagram in 8th grade English. Francis Folkert was our teacher. Oh the giggling and snickers that came whenever someone had to read that sentence.

So while I'm on a memories thread, I think I'll continue.

My daughter said a friend was documenting what her family was doing during the COVID-19 lockdown. It is an effort to help her children remember what was happening in the world in 2020.

It's a good idea. I know my mother lived through a scarlet fever epidemic sometime during her childhood. Her father and brother stayed in a tent outside the house so they could continue to milk the cows and sell the milk. Her mother boiled all their clothing and bedding ... daily. Mom said it was the fever that left her deaf, but I'm not even sure that's possible. That is how Mom remembered it, but we all know...memory is a fickle thing. I would like to know more about it. I wish Grandma had kept a journal. I wish I had asked Mom more questions. I wish I knew which brother was home during this time. Our stories. Our memories.

So here is my journal for the Coronavirus, 2020. I have to wonder if 20 years from now how obsolete this blogging technology will be. I'll have to print it out and place it in my old-fashioned journal. My bit for posterity.

We have been in California for the winter. Rather than travel with our travel trailer this year we drove here and left our little Shasta trailer in Michigan for our son. Once again he found himself homeless and needed a place to stay. I'll be honest -- social services and local churches are not equipped to help the mentally ill and homeless. Prayers and vouchers don't get very far. People simply don't understand and I become bitter when I read self-righteous,  idiotic comments on social media.

So...this winter we have been staying with our daughter outside of San Diego. We are working out a plan to try to get back to Michigan to pick up a 1983 trailer we purchased while we were here. We had good friends check it out for us. I'm looking forward to fixing up the inside of the trailer once we get back-- that is if we can get back to Michigan. Tentative plans call for our leaving next week. We will have to keep a weather eye on the news and see what happens. It does not look promising and may be postponed for a while. It is what it is.

California went on a state-wide lockdown March 19. Michigan followed suit on March 23. I've called ahead to see if motels are open along the route. Not surprising I get the same response, "We don't know what is going to happen." Hmmm. None of us do.

As of this writing 30 states are on lockdown. What that means depends on who you ask. Supposedly only "essential" businesses are to be open. Bars and restaurants have closed. Carry out and fast food are still available. But the definition of "essential" is up for interpretation. For instance, JoAnn Fabric is open in some states and some stores have been closed by order of state attorney generals in others. Technically they do provide an essential service as people have been reduced to making their own protective masks. Doctor offices are closed. My sister works at a breast center in Holland. It is open a half-day a week for mammograms. Grime-filled convenience stores are open as are grocery stores. Wal-Mart has just implemented a policy where customers wait in line outside (six feet apart) and a few people are allowed in at a time. People are hoarding toilet paper and hand sanitizer. While there is not a shortage of food, some items such as flour, yeast and eggs are hard to find. Some grocery stores have established senior citizen hours for shopping as people over the age of 65 are considered "high risk" for the Coronavirus, or COVID-19. The homeless, often noticed but not really seen, have become bolder and more prevalent.Their makeshift cardboard "homes" covered with sheets and plastic tarps fill alleys and other sheltered places. Panhandling, however, has all but stopped. Schools have closed -- some for the remainder of the school year, some until mid-April, although we suspect most will end up closing until next fall.

Our grandchildren in Michigan are among those who are finished going to school for the remainder of the school year. The state has established guidelines for "remote learning." Three of them attended Paw Paw Public Schools and two attend Grand Haven Public Schools, the youngest is in pre-school.

Our oldest grandson is an 8th grader at Paw Paw Middle School, he and his sister, who is in 6th grade are able to continue classes using their school-provided Chromebooks. Our grandson told me he starts his day by "checking my Chromebook for the newest homework while eating breakfast and lounging in my PJs. When I"m done, I play the Xbox or Nintendo switch." His sister said she was "doing my daily assignments, having lots of bored moments and baking a lot of desserts." (My kind of woman). Their younger brother is in 4th grade. When it was announced that school would be closed (at first for 3 weeks) the elementary teachers made work packets for all the students in grades K-5. There was a designated day for parents to come pick up the work which was 3 packets for each week they were out of school. He told me "I like to start my day with silent reading and then I do my work packet assignments. After that, I spend the day doing whatever I want." His mother told me he misses the social interaction of school the most. She gets them outside for exercise. Our son (their father) is considered "essential" and still is able to go to work.

In Grand Haven our granddaughters are in 4th and 1st grade, and pre-school. Our son, who is working from home now, said it is hard to keep them motivated/focused to do their school work. "It seems to get a littler harder each day." Now that the weather is getting warmer in Michigan I see a lot of videos of the girls tree-climbing, enjoying bonfires and interacting from across the street with a neighborhood friend.

