Even without a black cat sighting, our trip back was a tad bit trying. Neither Rob nor I managed to get more than a few hours of sleep Saturday night despite the fact that we were both exhausted. I don’t know if it was just the preoccupation with making sure all the details were in order or just the stress that occupies air travel generally these days. I was worried about crossing the border since my status is not yet official.
The Cedar Rapids Airport isn’t very big. Small jets that contract with larger airlines mainly. Checking in set Rob’s teeth on edge within ten minutes of our arrival. The touch and scan machine they have at the counter was backed up due to a passenger who either couldn’t read or didn’t understand the concept of touch screen or both. For some reason we weren’t allowed to choose our seats prior to check in which is annoying beyond words when you are traveling with small children. The woman in question was one of those who was trying to hang onto the best years of her life and these years were clearly her twenties. She was wearing tight jeans, a leopard print shirt just as clingy and was so expertly balanced on 3 inch stilletto heels with an open toe that you knew she didn’t own a pair of flats beyond the cross-trainers she probably wore when she went to gym once a week. Too much make-up for 7:15 in the morning and a shaggish type hair-style that doesn’t really suit people our age. I say “our age” because she couldn’t have been much older than I am and was likely a bit younger but that’s what tanning beds actually do for you. Having just spent the evening before at my 25th high school reunion, I was a bit more conscious of my peers who put a lot of effort into staying young. Rob fumed openly at the woman, and I didn’t blame him. The more I watched her, the more obvious it was that she wasn’t incapable of traversing the seating situation. She was one of those women who had lived her life getting others, probably men more often than not, to do things for her. As she explained to the employee who finally gave up trying to explain it to her and just did it for her, she had paid a lot of money for this trip and she was going to sit next to her girlfriend but her daughter and son-in-law didn’t need to be near-by if that was too much trouble. It was then I noticed the young couple tying up the other kiosk. The daughter was obviously her mother’s clothing and hairstyle inspiration and she was browning herself to an older looking middle-age in her mother’s footsteps as well. The younger woman was also a graduate of the school of dumb blondes, pretending incompetence as her husband indulgently guided her through the check in procedure.
The jet we were taking was being boarded out on the tarmac. We don’t always take advantage of the right that passengers with small children have to board ahead of our seats being called but with the walk out and carrying the carseat to check this time, we did. On the smaller jets they are very strict about the one carry-on rule. Even purses are deemed carry-on which is beyond stupid as most women don’t travel with backpack size handbags and many of the purses these days are very small. Mine you might not even notice if you saw me only from the front, which is the angle the flight attendant first spied me from as I helped Katy on and we walked past the attendant and a long-haired passenger arguing about his carry-on. It appeared he had quickly moved his cameras to his larger carry-on and was folding the camera bag to stuff in the first bag as well but the attendant continued to harangue him. Until she saw Rob. He was carrying his computer case and wearing the backpack that the three of us share and which also contained my computer. The flight attendant seized upon the chance to force someone else to check a bag, having failed with Mr. Pony-Tail. Rob quickly pointed out that he did have one carry-on and was handling mine because I was taking charge of Katy. And that is when she saw my purse.
“A hand-bag is a carry-on and you cannot have two carry-on.”
So now I was blocking the aisle, which always makes one popular on any flight and Katy was getting ahead of me and the other passengers were looking on with interest to see if I would make an issue and likely get us ejected.
“Okay, can I put the purse in the pack?”
Thwarted again, and clearly unhappy about that, she replied, “Yes, because you can only have one carry-one.”
I suppose I could have gotten uber-technical and pointed out that there were three of us and therefore we were allowed three carry-on. If I had wanted to be a real smart-ass, I could have handed Katy my purse (she loves carrying it) and taken the pack from Rob. I wasn’t in the mood. I was tired and worried about getting through Canadian Customs and thinking a bit about my dad, whether or not I will ever see him alive again, and the woman was clearly one of those people who saw the world from her eyes only. Whether or not she would have been kinder if she had known my circumstances isn’t even relevant. The world at large is not equipped to deal with us all as individuals with needs and feelings. Sometimes, you just suck it up and shrug it off as best you can later.
I was most of the flight and a while longer in Minneapolis “shrugging” Brunhilda off. It wasn’t until I had a skinny chai from Starbucks in hand and finished reading the last thirty pages of The Other Boleyn Girl that I felt more like myself. When we finally hit Concourse C and Katy was happily making friends with the other children in the play area, Rob wisely sent me off to the Starbucks which was a bit of a walk. The walk helped a lot. The chai and a literary immersion got me the last little bit to my “zen” place. The man knows me pretty well.
The flight into Edmonton is about 2 and 1/2 hours. We were late taking off because the pilot waited for a few passengers whose connecting flight was late, but we still made it on schedule. There was quite a bit of turbulence early in the flight. The kind that reminds you of a rollercoaster. Stomach-dropping. I wasn’t afraid as much as physically disconcerted. I am keenly aware of motion. I can feel the floor move and the sway of buildings. Air turbulence might as well be an earthquake in terms of what I feel. Fortunately it passed quickly though the flight didn’t. If it is calm, I can write and even read a bit. Bumpy and I have nothing to do but wait.
