I've always looked upon my trip to Ireland as a turning point in my life. I travelled to Ireland alone. Successfully completing that trip gave me a boost in confidence that I have carried with me.
My senior year in college I spent a trimester in Europe. My college was Augustana College in Rock Island, Illinois. Every fall they would have a group of students travel abroad in a group with Augustana professors who would teach courses to the students who were travelling. We went in a group and spent five weeks in London, England; two weeks in Strasbourg, France; three weeks in Munich, Germany and a week in middle to travel on our own. Through a quirk in my schedule one week in London I had no classes after noon on Tuesday. This gave me almost a week to travel. No one else had the same quirk I did, so I was on my own. I decided to go to Ireland. It is the land of my ancestors - all of them according to my dad; a lot of them according to the rest of the family. I spent Tuesday afternoon travelling by train to the coast and then taking a hydrofoil across the Irish Sea to Dublin with no problems, except that I realized I had left my jacket in London. I'd like to tell you about three of the people of Ireland; how I met them and what they did for me. I spent a night at a youth hostel in Cork. The next day I made my way to Blarney Castle. (Yep, I kissed the Blarney Stone.) From there I was going to go to Kilarney. I started walking the road to Kilarney and putting out my thumb whenever any vehicles would pass by to try and hitch a ride. I walked. And I walked. The few cars that were on this road weren't picking up hitchhikers. I was enjoying the walk. But after several hours, I was beginning to get a discouraged. Suddenly I saw a bunch of cars coming my way led by a small station wagon. Hooray! Maybe one of these cars would stop for me. Things were about to improve. I turned and walking backwards held out my thumb. Now, to be fair, cars in Europe were a bit smaller than American cars. So, misidentifying a car on first glance wasn't my fault. When the cars got a bit closer, I realized that the station wagon was really a hearse. Oops. My thumb quickly came down and I turned around. I was mortified. Sometimes I wonder if in the pub that night they were talking about the American who was trying to hitch a ride to heaven. About an hour later a car stopped to pick me up. It was a priest who was going all the way to Kilarney. He said he could drop me off at the youth hostel there. We had a nice talk on the drive there. He asked me what I thought about Ted Kennedy's chances of becoming president; this was back in the early 1980's. It was only years later that I realized he was probably the priest from the funeral procession. When I left Kilarney the weather was nasty; it was windy with rain trying to decide between misting and drizzling. The train station was small, which meant everybody was waiting outside under an awning that stopped only rain that fell straight down. I stood on the platform with the wind blowing right through my sweater missing my jacket and feeling uncomfortable. An older woman on the platform with a couple companions left them and walked over to me. "Don't you have a coat?" She asked me. I explained that I had left it in London. "You'll be taking my extra then." She pulled a clear plastic rain coat out of her bag and gave it to me. Thanking her I put it on. It was several sizes too small. The sleeves ended midway between my elbows and wrists and I could only pull it closed to two of the snaps in the front. But it shielded me from the wind and wet. Later, on the train I tried to give the coat back to her, but she wouldn't take it. I took the train to Kilkenny. Prior to my trip, I had been leafing through a book that listed all the youth hostels in Europe. I had seen a listing for Foulksrath Castle in Ireland. I decided if I could I would like to spend the night in a castle if I had a chance. I started walking and putting out my thumb. I was a bit luckier this time and got picked up quickly. I got in the car and the man who was driving asked me where I was going. I told him about the youth hostel and that I wasn't sure of the exact location. "Ahh yes, I know the place. I'll take you there. But would you'd be liking to see a bit of the area first?" I said yes and was given a scenic tour. He drove me to several spots with views of the countryside. At this time of year in Minnesota, the leaves would be falling off the trees and the green colors of nature would have faded. In Ireland, the greens were vibrant as if it were springtime. We talked as he drove. I told him about the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday in America. He asked me about Ted Kennedy's chances for the presidency. Eventually we made it to the youth hostel where he dropped me off. I had traveled to Ireland and back to London. That trip gave me confidence in myself and my ability to make my way in the world. But of course, I wasn't really alone; the Irish people were there with me.
0 Comments
My daughter and father-in-law used to play April Fool’s tricks on each other. It was all in good fun, something we laugh and tell stories about. Alicia started it one year by telling her Grandpa that his truck in the driveway had a flat tire. He went running out to the driveway. Alicia followed so she could say, “April Fools” at the right moment. The next year Alicia was told the wheel of her bike had fallen off.