I have a niece who teaches fourth grade in Spring Lake, Michigan. She tells me she uses an app called Seesaw. "I post generic assignments for them and they can make posts. Fortunately our math curriculum was partly online to begin with so math hasn't changed much. I did send home math packets too. For reading I have them go on scavenger hunts in their books -- yesterday was find a simile -- and post a picture of what they have found. Other times it will be something like a name a character trait or describe the problem." She noted for the first few weeks of the school closure she had not been teaching new content  (with the thought they would be going back to school in mid-April). Since schools in Michigan have closed permanently she said she knows that will change.

In California, our grandsons are in kindergarten. Their teacher does two hours of instruction each day via Zoon -- an hour in the morning and an hour in the afternoon. The woman is a saint. Can you imagine trying to teach kindergarten children via video? They wiggle -- a lot. In the morning they learn to write sentences and are given an assignment to work on between class times. This week is spring break so there are no classes. When they go back to "school" on Monday,  they will continue with what they are doing but teachers will be meeting for three weeks to discuss curriculum. They are being proactive in the event schools do close for the remainder of the school year. At the end of  the three weeks -- assuming schools have been closed -- classes will be taught online for a grade.

I listened in as the boys' teacher discussed the school district's plan with parents via Zoom. People tend to amaze me. Parents were complaining about the amount of "screen time" the children were having. Seriously? Ummm. These children are in kindergarten. They can't exactly read assignments and do them on their own. Sigh. People make me sad. And unfortunately classes have to be geared to the lowest common denominator, in this case it's the parents.

Our two oldest grandchildren are in the workforce. Our oldest lives in North Carolina. They are on lockdown as well, but she and her boyfriend continue to work -- both in the food service industry, which is considered "essential." The younger of the two, who graduated in 2018, works for a cleaning service and has been laid-off. Her boyfriend works in a factory that supplies medical equipment and  is still working.

The rest of us are reading, challenging people on social media to post photos, whining about people challenging people to post photos on social media, watching TV and Netflix series (The Tiger King is really popular. Gross... but I watched it, so what does that say?) I'm making face masks for law enforcement officers who, like the rest of us, can't get masks. One would think.... oh never mind.

From reading posts on social media I see many parents are concerned for their children. They (the children) are scared, confused, and worried. I wish there were words of wisdom to impart, but it all sounds like platitudes.

But all is not doom and gloom. The sun still rises brilliant orange and sets deep red. Rains come and water the newly-planted grass seed in the yard. I keep on King to please stop trimming the rose bushes long enough so we can get just one bloom. We keep busy. We do things. We plan for a future when life will get back to normal. Or we look for a new normal where, perhaps, consumerism doesn't run rampant and perhaps we start to look for simpler things in life.

I'd like to invite you to leave a comment on this post to let us know how you are spending your time during the COVID-19 lockdown. We are all in this together.

Stay safe. Stay home. Be sane.

The muse and day seven of mandatory social distancing

King and I are in California, which has been under "mandatory social distancing" for seven days. So far other than less traffic on the highways, there is not much difference. But then we aren't very social beings so it's hard to tell from our occasional trips to the pharmacy and grocery store.

There is something about the word "mandatory" that makes this feel different. It brings out the muse. So... here goes. It's been a while.

Ever hear the expression, "She has a mind like a steel trap? It means a person is able to grasp a concept quickly and retain the information. My mind is more like a fish trap. I can catch certain ideas but others slip through the net.

Memories are an example.

I can remember some individual high school assignments as if they were handed out yesterday. But the periodic table? That one slipped through that net like it was a minnow. And it's not just the all-important chemistry stuff I can't remember (that is a nod to my sister, the retired chemistry teacher), there are grammatical things that the writer in me refuses to retain. For instance I  know there is a time to use who and a time to use whom, but I have to look up which one to use when needed. Most of the time I will look for a different way to write a sentence rather than look it up. (My favorite line is 'Whom gives a damn?' and people are always correcting me for it. It is intentional). I also have to stop and think a second when it comes to multiplication. I will confess that most of the time I will use the calculator on my phone before adding things in my head but I can do it in a pinch.

But there are some grammatical things that have always been with me. Many were learned along the way because my mother was a stickler when it came to speaking. Mom would never allow us to use the word "ain't." We saw it, we never seen it -- unless we had seen  it. Main't (a contraction of may not) was a huge no no. And the West Michigan Dutch classic "yet too," was totally off limits.

