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This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License
In lieu of my vacation, here’s a rerun
I’m on my way to Door County, so here’s a rerun of when we went to Holcombe, Wisconsin in August of 2005 for a vacation to my uncle’s place on the lake. We took the pontoon boat out, because he told me in his list of instructions that the “boat key is in the silverware drawer”.
The Boat
So, didn’t my uncle tell me where the keys to the boat was? Yes, he did. He said, “The keys to the boat are in the silverware drawer.” And sure enough, they were in the silverware drawer.
If the owner of the boat told you that you the keys to the boat were in the silverware drawer, wouldn’t you take that to mean it was okay for you to take the boat out? Yes? That’s what I thought too.
Thursday morning came. We woke up and headed down to the boathouse. The last time I was at the lake, there wasn’t a boathouse. This was new. My grandpa (that’d be Leonard), bought the land about 30+ years ago, and he only put in a pier. Everyone docked their boat at the pier. There was grandpa’s pontoon boat, and usually my dad’s fishing boat, and then the odd small boat that one of the grandkids used. There wasn’t a need for a boathouse.
Well, my Uncle Mack bought the property from my grandpa about 4 years ago. Since then he’s put in a huge garage (currently housing five lawn mowers, who in the hell needs five lawn mowers???) and a boathouse.
So back to Thursday morning. We get down to the boathouse, and find the pontoon boat inside, and it’s hooked up to an electric winch system (that’s technical for a cable system to raise and lower the boat into the lake). Of course, I didn’t have a clue about it, but Hubby knew exactly what it was, and he knew how to work it. We got the boat down into the water, but we lowered it really slowly because we wanted to be careful. All of a sudden Hubby noticed that it smelled like something was on fire, and the winch motor was hot to the touch.
We shut it off, unplugged it and let it be. Of course, I was freaking out thinking that we broke it, and one of us would have to drive to the nearest Sears (about 45 miles away) to get a replacement.
After allowing it to cool down, we were able to pull the boat trailer back up into the house. We noticed that the cable was unraveled in one spot, and that was most likely what was stressing the motor out. We agreed that we were going to leave the boat docked to the pier until the very last day, so we’d only have to use the winch one more time.
That night, we were relaxing by the campfire, getting ready to roast marshmallows, when Uncle Mack called to see how things were going.
Me: Fine.
Mack: Did you find everything okay?
Me: Yep. We want to know what kind of gas the pontoon boat takes.
Mack: The. Pontoon. Boat. (long pause) Ummmm, well. Not a good idea. It’s tricky to get in and out.
Me: (no kidding)
Mack: So I’d appreciate it if you don’t take out the pontoon boat.
Me: Oh sure, not a problem, we won’t use it then.
Crap.
As soon as I hung up the phone I told Hubby that we needed to get that pontoon boat back into the boathouse. PRONTO! Especially before any neighbors arrive for the weekend, and tattle on me to my Uncle Mack.
There I was, 36 years old, and freaking out that I had taken the pontoon boat out when I wasn’t supposed to. All we needed to do was pull it back up into the boathouse. That’s it. That’s all we needed to do. I can’t remember a time I’d been more stressed out though.
Hubby changed into his swimming suit, and then we headed down to the boathouse.
He got into the water, as I untied all the ropes from the pier and led the boat over to him. Then I very carefully lowered the boat trailer into the lake, being very careful not to let the motor get hot again. Hubby got the boat onto the trailer, stuck the pin in place, and then we started pulling her up.
I swear to God, I was so nervous that something was going to break! That something was going to go wrong, but nothing did.
When I noted that it was actually going pretty easy, he turned to me and said, “I’ve raised a pontoon boat out of the lake every day of my summer life from the age of 12 to 18. I did it in the rain, in the dark, and even drunk.”
How could I forget that all his summers spent on the pontoon boat? He’s told me time and time again that he’d take the boat out in the morning with his friends, and they’d spend all day in the middle of the lake with it, and they’d come home after dark. How could I forget?