The culmination of these tricks was a grand performance by Alicia. It was on a Sunday after we had been to church. We were going to stop in to see Grandpa Jim and Grandma Bub. While the rest of us waited in the car Alicia went up to the house. She arrived breathlessly showing up at his door claiming, “my parents left me at church.” She told them we thought she was going home with a friend, but her friend had already left. So, we had left without her. She had run all the way to their house. Chaos ensued or so I have been told. Alicia waited until they had picked up the phone to call us before saying, “April Fools!” I am reminded of the story in chapter 22 of Genesis. You remember this story. God asks Abraham to sacrifice Isaac. Abraham obeys and at the point where he is about to kill his son an angel stops him. Because Abraham obeyed God he is given many blessings. Abraham loved God so much that he was willing to sacrifice his son. I remember the first time I heard this story, sitting towards the back of St. Bonaventure in Bloomington. I was horrified that God would do that. I mean asking someone to kill another person. And then, stopping them at the last possible instant? God and Abraham, this had to be the worst April Fool’s joke ever. Can you imagine Isaac sharing a laugh later with his dad about the time he was going to slit his throat? How could God do that? And what sort of parent would send their own child to die? Wouldn’t that be the hardest thing imaginable? There is a literary technique called foreshadowing. It can mirror something that happens later in the story. The best ones also give some understanding of the events to come. You’ve probably heard the Bible described as the greatest literature ever. Well the story of Abraham sacrificing his son has to be the greatest foreshadow ever. God, the Father, sends his son to earth to be sacrificed. It was a hard thing to do. But, because God’s love for us is so strong, because He wants us to be in heaven and not separated from Him due to our sins, Jesus is sent to die for us. This is the blog post that I had intended to write last week for Valentine’s Day before I got sick. When the final stage of Debbie’s battle with breast cancer started we didn’t realize it. The valentine I wrote about last week (http://www.timkwrites.com/blog/a-valentine-at-last6034764) was the last valentine I gave her. While Debbie couldn't get me a valentine at that time she has been sending me valentines since then. That summer my daughter’s boyfriend was visiting and as he had never seen Lake Superior before we decided to take him to Minnesota’s North Shore to see it. The loss of Debbie still weighed heavily upon me. It was hard to believe that she was gone. Most places on the North Shore have memories for me of being there with Debbie. Debbie loved the North Shore, it is where she seemed most able to relax. She loved the different hikes, looking for rocks on beaches, and eating good food. One time we were on a beach and I found a stone that was shaped like the top of a tulip flower. I spent a bit of time looking and eventually I was able to find an oval stone that was colored green that I could use as a stem. Later, when we were home and Debbie was getting ready for the start of the upcoming school year on a day when I usually would give her flowers I put the two stones together and gave her a rock flower. On our trip that summer one day we were hiking the Cascade River. This aptly named river plunges down to Lake Superior in a series of waterfalls. It was the last hike Debbie and I took together on the North Shore. Usually we would hike the trail from the bottom up. Because of construction we had to park at the campground and join the river trail at its top. At the bottom, close to where the river flows into Lake Superior, the kids all took off their shoes and were wading in the river. I was hopping from rock to rock. At one point I saw a bigger rock that was sitting in the river. I walked over to it and gave it a little push into the current just to see what would happen. Not much as it turned out; the water just flowed around it. I pondered whether I had changed anything by my little alteration of the river. As I turned back towards the shore, there in the river was a stone in the shape of a heart. I realized that Debbie had put it there for me as an echo of my earlier flower gift – it was the valentine she hadn’t been able to give me in February. After that Debbie has left me several hearts. On Valentine’s Day when I took out our dog, Lucy, right next to the path sitting on top of the snow a couple seeds had formed a heart. On Christmas Eve, I took Lucy for a walk. The day before we had some slushy snow fall and it had melted on the ground. The temperature had fallen. Any depressions in the ground had collected water which had frozen with a white border around it. They were all circular. Then I came across one in the shape of a heart. This last summer I was on the North Shore again. My family had a family reunion up there as we’ve done in the past. We had made the effort to make it happen this summer as it would probably be my dad’s last trip there. We were all staying at Cobblestone Cabins. One day I went walking down to the rock beach by the lake. I was thinking it was possible that I might find a heart from Debbie. I wandered among the rocks watching the waves from the lake. I saw a rock with two rounded edges on the top. I picked it up thinking this must be from Debbie. As I looked more closely at it I realized it was more of a bean shape. I was hoping for a heart. Reluctantly, not wanting to give up, but realizing it wasn’t really a heart I set the stone back down. I took a couple steps to the lake and watched the waves for a little bit before turning around to go back up to the cabin. Looking down I laughed, there was a rock with a heart on it that was clearly not a bean. What do all these hearts mean? Why am I getting hearts when other people who have lost someone don’t get anything? I guess that Debbie felt that she still had something left to say to me while others who have left don’t feel that need. What do I think she has to say? I think she is expressing her love for me. Sometimes it was hard for her to do that, she was more of an “actions speak louder than words” person. After I was over the initial shock of her being gone when I remembered our life together I would often think about things I did wrong or could have done better. So, I also take the hearts to mean let that go, it didn’t change her love. In any case, whether these are messages from the beyond or just coincidences, know that your love impacts this world even beyond the time you are physically present. Obituary notices aren’t the best at giving a picture of the person. They’re designed to give just basic information – date of birth and death, relatives and the time of the service. I wanted to give you a picture of my dad by telling you some of the things that were not in the obituary.