When I was an exchange student in Finland I met a young French couple while camping in northern Finland. We were conversing in English when I asked them where they were from. (As in "Where are you from?") They were quite taken aback as I had ended a sentence with a preposition, I mean I supposedly spoke the language fluently and had just committed a great faux pas. I completely get it and I don't fault them in the least. But it does remind me of a joke I heard years ago...

A group of coeds from the north were traveling to the south for spring break. They stopped at a diner for lunch and when the waitress approached their table she smiled and said, "Hi there! Where are y'all from?" To which one of the coeds replied, "I am so tired of these backwoods people ending their sentences with a preposition." So the waitress corrected herself and said, "Hi There! Where y'all from, bitch?"

But back to my original point. I can recall my very first "news: article. It was for a high school Freshman English class. We were doing a mock radio station segment. The class divided into group and each group was required to create their own radio station -- complete with one news segment, one music segment and one ad. The group I was in chose the station's call letters as WHAM. (We lived in Hamilton, get it? So original). Any time we mentioned our call letters one of us crashed together the largest cymbals we could pilfer from the band room. (It paid to be a trustworthy band geek). My "news" article (ok, it was complete fiction) was a feature article -- a parody of the latest fashion -- hot pants. (Remember those?) Except I turned the tables and put the hot pants on the school's football team. Apparently even as a young teen I knew the inequities between the sexes.  I included quotes (fake of course) from teachers, fellow students and the assistant principal. For our ad segment we did a parody on Nair Hair Remover and suggested the school buy it by the case for the team because of their new uniforms. (Come to think of it now, basketball shorts back then were obscenely short. Hmmm). The presentations had to be 15 minutes in length so for music we chose the longest song we would find at the time, Simon and Garfunkel's The Boxer.  And here is a trivia fact: American Pie is three minutes longer than The Boxer. Alas, the assignment was made several years before American Pie was written.

So. Why can I remember things like an English assignment from 1971, but can't remember a phone number from the time I look it up (on my phone of course) to the time I have to dial it?

The mind remembers what it wants to remember.

Getting ready

Today is October 13. We are planning on hitting the road again the beginning of November. I have had a countdown on my phone set for November 1. But the interesting thing about being unencumbered is that is an approximate target.

It's a cloudy, rather blustery day. One of those days good for wandering around the countryside and exploring. It is something we used to do when I was a child with my parents. Sunday afternoons were spent driving around just looking at whatever suited us. It didn't matter if we were exploring frequently traveled roads... it was the joy of getting out and riding that made it all worthwhile. Dad would drive into the Allegan State Game area (which we always referred to as the Allegan Woods) and let my younger sister and I take turns driving on the dirt roads. Often our trips ended at the Saugatuck Drug Store where we would have cherry sodas or hot fudge sundaes. Dad said no one made their sodas like they did at the Saugatuck Drug store. We would then head home so Dad could watch a little golf, have a quick Sunday supper (Spam and cheese whiz on buns) and then head to church for the evening service.

The waves rolling in at South Beach

Golden Brown

So today I drove through South Haven -- ending up at the State Park (mostly because Cindy indicated she would not be able to make it back to the trailer without relieving herself). The waves are rolling in at the lake at the South Haven beaches and the last few weekend visitors are exploring the shops downtown. A few summers ago I worked at one of the shops downtown from July through
 December. The days went from busy-hectic to sometimes one or two customers the entire day. I give a lot of credit to those shop owners who remain open year-round. It shows a dedication to the year-round residents and gives a clear meaning to "shop local."

But it's time to move on. The furnace kicks on in the trailer with some frequency. It's time to wonder if our plumbing is going to freeze.  And most importantly King and our sons have just one more golf scramble (my daughters-in-law are sooooo happy -- and trust me. I get it). I have our route mapped out. I showed it to King yesterday. Since the trip planning I do ahead of time generally turns into mere suggestions it will be interesting to see what actually transpires. Weather, the reality of how many miles we can actually do in one day and being able to find cheap campsites all plays into our plans. I am bound and determined to see the World's Largest Ball of Twine this time. Unless it snows in Kansas once again.

It is a lifestyle that works for us for now. It may not always be so. There will probably come a day when we can no longer travel. That's why I left nine boxes of "things" in our son's shed. They aren't items of sentimental value, but rather things I will need if I ever move back into a house -- canning supplies, a blender, large baking pans (they won't fit in the trailer's oven) a juicer -- convenience items that I'm finding I can do without but will put to use someday should the need arise.