In Edmonton, customs turned out to be a non-event, as Rob had said it would be. We did get booted over to the Immigration Office but that turned out to be a good thing because we were able to get one of the clearest explanations of my status and what we needed to know and remember to do that we have ever gotten from Immigration. It was worth the wait.
The kittens went a bit feral while we were gone but on the upside, they are eating kitten food now and we should be able to hand them over to their new owners soon. I had to make a grocery run and nearly fell asleep over my cart as I schlepped around the Safeway. But, by nine we were all ready for bed and the bags were unpacked, put away and laundry was half done.
It was a good trip, but I am so glad to be home again.
Sunday, October 21, 2007
Saturday, October 20, 2007
My Dad is Dying
My father is dying. Odds being what they are it would be surprising if he made it to the new year. Ironically it was two years ago this coming week that I had to come back here to help out because he was having surgery to unblock as artery in his neck that was causing him to have small strokes. He hasn’t been well since but has fought very hard to regain his health and independence. He quit smoking and drinking cold turkey. No small feat for a a life-long smoker and a functional alcoholic. He probably would have beaten his way all the way back but for the pulmonary fibrosis which set in a few months after my late husband died.
It seems to me that Dad is ready to go now. He is finally allowing he and mom’s will to be revised to reflect that changes in our family over the last five or so years. He talks openly about not being around much longer. My next younger sister, Katie, told me frankly last night that he is not doing even as well as he looks as though he is doing. The tell-tale sign to me is that he spends most of his time in bed sleeping. It’s one of those that the hospice people would point out when Will was at Kavanaugh House two years ago.
In light of all this, I pinned my sister down last night and we discussed the details that I would never get out of my mother. My sister admitted that she wishes I had moved back here after Will died. She is tired of taking care of the folks on her won as our youngest sister is, as my brother-in-law puts it, “A forty year old with the mind of a sixteen year old” and that is exactly as frustrating and maddening as it sounds. Katie has the power of attorney for both our parents and will make all the decisions once dad dies or goes into the hospital, which I think is unlikely. If he is fighting at all now it is to die at home. Being in Canada, I be the one walking in after the fact and taking instructions. And dealing with Mom. That my sister is emphatic about. Truthfully, I deal with her much better than Kate does and, sadly, I will understand where she is coming from too.
As often happens when we discuss Dad and the final arrangements, the subject of inheritance comes up. My dad grew up quite poor. My grandparents were tenant farmers during the depression and eventually ended up living with my grandmother’s father and working the homestead for him. My uncle eventually managed to buy the place in the mid-sixties but died in 1972 leaving the place to my grandmother who when she died had it divided up among the surviving children. It wasn’t a fortune but it gave my dad the opportunity to invest on a much larger scale than his pay from the meat packing plant ever could. And my dad is one shrewd money man. I have realized since college that he was amassing quite the tidy sum. He has explained bits and pieces to me over the years but I have never factored inheritance into any of my plans the way my siblings have. As it is, a careful person with a head for investing, or a good financial planner, could live a comfortable life with what my dad plans to leave behind for his children and grandchildren. And even though I am not one of those who views insurance money or inheritance as “blood” money, I would prefer not to be made comfortable this way.
Today, we are going out to the old homestead. Perhaps Dad will come along if he feels up to it. I haven’t seen it in years. For some reason I want to visit the old places from my childhood and teenage years. Take pictures. Share memories. Maybe it’s because of Dad or possibly it is the move to Canada and the feeling that I will not live here in the states for any extended length of time again. Whatever the case, the rain has finally stopped and it is a certainty that Rob, Katy and I won’t be seeing sunny day in the low seventies until next summer, so we will be spending our last full day in Iowa outdoors.
It seems to me that Dad is ready to go now. He is finally allowing he and mom’s will to be revised to reflect that changes in our family over the last five or so years. He talks openly about not being around much longer. My next younger sister, Katie, told me frankly last night that he is not doing even as well as he looks as though he is doing. The tell-tale sign to me is that he spends most of his time in bed sleeping. It’s one of those that the hospice people would point out when Will was at Kavanaugh House two years ago.
In light of all this, I pinned my sister down last night and we discussed the details that I would never get out of my mother. My sister admitted that she wishes I had moved back here after Will died. She is tired of taking care of the folks on her won as our youngest sister is, as my brother-in-law puts it, “A forty year old with the mind of a sixteen year old” and that is exactly as frustrating and maddening as it sounds. Katie has the power of attorney for both our parents and will make all the decisions once dad dies or goes into the hospital, which I think is unlikely. If he is fighting at all now it is to die at home. Being in Canada, I be the one walking in after the fact and taking instructions. And dealing with Mom. That my sister is emphatic about. Truthfully, I deal with her much better than Kate does and, sadly, I will understand where she is coming from too.