1. The Shot Dad didn’t feel right when some of his friends were serving in the military during the Korean War, so he decided to enlist. His father told him he could join anybody except the Marines. So, Dad enlisted in the United States Marine Corps, and was proud to have served. He was on the base basketball team in Barstow, California. In one game, his team had a big lead as halftime approached. With seconds to go they had an inbounds pass after the other team scored. Dad stood in the corner of the court as far from his basket as possible. They passed the ball into Dad; he threw up a shot and scored. Dad always ended this story by telling us that he had the record for the longest shot ever in a basketball game and his record couldn’t be broken. 2. The Politician Dad was active in Democratic politics. In 1963, he ran for Mayor of Bloomington. In a Republican city, he drew 49.25% of the vote and lost by only 165 votes. His opponent’s daughter had been crowned Miss Minnesota just before the election. Dad said to me once that after he told Calvin Griffin that the Twins should pay for their own sewer connections at Met Stadium that Calvin started contributing a lot of money to his opponent. He also ran for the state legislature. I remember seeing his signs up in many yards. They were black and bright green and one side read “Kane Cares.” We kids were pulled in to help with delivering campaign literature to houses. It was a job we were used to having helped Bob Hoffman with his run for city council. After that Dad didn’t run again. Although one Sunday after church he was approached to run for Bloomington city council. I was there and heard his answer. He asked, “Isn’t Tom Spies running?” When told that Tom was running as an independent Dad said, “I don’t want to run against Tom, he’s a good man.” 3. The Network This is before the term networking existed as it does now. When I was young, it used to seem that every time I went anywhere with Dad we would meet someone he knew and Dad would stop to talk with them. I felt like everybody knew my Dad. 4. The Coach Dad coached in the BAA (Bloomington Athletic Association) with young kids. He coached me in baseball and basketball even though I was thoroughly uncoordinated and not a good athlete. He was positive with me, teaching me to bunt to get on base and praising my passing ability in basketball. He also coached football with Bob Hoffman. They went undefeated for 8 years. Dad used to doodle offensive plays on napkins and envelopes. 5. The Smoker Dad used to smoke. Mostly he smoked pipes. One of the newspaper articles that appeared when he was running for Mayor said that he had over 150 pipes which was one for every organization where he had volunteered. After his doctor told him if he didn’t quit he’d die young dad gave up smoking cold turkey. I was in a mall with him and walking by a tobacco shop, Dad paused and took in a deep breath and sighed. “Every time I walk by a tobacco shop I want to start up again.” The winter he stopped is remembered by the family as the year he made bread. To take his mind off smoking he made banana bread, pumpkin bread, cranberry walnut bread. Then spring came and he stopped making bread and worked outside planting roses. He loved roses and loved giving them and having them. 6. The Minnesota Teen Corps Dad enjoyed working with young people. His time with the Minnesota Teen Corps was an exciting time. Teen Corps did service projects at summer camps around Minnesota and also sent toys to Appalachia every year for people in poverty. It was a source of pride to Dad that Teen Corps alumni went on to work in social work all over the country and even internationally. There is a house that was named in Dad’s honor at a facility in France. 7. The YES Man Dad was instrumental in the formation of the YES or Youth Emergency Services which was a hotline for people in trouble. It wasn’t uncommon for Dad to receive a phone call at home with a person in trouble who was feeling suicidal. What was the byproduct of those calls? We’ll never know for sure. 8. The Family Man Several people have mentioned to me that the regarded Dad as a father figure. And that’s the way Dad was. He was universally accepting and supportive of people. Over my life I’ve come to realize that family is more than just your relatives. You also have the family of people you choose to have in your life. That comes from my parents. I am blessed to have been a part of my family. There’s no drama at holidays, we all like each other and have a good time together. That’s the family my parents built. 9. The Love Story Mom was the love of Dad’s life. They celebrated 64 years of marriage 4 days after Dad entered hospice. Dad told me that when he had to buy greeting cards the only times he would actually read the card he was getting was if it was for Mom. (Although, later in life he would read the joke cards. He was the one who started the family tradition of getting nasty birthday cards about how old we were and then signing someone else’s name to the card.) Debbie and I took Mom and Dad out to dinner for their 40th anniversary. We went out to Khan’s Mongolian Barbeque. Khan’s has a buffet where you can put meat and vegetables on your plate and then they will cook it up for you. When Dad came back to the table after having been through this he had a plate that was all meat. Afterwards we opened our fortune cookies up. This was the only time in my life that I saw a repeat on fortunes. Mom and Dad both got the same fortune. “You have a tremendous capacity for enjoying life.” 10. The Death Dad was in severe pain for a long time prior to his death. While it’s not good that he’s gone it is good that he’s no longer in pain and has been reunited with his parents and siblings. He fell and broke his pelvis and then developed pneumonia. He entered hospice care and we took him home from the hospital. In his time at home every one of his children and their spouses, every grandchild and their spouses, and every great-grandchild was able to visit him and say goodbye. A member of the military came to give Dad a pin and thank him for his service to the country. For several days after that Dad did not open his eyes. They told us that he could go at any time. On Sunday with several of the family present he made an effort and opened his eyes. My mother held his face in her hands and they gazed at each other until he was gone. With Alicia’s wedding coming up this weekend I was remembering Debbie with our children. I’ve been working on my toast for the wedding and I didn’t have time to write. But I found something I had written about Debbie earlier, so I thought I would share a couple memories with you.
