Have Fiddle, Will Travel #2: Home Again, Home Again...

HELLO, MY GATHER FRIENDS, I'm home from my week in Michigan. Last Friday I made merry with Mom, my sisters and brother, niece and nephews and their kids and a whole bunch of other family and friends at my niece's wedding and reception in Grand Rapids, Michigan. It was my first  Catholic wedding, though since my niece isn't Catholic, it was the condensed version, so I still haven't seen the real thing.  Mom and I fell apart when we heard the music; the last time we heard church music was at Dad's memorial service in June. In this confusion, my bro, mom and I made the gaffe of sitting on the groom's side of the aisle. My younger sister showed up after the ceremony, asking where we had been. She had come in late to the wedding and couldn't find us and thought we were even later than her. And she's the only one who isn't over 50 yet. Fortunately we all made it to the reception on time.

AT ANY RATE, THE BRIDE WAS BEAUTIFUL, the attendants and my mother-of-the-bride elder sister elegant, the relatives pleased, the food delicious and plentiful, there was enough beer and wine, and good times were had by all. I got to dance with my brother for the first time ever. And with the other wild women to the tune of "YMCA."A nice touch to the table decorations were old photos taken at my sister's wedding in 1972. My kids have the same haircut today that my brother had back then--bangs hanging in eyes, requiring a tossing back of this forelock when it's required to find one's way in the world. I looked pretty good back then, I thought, with my shag haircut, or was that a mullet? My sisters both had looong hair at that time.

I STAYED WITH MY MOM IN HER ROOM at her assisted living residence, this trip. I'm a light sleeper and Mom snores and has complicated conversations in her dreams, and her air conditioner was going most of the time, so earplugs saved the day (okay, night). Mom likes to stay up late and get up late, so we avoided breakfast every day and I lost some weight on this trip, which I'm not too devastated about. 

MOM IS IN THE EARLY STAGES OF ALZHEIMER'S. Life is getting confusing for her. Imagine waking up in a strange hotel room with your furniture in it every morning. Where strangers show up and urge you to take pills at odd hours, and insist on bringing you to a dining room where everyone has gray or white hair except the servers, and all of these are strangers, too, seem to know YOU even if you don't know them from Adam. And how do you get dressed in the morning when your clothes migrate to the bed, the bathroom, and the closet back again, never staying where you put them? Mom can't bear to leave clutter out on surfaces, so every time we left the room, we had to institute a search for her keys. The last time this happened, after searching everywhere we discovered them on the elastic cord around her wrist, where they're supposed to be, when she's out of her room. A dozen times a day, Mom wanted to call up my brother to ask him for money. She was alway sure there was none in her purse. So far Mom knows who I am, but since I may not be going back to Michigan for another six months, I may become one of her strangers, and not be able to stay in her room with her anymore. 

I WAS INVITED BY HANNO, a college and musician friend of mine to come to a contradance in Lansing on Saturday night. He and some members of my first Scandinavian band, Swedes for a Day, were slated to play some tunes during the break halfway through the dance. This was impossible for me to resist as I haven't seen these friends in years. I could leave after dinner with Mom, stay overnight with Hanno and Bonnie, possibly see my friends Kersti and Jurek the next day, and return in the afternoon.

IT WORKED OUT EVEN BETTER THAN I COULD HAVE PLANNED. The dance hall was pretty awesome--an auditorium in an old Methodist church built over a hundred years ago, just north of the Capital Building, with an arch over the stage and balcony around the room. Bonnie greeted me first off at the dance with a hug. I saw CLA, otherwise known as Cynthia Louise Ann, one of the Ann Sisters, across the room at the dance. I wasn't positive it was her until she pointed straight at me. The Ann Sisters used to work at Elderly Instruments (as did I) and CLA still works there. Elderly is the world's coolest music store, if you haven't heard of it. The fiddler in the band that was playing for the dance, Mike, used to play harmonica and fiddle and sing in my old-time band of the early eighties, Big Al and the Offenders. Guess who was Big Al. Well it was a misnomer because I was strictly second fiddle that time in all senses of the word, not the head honcho by any means, that was Mark. I just happened to be the smallest member of the band and the only female. It certainly was glorious to be in that position and I enjoyed it to the hilt, despite my lack of musicianship.

HANNO SHOWED UP A BIT LATER and Bonnie made him square dance with me (not that that was a problem). Marna from "Swede Potato and the Mashers" (formerly a Swede for a Day) stopped in after that and I got another hug and the set list for the Scandinavian tunes we were to play. What a blast. To be out in the middle of the dance floor, harmonizing with my former fellow musicians, as the dancers whirled around us. It can be a bit odd to see your friends after a lapse of some years. Marna with the shiny cap of dark hair has become Marna with long glorious white locks pulled back with a barrette. Mike with the wild black hair is now Mike with wild white hair. And so on. After we played on the dance floor, we returned to a side room to put away our instruments, but not until after I shared a favorite new tune with them, and they ordered three Clover Blossom Band CD's from me. 