Well, once again, my hero saved the day! He put the boat away, we put the key back in the top secret hiding place, and then we roasted marshmallows over the campfire.
Who would have thought?
It was just another Monday. I came to work, turned on my computer, got a cup of coffee, sat at my desk …. and then my dad came into my cubby.
Holy cow. He shaved his beard and moustache off. I haven’t seen him without facial hair for about 30 years.
He looks EXACTLY like my grandfather, Leonard.
You would think that would bring me great comfort, and remind me of what a wonderful person he was to me. Instead, it’s made me an emotional wreck.
It was after lunch, and my father and I were out on the shop floor, troubleshooting a computer problem in which our employees aren’t able to document their time properly. Machines are running all around us. Employees, oblivious to my emotions, are busy working.
And that’s when it happened.
I started to bawl.
I was looking at my dad, but I didn’t see him, I saw Leonard. It was my dad’s voice, it was Leonard’s face. So many times I’ve dreamed that he was there, talking to me, and this time it was real, but it wasn’t. It was my dad, without a beard, but it was my grandpa back from the dead. Does that make any sense?
I had to explain my outburst of emotions and said something like ‘you just look so much like him and I miss him so much’.
Leonard used to call me Baby. And that’s what I feel like right now, a great big baby.
je suis (sad) quand
My daughter came home today with a picture in her backpack. The paper said “Je suis ____ quand….” at the top and a little sad face, and she needed to draw when she is/was sad.
I couldn’t quite figure out what the picture was, the big white space in the green had me confused. Zoe told us that it was a picture of my grandpa, the one that died. Now, my husband and I looked at each other across the table. I’m not sure what he was thinking, but I was thinking, “All of our grandfathers are dead, who does she mean?”
My husband and I thought for sure she meant Grampy, my maternal grandfather, the two of them were very close. But when he asked her if Grammy takes her to the cemetary ever she said no. Then it came to me, she means Leonard. Her and I were at the cemetary together in September after Freckles daughter’s birthday party. We were only there for a few minutes, and I don’t think we ever talked about it afterward, so I was surprised that she drew the picture that she did.
Before bed, I looked at the picture again, because I just couldn’t figure out what the heart meant on it. I asked Zoe, and she said, “it’s the crying heart mom, you know the one with the tears.”
My gosh, she’s right.
At the stroke of midnight
We had plans for the New Year’s to stay home, have a pizza party, drink expensive wine out of my new wine carafe, make ice cream sundaes, and play Jr. Clue, Trouble, and maybe some Scrabble. In the middle of pizza my brother called to ask if we wanted to come over to his house. Our parents would be there, there was lots of food, and wine, and he assured me that there would be board games.
We played a few games of dominoes, which I’m not sure is the original game of dominoes because I don’t recall there being little train tokens in dominoes. Next we played Apples to Apples. Have you heard of this game? It’s so fun!
The games wrapped up around 11:45 p.m. and while the champagne was being opened, the cards were being faced and put away, and the dog was being walked, I decided to check my email. The countdown had begun just as I opened my comments from my Question of the Day blog: 10, 9, 8 …. “Indigo, your stories about your grandfather sure remind me of a Leonard that my wife and I met. I cannot help but wonder if he is one and the same person.” 3, 2, 1.
I never in my life thought that someone, other than family, would read my blog and then actually know Leonard in real life. I emailed this commenter, Bubba, and he answered all the questions correctly. My Leonard is his Leonard. What are the chances of that?
I shouldn’t be too surprised actually, Leonard moved around a lot. He was a traveller. He once was headed out to New York to see on of my uncles, yet he ended up in California on the doorstep of his Milwaukee neighbor’s son. This was normal behavior for him. He rarely slept, and he’d go for long drives in the middle of the night to fill the car up with the gas that was $0.05 less in the next county over.