We were in church one Sunday when our son, Andrew, was little. Debbie was holding Andrew while she and I talked with some friends. Our daughter, Alicia, stood patiently waiting for us to finish. Suddenly Debbie realized she couldn’t see one of our kids and her mother instinct kicked into high gear. “Where’s Andrew?” she said in an almost panicked voice as she turned and looked left and right trying to find him. I had an initial moment of panic based on Debbie’s voice, but it passed as I knew where he was. Alicia came to her rescue, “Mom, you’re holding him.” A funny little story, always a bit embarrassing for Debbie. It does illustrate her mother instinct. If something was wrong with one of her kids she would suddenly step into high gear. The most panicked and flustered I ever saw Debbie was the time she thought Alicia was missing. Alicia had been invited to a concert at the Xcel Center with two girls from the Waldorf School and the parents of one of them. I dropped her off in St. Paul across the street from the arena and went home. A couple hours later we got a call from her friend’s parents. It was intermission at the concert and they were wondering why Alicia hadn’t come and there was no answer on her cell phone. Debbie went into panic mode assuming the worst. I didn’t hear the full conversation because I went downstairs to get my cell phone to see if there were any messages on that. When I picked up the phone downstairs it sounded like she must have been pretty intense. As she was with me about how could I just drop her off and drive away without waiting until she had got into the arena. She calmed down a bit when I explained how Alicia had gotten out of the car at the corner where I stopped at the light and to wait for her to get into the arena would have blocked traffic. At one point, I tried to comfort her. A hand on the shoulder and saying, “it will turn out alright.” But she didn’t want to be comforted and shook me off. We ended up getting in the car and driving around downtown St. Paul looking for her. Then going to the arena where we asked them to make an announcement for Alicia to contact an usher if she was there. They said they would, but not until the end of the show. That set me off and I went in quest of a higher up to make an announcement earlier. “No,” the performer wouldn’t let them I was told. Further argument became moot as the concert ended. They made an announcement. A bit later they told us that Alicia had been found. She had gone to the wrong entrance and waited for her friends. After a while she realized there was a problem. But her cell phone battery was dead. As she stood there trying to figure out what to do someone offered her an extra ticket so she could go in and look for her friends. So, Alicia went in and watched the show. After the show, she didn’t hear the announcement. But she was looking lost, so an usher asked her if she was Alicia Hillar. When she said yes the usher brought her to us. Debbie was a tiger when it came to defending her kids. I’d never traveled over the Christmas holidays before. Why would I want to travel away from family? But, with my daughter Alicia spending a year volunteering in Mexico, my wife Debbie, my son Andrew, and I were travelling to be with family. So, there I was learning about life in Mexico.
