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offcntrOur trip to the midwest had only one fixed point: a wedding reception for my oldest brother, David, and his new wife Charlotte on Saturday, May 6. We were flying into Minneapolis, renting a car, and driving to the family farm in central Wisconsin, where we'd collect my mother, take her down to the Milwaukee suburbs to attend the party and visit her brother, bring her back home, then drive back to the Twin Cities and fly home again. I'd done everything possible to make it easy: booked a hotel in Brookfield for Friday and Saturday night, so we could break up the driving and arrive rested. Specifically selected a room designed for handicapped access. The rental company even cooperated, upgrading us without asking to a rather nice Toyota Siena minivan (hybrid, no less). And I had no idea if it would actually happen.
Right up to the day before we flew out, my mother was still resistant. She'd have to bring her walker, and the toilet seat booster, and her knee wasn't good, and sitting in the car all day and... Maybe she could ride down and back with my older brother and his wife, or stay with my younger brother, in Menasha or any number of possibilities that had my head spinning. So even though we had a whole week in the Midwest, Tuesday to Tuesday, and I have any number of friends in the Cities we could have connected with, I just. Couldn't. No room for planning left in my poor brain.
As it turned out, two things conspired to make the plan actually happen. First, she saw her doctor on Tuesday, got cortisone shots in both knees, which left a bruise (she showed it to us several times), but meant she was much more mobile, either with cane or walker. Second, my next older brother, Tony, had a few words: Frank and Denise went to a lot of trouble to do this for you. You should really let them give you this. Bless him, it worked.
So we picked her up late morning Friday, found her already packed and ready. Drove down to Milwaukee, getting some new stories as we traveled. US 10 from Neillsville passes by my late step-father's siblings, so their homes (and current attitudes and relationships) got a telling. Plover, where we stopped for gas, was where he'd lived with his first wife, and I think it was her first time back since he died. On the interstate, we spotted out-of-state license plates while Denise read in the back seat. I learned about borrow pits--the ponds you'll see every few miles along the freeway, where they dug up sand and gravel for the highway. (Iyron was a heavy equipment operator on that particular stretch of I-39).
We got into Brookfield around supper, tired, a little cranky, and hungry, having missed lunch. Didn't have the spoons to join a big pre-party dinner at a local Italian place, so I tracked down fish sandwiches (though, sadly, no sweet potato fries) and we ate in the room. Had a little difficulty with the hotel's definition of "accessible." Though the bathroom was big, with grab bars and a wheel-chair accessible shower with fold-down chair, the bed was a standard hotel model. Very high box spring, with even thicker mattress. Mom literally couldn't get into bed. I shared the problem with the manager, who was able to find a folding two-step stool in the breakfast bar that he loaned us for the weekend. It was still a challenge getting it in the perfect spot to use, and I caught her on a slide to the floor once, but we managed.
The next day dawned a little cool and gray, so I traded my Hawaiian shirt (they'd gotten married on Oahu) for a flannel, and Denise guided us over to the house. David's son and daughter-in-law met us at the driveway with hugs and directions to the backyard, where they'd set up a big tent full of family, friends and co-workers. Charlotte's brothers and sisters came from as far afield as Tennessee, West Virginia, Ohio and Michigan, and her daughters, grand and great-grandchildren were all in attendance. It was a big, boisterous crowd, and I probably retained about three or four names in total. Hoping to get a wedding picture with captions at some point.
Mom got so many hugs, got to meet her new great and great-great grandkids, and marveled that nobody was fighting. (Which says a lot about her family, I guess?) The food was fabulous, David found a rib place that could do soul food, so we had fried chicken, brisket, pulled pork, mac & cheese, beans, cornbread and collard greens. Plus many kinds of cake and cheesecake and Mom brought a potica, so the Slovenians were represented.
All of the brothers made it down, though I just realize Val is nowhere to be found in the photos, the turkey. Party broke up a little after five, and we rolled back to the hotel, skipping supper.
Sunday morning we breakfasted in the room again, then found the nearest Catholic church for mass (I suggested Denise's home church, Brookfield Lutheran, and was scowled down). As it happens, we were there for First Communion, so got to see fifteen little ones in best suits and dresses, hair slicked back, get their initiation. Kinda adorable.
After church, we made our way one suburb east, to West Allis, where my Uncle Franklin lives. He's 100 years old, still living at home, probably more mobile than I am. He's also sharp as a tack, reads the Milwaukee Journal and has thoughts about what he reads. Seeing him explain the post-pandemic labor shortage to my mother (Who said, Nobody wants to work anymore) was a thing of beauty.
He also shared pics of grand and great-grandkids, told us about his neighbors, asked us about our lives, and was generally delightful. Said how much he appreciated our annual Christmas letter, which was nice--I always feel like I'm intruding, a little. And my cousin Dennis managed to drop by for a bit, after his grandson's little league game.