Anyhow, what a great way to ring in the new year, with a small tap on my shoulder from Leonard, through Bubba of course. It was just last week, as my husband and I were walking through the parking lot at Christmas Eve mass that my husband pointed out to me that this was the very place he met Leonard for the very first time as he attempted to release him from my car when the seatbelt was stuck. On that day we were celebrating my grandparent’s 50th wedding anniversary, which also happened to be December 31st.
First day of school
Tomorrow is Zoe’s first day of school. I can’t believe it’s been a whole year since her last first day of school! It seems so long ago, yet not so long ago at all. Her school supplies are all ready to go, and she’s so cute because she insisted on sleeping on her nap mat tonight. She’s on the floor in her bedroom, with her little naptime pillow, and her little naptime mat, and her blankie. The blankie never changes, it’s the quilt that I made for her while I was on maternity leave. She’s taking it to school again with her this year, and that makes me nervous because there is always the chance that it might not make it home at the end of the school year. I’m not sure who would cry more if that were to happen, me or Zoe.
On Sunday Zoe and I went to a friend’s birthday party. Zoe was so excited to get all dressed up for the party, and to wrap the present for the Birthday Girl, as well as make her a birthday card. She wrote out “Happy Birthday Birthday Girl” and then signed it “Zoe and Mom”. Which was adorable because I’m not the Birthday Girl’s mom.
After the birthday party, Zoe and I went to visit Leonard’s grave. The cemetary was only three blocks away from my friend’s house, and figured that now was as good a time as any to stop by for a visit. It’s been almost four years since he died, and I’ve only visited him once. The last time he didn’t have a headstone, so I really wasn’t even sure I was visiting him, or if I was visiting someone else, or just a patch of dirt. This time he had a headstone, so I knew I was in the right spot. He’s gotten a lot of neighbors in the past four years. I hope they are all getting along, and no one is following him, or pestering him. And I sure as hell hope he’s behaving himself! He can get a little out of hand at times.
I had a dream about him the other day. I can’t remember what it was about now, but I vaguely remember he was there. Do you think that when you dream about people who have died, that is a sign that they’ve come to visit you?
kay, how did that happen? I started out with Zoe’s first day of school, and ended up with Leonard????? (if you don’t know who Leonard is, you can read about him in the links on the right side of my blog)
Leonard’s Rock
My dad and his four brothers go deer hunting every year up north, at my uncle’s property, which is near where, Leonard, my grandfather’s summer home is. This is the place that I spent much of my time as a kid, playing on the lake, and played with all my cousins. It is the place where together as a family, we sat around the campfire and toasted marshmallows every night. It is the place that my Hubby (pre-Hubby at the time) pulled Tiberius the Rock out of the lake. And, it was also the place we vacationed to in August, you remember, the one where I wasn’t supposed to take the boat out, but I didn’t know that ……
Anyhow. Dad went deer hunting, and I called him on his cellphone and asked if he’d go to grandpa’s and bring me back a rock to put on his grave. I think Leonard would appreciate it. Up north was a place he loved to be, and if I can bring a small piece of it to him, here, in Milwaukee, then I will.
So, today I came into work and there is my rock, sitting on my desk. I’ve got to say, it’s probably one of the coolest rocks I’ve seen in a while. My dad did an awesome job picking out a rock. He got it from underneath the trailer, so chances are that this rock is original to the property and not something that one of the grandkids hauled up from out of state and left behind. But honestly, who knows. Sadly, rocks do not come with tracking devices. This weekend I will place Leonard’s Up North Rock, on his headstone.
My husband’s grandfather died only 15 months ago, quite unexpectantly. He was a rather private person spiritually speaking, and grandma knew he wouldn’t want a funeral, or to be buried. Well, seeing as he used to be the mayor of the city, not having a funeral was not an option. The public was waiting. The casket was only open for the family, and then was closed when the public arrived. His body was cremated, and the whereabouts of his ashes are unknown to myself, and my husband.
I don’t know how I’d feel if it were Leonard, and I had no place to put this rock. Do you know what I mean?
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