Alicia was living with a family in Tepoztlan, Mexico and working with young children for an organization called La Jugarreta. Tepoztlan is about an hour and a half south of Mexico City, close to Cuernavaca. Parts of the film the Magnificent Seven were filmed there. Hills around the city seem to rise up like the sides of skyscrapers. Alicia had already told us that she wanted to take us to ziplining. Or rather that we would take her - - and pay for it. She sent us an email with a link to a YouTube video of the zipline along with a note; “Mom, don't be scared. It's gonna be crazy fun.” Alicia kept up her sales job with Mom when we got there, including explaining the concept of YOLO or You Only Live Once. Debbie didn’t seem to be too fazed, however she did make some comments to me about the differences in safety regulations between the US and Mexico. We went to the Ocotirolesa (Oh Co Ti Row Lay Sa), which I thought was Spanish for Eight Ziplines. But i was wrong, it's the name of the area where the zipline is. Then we were there. We got our protective gear and had to hike up to the start of the ziplines. First, there were a few short zip lines that didn’t have much of a drop beneath them. Then we had the BIG one. Debbie went before me and did fine. After a couple minutes, I was next. I had a short moment of thinking what am I doing, but I let it go and jumped off. The line wasn’t too high up in the air at first, but then it came to that skyscraper side of the hill and suddenly I was WAY up in the air. The brochure said the line was over 800 meters at the highest point. Half a mile up. The same height as a 35-story building. As I flew over a soccer field, I thought this was as close to playing quidditch as I would ever get. As Alicia had said it was “crazy fun.” After we were all across the valley we had to climb up to the zip line that would take us back. Grabbing onto the cable that had been strung up the hill we pulled ourselves up. You Only Live Once, but we got to do the crazy fun zip line twice. We were invited to an English language church service in Cuernavaca. My wife, Debbie was especially interested in seeing Cuernavaca because she had been there before on a trip when she was a Girl Scout. We took the bus to Cuernavaca, took a taxi to the area the church was in, and then walked a few blocks to the church. We were slightly behind schedule (alright, we were late). On our walk to the church, Alicia realized we wouldn’t be late for the service when she saw the pastor running from the church to his house. He was looking for his copy of the sermon that was missing. It also turned out that only the bulletins for the later Spanish language service had been delivered. They were missing their English language bulletins with the order of service and the list of songs that would be sung. They worked around not having the bulletins. The Pastor’s English version of his sermon wasn’t found. So, to give the sermon he had to use his Spanish version and translate on the fly. It was all going well when suddenly – electronic beeps and music. Someone’s cell phone was ringing. The Pastor sagged against his pulpit, shook his head and said, “Ahh, go ahead and answer it. What more could go wrong today?” Once the music stopped, he gave a little aside that I remind myself of from time to time. “You know”, he said, “there is a technical term for this. When you have everything planned out and nothing works the way it should. It’s a little word, only four letters. It’s called life.” And then he went on with his sermon. After the church service we spoke with some of the other people there. Debbie found out that the Girl Scout camp that she had been at was only a few blocks away. We started walking there and soon made our way to the compound. A high wall surrounded everything. We walked up the guard booth and explained that we wanted to see inside. “I’m sorry, there’s nobody inside. They’ve all gone on an outing to Tepoztlan.” We took a few pictures in front of the gate and slowly trudged away. Standing on the other side of the street we tried to hail a cab. We weren’t having any luck when we suddenly saw the guard running in our direction. “I found someone inside! You can go in!” We went back in and were given a tour by a young English woman who worked at the camp. On the tour Debbie would see something, give a smile, a nod and tell us a memory she had. As the tour ended we walked into the administration building. Our guide pointed to a wall full of books. “Each visiting group of Scouts does a page for our scrapbooks.” Debbie remembered making a page. We asked the guide if they would have her page. “We should,” she said and then asked Debbie what year she had been there. “Hmm, that far back is going to be in the basement.” She left and then came back with three books. Paging through the books Debbie found her page. It included a picture of her group and each of the girls had signed their name. With a grin Debbie showed us her picture and explained the background of some of her friends in the picture. You only live once, but signs of your presence can turn up in unexpected places long after you’ve been there. And gone. Growing up my Uncle Gene and Aunt Lenore would always host a picnic on the Fourth of July. There would be a softball game at the park followed by a pot luck dinner. After dinner would come the games. Races for the kids, grouped by ages. My brother Michael had an intense rivalry with Mary Beth Vennewitz. Shoe kicking, grouped by men, women and children. My kicks usually went straight up and down with no distance. Watermelon seed spitting. They'd put an old shower curtain down for us to spit at. Pete McKenna usually won. Although I know that at least a couple times my seed went past the shower curtain and wasn't counted, so I should have won. And through the day my brother Kevin and cousin Matt and I would be lighting off snakes and caps.
At the end of the party we'd stay and help clean up then head out for fireworks. We went to several different spots for fireworks over the years. Two of the shows after the end of the Twin's game at Met Stadium were my best memories. Fireworks that didn't go off when they should have and fireworks that went off when they shouldn't have. One year as we were watching we saw something drifting down from the sky. It was a small parachute with some fireworks that hadn't ignited. Kevin grabbed it. We lit them off later and they burned in color. Another year we were on the roof of the convention center in Bloomington (this building later became the Carlton Celebrity Room) over by the stadium. The fireworks show started. One rocket went up then came back down. Suddenly there was a fantastic display of fireworks going off right on the ground. "Wow," we said, "that's a pretty good start. How's the Grand Finale going to top that?" Then the fire engines came. The whole show had been set off on the ground. Several years ago I started hosting a Fourth of July picnic for my family. We have games, potluck and go to a fireworks show. I still don't win the shoe kick. I've also lost the knack of spitting watermelon seeds for distance. But, rather than having someone else cheated out of the longest spit I've made them put the contest in my driveway where all the seeds will be seen. So if while you're out celebrating the birth of our freedom you see a bunch of people standing at the end of a driveway spitting seeds don't think it's just a bunch of weirdo's. It's just my family making memories for the next generation. Have a great Fourth of July everybody! My tale is a tale of doom. It was a little first grader who doomed my plan. Or so I thought before I learned what doom really felt like.