AFTER THE DANCE, Hanno and Bonnie led the way to their house, and we met up with Mike, CLA, and the dance caller, Deborah, from Missouri. We ate Bonnie's peach pie, which was CLA's birthday cake, drank Hanno's bitter coffee (well okay I knew what was coming so I had some tea first) and talked till 2 in the morning. They caught me up on how the multitudes of employees and musicians and dancers were doing since my husband and I had left Michigan in 1984. You can understand why we were up until 2 a.m. Finally we crashed. I got to sleep in Hanno's music room on an air mattress under a closed window which was pouring a river of cold air over me. Fortunately I had a hooded sweater to protect my ears from frostbite.

IN THE MORNING we all (Hanno, Bonnie, Deborah and I) went out to eat at the Jukebox Cafe on Grand River. After a fine fulfilling breakfast and talk and show-and-tell of of knitting projects and things historical, feeling extremely aged  among the unlined, though dyed youth of MSU, we headed back to H & B's. I was able to connected with friends Kersti and Jurek, who were fortunately home that day, not out hiking around in the wilds of Northern Michigan. Kersti was my Swedish tutor back in 1977. Now we are poetry friends and sister celiac ranters and ravers. It was Kersti who helped me get my son diagnosed in 2002. But first Hanno and I had to play a few more tunes together on his front porch. Then it was time to get lost on my way to Kersti and Jurek's, but fortunately their condo wasn't too far from where I sat confused in my car, so Jurek could talk me there and then wave me down.

WE HAD A GREAT 1 1/2-HOUR VISIT. We had some tea and snacks as we discussed our latest family news. Kersti read me her newest poems and part of a prose piece about her Swedish dad, and I got to see her writing room and look at all her favorite poetry books. We all took some pictures of each other with Jurek's camera, out in the fenced-in garden behind their condo, which is like a little paradise with impatiens flowers and lovely ferns and bushes. Then it was time for Kersti to rush off to her poetry group and for me to head back to Grand Rapids on the officially 70, but truly 80 mph freeways, ugh! But at least I was flying along on happy memories....with an eye to the road.

I SPENT THE REST OF THE DAY, evening and next morning with Mom, having dinner, looking at old photos, and lunch with her Monday before meeting up with my elder sister for a little trip to Rockford. That is a quaint riverside town with a nineteenth-century flavor. We walked around exploring the Wolverine shoe outlet, antique shops, boutiques and consignment store, lusting after garb that we didn't buy. From there we went back to GR and stopped in at TJ Maxx. Sis looked at all the purses and we tried on a million shoes, but again, no purchases. I wondered what she would do with another purse, but she guiltily admitted, "purses, shoes, clothes, I love them all!"

THAT NIGHT MY BROTHER CAME OVER to play games with Mom and me. Though Mom had a little difficulty remembering the rules to Crazy Eights and Rummy, with a little reminding she got right into it, and won Rummy. Then we played Upword, which is basically Scrabble in which you can build new words with tiles on top of the words already laid down. That was a little more confusing for her, but still doable. The longer the games go on the more points you make by building upwards, so after a slow start I pulled ahead and won the game. Despite Bro's strong start, he and Mom were tied losers.

TUESDAY WAS MY DEPARTURE DAY. Elder Sis had to come by and restore to me my glasses case, which I had left in her car. Then she and Mom walked me down the five hallways to the front door from Mom's room. I hugged them both, Mom extra long, and they waved to me as I left. I love that we have always done this in our family. I remember my grandparents wavin from their front doors as a kid, and our waving to them from our front door after a visit. There is just nothing like it when you have to leave someone and a little piece of your heart behind.

I FOUND MY WAY TO GERALD R. FORD INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT, returned my rental car, and checked into my flight. I had some time before takeoff, so ater an hour of writing in my journal at a table near the gift shope, Li'l Sis met me to walk around the airport. It's not much in the way of size, but I had been on flights with Gerald R. Ford and Edgar Winter as they flew in or out for their visits or engagements (though completely oblivious to their presence while on the planes), so apparently Grand Rapids is more than just a spot on a map, despite its lack of reputation for anything other than its thrifty Dutch population.

MY RETURN TRIP TO CHICAGO AND THEN SEATTLE on Alaskan Airlines was fairly uneventful, though as during my outward flight, I had three gate changes to pursue, all in different spokes on the wheel of O'Hare Airport, so I definitely got my aerobic workout. Though I considered it, I didn't have the courage to work out my upper body by pumping my fiddle case over my head, as my youngest used to do in Harmony Preschool before taking his tiny violin out of its case. The case is pretty heavy, though, so I got a shoulder workout nevertheless. I still had snack food left from my outgoing flight, so I wasn't forced to buy a meal anywhere. I always travel with my own gluten-free food. I did enjoy the quiet time on the airplane reading almost the whole of an entertaining paperback, The Seventh Unicorn, by Kelly Jones, a good fluffy historical novel centered around medieval tapestries, with intrigue and romance, though not much suspense. The baggage came in on time at Seatac, I caught the next bus to Seattle, and made a timely connection with the ferry. All of these were unusual in their uneventfulness. Hubby was late picking me up on Bainbridge Island because of a deluge over Paulsbo, the remnants of which we drove through on our way home. There I was greeted by a counter full of dirty dishes and an overflowing basket of laundry--still less than other times. The teens were already in bed.

HAVING JUST FINISHED UNPACKING, getting the laundry done and kitchen cleaned, I'm now packing again for a trip to Eastern Washington this weekend. My band, the Clover Blossom Band will be performing in Kennewick at the Nordic Festival. If you're around, stop by and say hi.......