We left around five, had another round of fish sandwiches (Mom likes them because it's something she doesn't make at home), and hit the road. Got back to Willard around 9 pm, turned down a late supper, and stumbled down to Tony's for bed. All in all, a successful excursion, not the least because it gave Tony and Cindy a weekend where they weren't responsible. Living across the road, they're on the front line for grocery runs and doctor visits, so they got to sleep in, go fishing, and sit around the fire pit watching fireflies.
Right up to the day before we flew out, my mother was still resistant. She'd have to bring her walker, and the toilet seat booster, and her knee wasn't good, and sitting in the car all day and... Maybe she could ride down and back with my older brother and his wife, or stay with my younger brother, in Menasha or any number of possibilities that had my head spinning. So even though we had a whole week in the Midwest, Tuesday to Tuesday, and I have any number of friends in the Cities we could have connected with, I just. Couldn't. No room for planning left in my poor brain.
As it turned out, two things conspired to make the plan actually happen. First, she saw her doctor on Tuesday, got cortisone shots in both knees, which left a bruise (she showed it to us several times), but meant she was much more mobile, either with cane or walker. Second, my next older brother, Tony, had a few words: Frank and Denise went to a lot of trouble to do this for you. You should really let them give you this. Bless him, it worked.
So we picked her up late morning Friday, found her already packed and ready. Drove down to Milwaukee, getting some new stories as we traveled. US 10 from Neillsville passes by my late step-father's siblings, so their homes (and current attitudes and relationships) got a telling. Plover, where we stopped for gas, was where he'd lived with his first wife, and I think it was her first time back since he died. On the interstate, we spotted out-of-state license plates while Denise read in the back seat. I learned about borrow pits--the ponds you'll see every few miles along the freeway, where they dug up sand and gravel for the highway. (Iyron was a heavy equipment operator on that particular stretch of I-39).
We got into Brookfield around supper, tired, a little cranky, and hungry, having missed lunch. Didn't have the spoons to join a big pre-party dinner at a local Italian place, so I tracked down fish sandwiches (though, sadly, no sweet potato fries) and we ate in the room. Had a little difficulty with the hotel's definition of "accessible." Though the bathroom was big, with grab bars and a wheel-chair accessible shower with fold-down chair, the bed was a standard hotel model. Very high box spring, with even thicker mattress. Mom literally couldn't get into bed. I shared the problem with the manager, who was able to find a folding two-step stool in the breakfast bar that he loaned us for the weekend. It was still a challenge getting it in the perfect spot to use, and I caught her on a slide to the floor once, but we managed.
The next day dawned a little cool and gray, so I traded my Hawaiian shirt (they'd gotten married on Oahu) for a flannel, and Denise guided us over to the house. David's son and daughter-in-law met us at the driveway with hugs and directions to the backyard, where they'd set up a big tent full of family, friends and co-workers. Charlotte's brothers and sisters came from as far afield as Tennessee, West Virginia, Ohio and Michigan, and her daughters, grand and great-grandchildren were all in attendance. It was a big, boisterous crowd, and I probably retained about three or four names in total. Hoping to get a wedding picture with captions at some point.
Mom got so many hugs, got to meet her new great and great-great grandkids, and marveled that nobody was fighting. (Which says a lot about her family, I guess?) The food was fabulous, David found a rib place that could do soul food, so we had fried chicken, brisket, pulled pork, mac & cheese, beans, cornbread and collard greens. Plus many kinds of cake and cheesecake and Mom brought a potica, so the Slovenians were represented.
All of the brothers made it down, though I just realize Val is nowhere to be found in the photos, the turkey. Party broke up a little after five, and we rolled back to the hotel, skipping supper.
Sunday morning we breakfasted in the room again, then found the nearest Catholic church for mass (I suggested Denise's home church, Brookfield Lutheran, and was scowled down). As it happens, we were there for First Communion, so got to see fifteen little ones in best suits and dresses, hair slicked back, get their initiation. Kinda adorable.
After church, we made our way one suburb east, to West Allis, where my Uncle Franklin lives. He's 100 years old, still living at home, probably more mobile than I am. He's also sharp as a tack, reads the Milwaukee Journal and has thoughts about what he reads. Seeing him explain the post-pandemic labor shortage to my mother (Who said, Nobody wants to work anymore) was a thing of beauty.
He also shared pics of grand and great-grandkids, told us about his neighbors, asked us about our lives, and was generally delightful. Said how much he appreciated our annual Christmas letter, which was nice--I always feel like I'm intruding, a little. And my cousin Dennis managed to drop by for a bit, after his grandson's little league game.
We left around five, had another round of fish sandwiches (Mom likes them because it's something she doesn't make at home), and hit the road. Got back to Willard around 9 pm, turned down a late supper, and stumbled down to Tony's for bed. All in all, a successful excursion, not the least because it gave Tony and Cindy a weekend where they weren't responsible. Living across the road, they're on the front line for grocery runs and doctor visits, so they got to sleep in, go fishing, and sit around the fire pit watching fireflies.
no subject
Date: 2023-05-20 09:33 pm (UTC)