Let me explain my plan to you. In my writing class at the Loft before Valentine’s Day as part of an exercise I had written a poem. Here, take my heart of stone, let me be your rock. Here, take my heart of glass, but don’t break it. Here, take my heart of cotton candy, I’m sweet on you. Here, take my artichoke heart, it’s good for you. Here, take my heart of gas, let’s refuel ourselves. Forgive me for not giving you my heart of water, you don’t need any tears. Here, take my heart to heart and let me know what I need to know. Here, take my heart of the matter, I love you. It was a first draft and while I liked some lines as a whole I wasn’t very pleased with it. Still, I thought maybe with a few changes it would make a good Valentine’s Day card for my wife. I planned that on Friday morning, Valentine’s Day, while I was out on the other side of the Twin Cities I would stop at a certain store. I’ve shopped there before and my wife always liked the cards I get her from there. My plan was in place. Get the card, rewrite the poem into the card and give it to her at dinner. My wife, Debbie, was teaching first grade at the Minnesota Waldorf School. A unique approach that Waldorf Schools have with their teachers is that the teacher moves grades with the class. Debbie had just finished taking a class from first through eighth grade and was starting the cycle anew with first grade this year. Over the summer she began a battle breast cancer. She went through chemotherapy and radiation treatment with good results. After Christmas, she was back to working full time. That came to a halt at the beginning of February when she went to see the eye doctor who discovered she had a detached retina. To fix this they had to do surgery. They put a permanent band around the eyeball. Then they went into her eyeball with tools so small they don’t need to make an incision and fixed the retina. Finally, they put a gas bubble inside her eye to hold the retina in place. For the next day Debbie had to look down so the bubble would float to the back of her eye where the retina is. Being able to see clearly out of one eye and fuzzily through a bubble in the other eye was disconcerting. So, Debbie was taking time off work to recover. In the meantime, the first graders had been doing a block of lessons based on circus acts. This would culminate in a performance for the school and parents on Friday afternoon. The day before the performance a teacher heard some first graders talking. One of them said, “Wouldn’t it be great if Mrs. Kane could see us do our circus?” Debbie, aka Mrs. Kane, heard about the comment. Of course, she then had to make the effort to go. And this is what doomed me. My wife was still unable to drive and enlisted our daughter to get her to the school for the performance. Unfortunately, that day our daughter was with me in the morning on another end of town. I could get her back in time, but would be unable to stop at the store to pick up a card as I had planned. Now a first grader had unknowingly thwarted me. Was I to be doomed to looking for a Valentine’s Day card in the remnants of Target’s card section, prowling through the picked over cards at Walgreens? Not to mention that I now had to get to work and between getting home and getting dinner, I would have time for only one stop to get a card. How could I escape this doom? Then I realized, the Co-op has a good selection of cards. I could stop there, buy food for dinner and look for a card. If they didn’t have any Valentine’s Day cards I could always get a good blank card. My plan was saved. When I got to the Co-op I discovered the card selection was much bigger in my memory than in real life. They didn’t have a section of Valentine’s Day cards. And what’s more the only blank cards that would work were ones we had already bought and used in the past, so Debbie had already seen them. I was doomed to a substandard blank card and there was no time to go anywhere else. There was nothing I could do. I picked the card that was the least bad for my purposes and did the rest of my shopping. The Co-op has three cash registers. That day all three lanes were full. There must be a Murphy’s Law for checkout lanes. Something along the lines of: As soon as you pick a lane the other open lanes will fill with people and someone in your lane will cause a problem that the person on the register will be unable to solve by themselves. That day was not an exception to that rule. I stood in line waiting and surreptitiously eyeing the people in the other lanes who had gotten in line after me, but had edged closer to checking out than me. Tiring of that I started reading the checkout magazine covers. That was brief because, of course, the co-op doesn’t carry the trashy tabloids that we all read while we wait in the checkout lines. Meanwhile the problem shopper still hadn’t resolved anything, so my gaze wandered around the store. Inevitably I was drawn back to the Card Racks of Doom when what to my wandering eyes should appear, but a red card with perhaps a heart on it. Merry Christmas! Maybe this card could work. Still in the cycle of doom I went back to the racks and looked at the card expecting something weird that would in no way fit with what I had written. Instead I found a card that could not have been better. The front of the card was a picture all in red of flowers forming a heart shaped frame. In the frame are two birds facing each other. One bird has a branch in its beak as if to give it to the other bird. Below the picture there was a verse by Pablo Neruda. The inside of the card featured a smaller version of the bird from the outside holding the branch in its beak. The inside caption read, “My