And speaking of modern conveniences ... We now have two convenience items in the trailer. A toaster which King purchased while I was in California visiting our daughter this summer (because he doesn't know how to grill bread in a pan) and a Magic Bullet mini blender (because when we have electricity I like to make smoothies). I have not, in fact, used the blender all summer but today I found a recipe for a smoothie that included the drink of the gods -- coffee. (It was not as good as it sounded. Ice cream would have made it better).

As I was doing dishes this afternoon I was thinking about something Mom once said to me, "I really think you were born in the wrong decade." She was referring to my propensity of doing a lot of things by hand and shunning some modern conveniences. (I have not gone the way of the Amish, I do like electricity, televisions, cell phones, computers, rock and roll and singing vulgar songs). But most of the time I have cooked from scratch, made my own jams and jellies and, yes ... my own ghee. I shunned preservatives long before it became popular among the millennials. Had I been able to sew better I would have made all my own clothes. I would have made a good June Cleaver -- to a point. I can't picture June Cleaver moving into 152-square-foot travel trailer and living happily ever after. That probably was not her style either. This is certainly not for everyone.

But it works for us. It is the adventure we have been looking for since trying to be normal back in 1976 when we got married.

Until next time. Be kind to one another. Think good thoughts. Look for rainbows.

Contentment

King and I are spending a few days at a little campground just off Highway 2 on the shores of Lake Michigan. We are somewhere between St. Ignace and Naubinway. (Although this will not be posted until we get somewhere with internet – as in back at our base camp).

When I say “just off Highway 2” I mean just that. The National Forest campground is on a thin strip of land between the highway and the lake. Although we are surrounded by trees we can still hear the highway to the east and the waves on the lake to the west. (I thought, since we were in the UP, it would be to the north and south, but the compass says the lake is still to our west). I can also hear drumming and chanting. At some point I may investigate, but not tonight. Tonight I’ll just relax in my home and watch the sunset through the trees that are bathing the trailer in hues of green. It’s like I’ve painted the inside of the trailer green. (Which I wanted to do, by the way, but King preferred blue. We choose our battles, right?).

Years and years ago King and I used to come here often during the summer for tent camping. But I think it’s been at least 13 years. This is our first experience staying in the luxury of our travel trailer. I use the term “luxury” loosely, our 40-year-old trailer is quite rustic by today’s modern trailer standards. I will confess I’m always looking at new trailers online but so far, I’ve never found anything as compact, yet open and airy at his one. We may be forced to upgrade at some point, and truth be told this trailer is as heavy as some of the newer gigantic trailers you see on the road today. At just 16 feet and 5000 pounds they don’t build them like this one any longer. Thank goodness for a big truck (that, unfortunately, eats gas like I eat cotton candy).

We spent the week before driving north camping at Van Buren State Park in South Haven. It’s been a Pure Michigan experience – warm weather, warm lake, cooling breezes and lots and lots of time spent in the water.

The grandchildren visited in waves.

First our son and his family spent five days with us and then our two older grandchildren and their children (yes, we are great-grandparents) joined us for cookouts a couple of evenings. We even had a great-grand-kitten visiting.

It was reminiscent of the days when we would descend on my parents at their home in Glenn. The difference being rather than songs and smores around the campfire we had smores and Harry Potter trivia contests. King was amazed (that’s sarcasm) at our knowledge. (What was Luna Lovegood’s Patronus? What was the third challenge to retrieve the Sorcerer’s stone)?

It was an idyllic week. We collected beach glass, we watched as the kids played with abandon in the waves, we looked for granite rocks I can polish in my rock tumbler. We painted smooth, flat stones and left them at various campsites for other campers to find. We bought fudge in town, visited the Maritime Museum in South Haven and traveled to Saugatuck to climb Mount Baldhead.

And then suddenly they were gone. Headed home to finish their fleeting summer vacation (and to take real showers in bathrooms without tree frogs on the wall).

Meanwhile King and I sat by the campfire and stared at each other. So, we packed up the trailer and headed north.

We still sit at the campfire and stare at each other, but in a few days we will be joining another son and his family who are traveling North for a short vacation as well.

For now we will enjoy our solitude in our own unique way. I suppose some couples still converse after 42 years, but that’s not our style. We sit in companionable silence. Or our conversations go something like this:
 “Are you hungry?”
 “Not really.”
 “I have chicken in the refrigerator that I have to cook.”
 “Go ahead and fix it. I’ll have a little I guess.”
 Long pause in which I doze off.
 “Are you going to fix it then?”
 “Yeah, I guess so. I’m adding vegetables to it.”
“I’ll pick them out.”

 So now, dinner is finished, dishes are washed and put away, and King is sleeping. He fell asleep watching the sun as it began to set. Cindy fell asleep next to me in the front of the trailer. She is snoring quietly.

This is contentment.