heart is yours”. If I started looking a year in advance if I could not have found a card with a caption that would fit my theme of “Here take my heart” better than that. My plan was saved. I bought the card and wrote the revised version of the poem inside the card. Here, take my heart of stone, let me be your rock. Here, take my heart of glass, but don’t break it. Here, take my artichoke heart, it’s good for you. Here, take my heart of the matter, which is that I love you always. When you’ve taken my heart don’t think me heartless because it’s full of the love of you. So, here, take my sweetheart and be mine. I gave her the card at dinner. Because of her eye surgery I had to read the card aloud to her. After I explained the circumstances of how it came to be written as an exercise in my class she smiled and said, “You can practice on me anytime”. Unfortunately, she was wrong. That’s when I found out what doom really feels like. Eight days after Valentine’s day I brought Debbie into the hospital emergency room. The cancer was aggressively attacking the lining of her brain. While there were some glimmers of hope they turned out to be just grasping at straws. It became clear that we should focus on keeping Debbie as comfortable as possible in her remaining time. Debbie entered hospice care and came home to be surrounded by love and family. The card ended up being Debbie’s last valentine. I found myself stunned at how quickly anytime turned into out of time. Two pictures, seven years apart. Beginnings and endings. The first picture was taken on August 12, 1974 when I was 14. The second picture was taken on June 15, 1981; I was almost 21. The pictures bookmark the time we had our family van. I can put an exact time frame on it because of its astounding appearance and its dramatic disappearance. The van was utterly unlike any of the other cars we had during those years. It was shiny silver and red with no rust and a comfortable interior. Unlike our other cars which usually had lost their shine and were a whisper away from being a clunker. I can date its appearance because it was a few days after Nixon resigned as President. I was up on the North Shore of Lake Superior with Uncle Gene, Aunt Lenore and my cousin, Matt, who was close to my age. At one point, we had heard the President would be resigning the tomorrow. On the next day as we were driving through the woods, Matt suddenly leaned forward in the back seat, reached up and honked the car horn. “Nixon’s gone!” he shouted. "Yes!" I shouted as grateful that Matt hadn't caused Uncle Gene to drive into a ditch as I was for the political moment. A few days later my family was coming up to stay and my aunt and uncle would leave the next morning. Matt and I decided to take a hike that afternoon from the resort where we stayed; our vague plan was to walk to the river and hike up it. When we were walking on the side of the road that morphed into, "let’s see if we can get down to Lake Superior from here." Once we were on the lakeshore the plan changed into, "let’s see if we can hike all the way to the river on the rocks along the shore." On the journey we discovered a small waterfall, caves, and a natural amphitheater complete with a big rock podium. Eventually we hit a rock wall we couldn't climb and had to give up the plan of making it to the river. We made our way back to the road just short of the river. Matt and I decided we still had time to go up the river. We hiked up stopping at each of the waterfalls and then continuing. Finally, we made it to the bend in the river where we usually stopped. A small set of rapids allowed us to sit with our feet in a natural Jacuzzi. We realized that it was getting a bit late and we should be back before my family arrived. We made a mad dash down the river back to the highway. Matt and I were impressed with how quickly we made it back down the river and how much faster it goes if you don’t stop to look at any of the sights. However, the dash took its toll. We were both trudging along the highway back to the resort. I remember my feet feeling like they would feel when we would walk back to our car after a day of walking all over the State Fair. I just wanted to sit down. We weren’t very far along when a van pulled off the side of the road ahead of us. It was a bright shiny newer looking van. Wishfully I said, “maybe my parents bought a new car and they're going to give us a ride.” Matt said, “dream on,” echoing what I was thinking. Then it happened. The passenger side door opened and my oldest sister Kerry’s head popped out. “Hurry up!” Amazed we ran for the van. Over the next seven years there were many changes. Gerald Ford become President. He was followed by Jimmy Carter who had picked Walter Mondale, a Minnesotan, as his Vice President. Next came Ronald Reagan who pledged to cut taxes and spending. The non-profit my father ran became a casualty of the spending cuts. Matt and I showed the rest of the family our hike along the shore. Since then it has always been referred to as The Hike Along the Rocks” (yes, in capital letters.) It has been a family favorite for many years. My family grew with the marriage of my oldest sister and the birth of two of her children. I went from middle school through high school and then to college. From a teenager to my early twenties. From being painfully shy to going to an out of state college where I knew nobody. Through it all the van was there as the family vehicle, steady and dependable, always starting with the turn of a key. On June 14, 1981 the van disappeared. That summer I was at home preparing to spend the fall quarter of college in Europe. We had a full house. I am the fourth out of five children and four of us were living at home. Kerry had moved back home with her husband and two young children. I was sharing a bedroom with my younger brother, Michael. My sister, Katie, and my parents also lived there while my brother, Kevin, was living elsewhere for the summer. Kerry and her husband John decided to take their kids to Lake Harriet in Minneapolis. Michael and I went with them. This had been the lake our parents would take us to when we were little. Back then we would swim, have a picnic, and go to the band shell for a concert and a treat from the concession stand. Kerry, her husband John, their almost 3-year-old son Brendan, their 4-month-old daughter Bernadette, my brother Michael and I all took the van and drove to the lake. We parked close the rose gardens and walked down to the lake. The day was hot, humid and overcast. The kids went wading in the water and played around. We sat on a blanket enjoying the day and the lake. Eventually it became time for us to go. At this point the van suddenly decided not to start. After several attempts John left to hike to the band shell and call for help. As he left we stayed in the van and kept the kids occupied. John arrived back. He had called home and only my sister Katie was home. She would come and pick us up to get everybody home and we could worry about the van later. Katie soon arrived in one of the cars that was one of our normal cars. A dull brown 1973 Chrysler New Yorker that was a pre-oil crisis gas guzzling tank. As soon as Katie pulled into the empty parking spot in front of us we all hopped out and went to the car. Strangely we all felt a need to hurry. I was the first one to get in the car, as I slid into the seat behind Katie I looked at the lake. Coming across the lake was a wall of water looking like heavy rain. “Look at that,” I said. Katie looked and groaned, “Oh no, I didn’t close the windows at home.” Neither one of us knew that behind the wall was a tornado bearing down on us. As everyone piled into the car the storm hit. The rain became heavier and heavier and the winds picked up. Eventually the only thing we could see out the windows was water blowing sideways. Every so often, a stick would blow up against the window, hold for a fraction of a second and fly away again - eerily reminiscent of the tornado scene in The Wizard of Oz. That tank of a car with five adults and two children in it was bouncing up, down and around; shaking and sliding in the wind. My ears popped and I think that was when some part of my mind realized it was a tornado. I cracked my window open to equalize the pressure, shouted for everyone else to do the same and put my head down.* The storm continued. The car kept bouncing around. After a while it subsided and we looked up. Michael, in the front seat, turned to look at us in the back and gasped, “The van is gone!” I turned around and looked. In the parking space behind us where the van was parked, I saw only an empty parking spot. Vans and cars do not suddenly disappear like a magic trick. My mind didn't comprehend it on first glance. My reaction was the same as Michael's, "it's gone!" The van had been blown into the ditch. When it was pulled out the next day we could see that the whole front was caved in. Anybody sitting the front seat could have been killed. Kerry and John were in a panic to get the kids home. We moved some downed trees out of the way and drove across a lawn to get out of the area to drive home. On the way home, I sat in the back seat on the passenger side. Kerry was in front of me holding her daughter on her shoulder. Bernadette was staring at me with her eyes wide. I reached out with my finger and she wrapped her fingers around it; grasping it tightly all the way home. That night we watched the coverage of the tornado on all the local TV stations. Most of the coverage focused on the damage to shopping areas in Edina and HarMar Mall in Roseville. Then on Channel 11 they covered Lake Harriet. They interviewed two bystanders. The talked about the tornado and then said, “There’s a van in the ditch over there.” And then they showed it; our van was on TV upside down in the ditch. I have two pictures to remind me of the van’s coming and going. Matt took the first picture of me on “The Hike”. It used to embarrass me to look that picture of myself. Blue tennis shoes, plaid pants, an orange striped shirt, a maroon sweatshirt tied around my neck and my long hair. Maybe, it’s the passage of time, maybe it’s seeing other awkward kids turn into reasonable adults that it doesn’t have the same effect anymore. The second picture was taken of me next to the van after it had been pulled out of the ditch. The original of the picture was lost, so all I have is a photocopy. I compare that picture to the one taken of me earlier and see someone who has grown in more than just stature. There is a quiet confidence in my pose as I lean against the van. As the van dramatically appeared and disappeared the world was changing as well. Undramatically, the child that I was slowly disappeared and the man I was becoming slowly began to appear. *A note about tornado safety. In the time this story takes place, the theory was that tornados would cause much of their damage because of their intense low pressure would make sealed buildings blow out their windows. So, we were told in the event of a tornado, windows should be slightly opened to equalize the pressure. However, it has since been determined that having windows open with the wind blowing through can make the roof of a building act like an airplane wing and lift off. |
Details
Author
Tim Kane's memories, musings and updates. Archives
August 2021
Categories
All
|