As often happens when we discuss Dad and the final arrangements, the subject of inheritance comes up. My dad grew up quite poor. My grandparents were tenant farmers during the depression and eventually ended up living with my grandmother’s father and working the homestead for him. My uncle eventually managed to buy the place in the mid-sixties but died in 1972 leaving the place to my grandmother who when she died had it divided up among the surviving children. It wasn’t a fortune but it gave my dad the opportunity to invest on a much larger scale than his pay from the meat packing plant ever could. And my dad is one shrewd money man. I have realized since college that he was amassing quite the tidy sum. He has explained bits and pieces to me over the years but I have never factored inheritance into any of my plans the way my siblings have. As it is, a careful person with a head for investing, or a good financial planner, could live a comfortable life with what my dad plans to leave behind for his children and grandchildren. And even though I am not one of those who views insurance money or inheritance as “blood” money, I would prefer not to be made comfortable this way.
Today, we are going out to the old homestead. Perhaps Dad will come along if he feels up to it. I haven’t seen it in years. For some reason I want to visit the old places from my childhood and teenage years. Take pictures. Share memories. Maybe it’s because of Dad or possibly it is the move to Canada and the feeling that I will not live here in the states for any extended length of time again. Whatever the case, the rain has finally stopped and it is a certainty that Rob, Katy and I won’t be seeing sunny day in the low seventies until next summer, so we will be spending our last full day in Iowa outdoors.
Friday, October 19, 2007
Family and Friends
Rob asked me the first night back why I had wanted to make the trip here. This was after observing me with my folks when we finally arrived. Neither of my parents really listened to much of what I had to say and my mom especially would interrupt me to talk about herself. And that is just them. As I had explained to Rob before, no one in my family really gets me on a deep level or truly understands who I am. He has said himself that I am a “complex” person, though I am not sure why he thinks so. I suppose I am a contradiction at times but I am not sure that qualifies me for “complex” which sounds so much more interesting than it is.
I am not sure I wanted to come back as much as I just needed to for a bit. To check on my folks who are getting older and are not healthy, my father especially. Katy needed to see her grandparents and cousin, Luke. She has and is adjusting quite well in Alberta but she is still just a very little girl. The high school reunion thing was just a coincidence. As it turns out I will probably not see many people from back in those days. Everyone lives so far away and has significant people and family that have taken them far from Dubuque and the kids that we once were. It’s okay. I have never been one to have those BFF type relationships with people who stick with you for lifetimes and would come at the drop of the hat if called upon to do so. I find those types of friendships interesting but don’t know anyone personally who has one. And maybe no one really has someone like that. Maybe it is more the case that we have people who are supportive of us in ways we accept as good enough, often enough. If that makes any sense.
I think the biggest reason I agreed to take this trip was for the opportunity to show Rob where I came from and to spend some time off by ourselves which we haven’t had really since moving in together and marrying. My mom is a willing sitter and Katy has come to expect to be allowed to stay at my folks when we visit. This allows Rob and I the kind of one on one and intimacy that isn’t a given when you marry the second time.
My best friend, Vicki, took the day off and is driving over with her mom and daughter, Lindsay for a quick visit this afternoon. If I have a friend who comes closest to “drop everything” it is her.
Today it’s rainy. Iowa should be synonymous with “swamp” and “sub-tropic” and “Noah” as in ark. I do not miss the biblical rain season here which grows longer and longer as global warming picks up its pace. Rob and I will head out to Starbucks soon and then up to my folks. They enjoy our presence, and they enjoy fact that we are useful. We made dinner last night and cleaned up after. Rob changed the door nob on the bathroom door, so it actually locks again. I guess you can go home again, as long as you are just visiting.
I am not sure I wanted to come back as much as I just needed to for a bit. To check on my folks who are getting older and are not healthy, my father especially. Katy needed to see her grandparents and cousin, Luke. She has and is adjusting quite well in Alberta but she is still just a very little girl. The high school reunion thing was just a coincidence. As it turns out I will probably not see many people from back in those days. Everyone lives so far away and has significant people and family that have taken them far from Dubuque and the kids that we once were. It’s okay. I have never been one to have those BFF type relationships with people who stick with you for lifetimes and would come at the drop of the hat if called upon to do so. I find those types of friendships interesting but don’t know anyone personally who has one. And maybe no one really has someone like that. Maybe it is more the case that we have people who are supportive of us in ways we accept as good enough, often enough. If that makes any sense.
I think the biggest reason I agreed to take this trip was for the opportunity to show Rob where I came from and to spend some time off by ourselves which we haven’t had really since moving in together and marrying. My mom is a willing sitter and Katy has come to expect to be allowed to stay at my folks when we visit. This allows Rob and I the kind of one on one and intimacy that isn’t a given when you marry the second time.
My best friend, Vicki, took the day off and is driving over with her mom and daughter, Lindsay for a quick visit this afternoon. If I have a friend who comes closest to “drop everything” it is her.
Today it’s rainy. Iowa should be synonymous with “swamp” and “sub-tropic” and “Noah” as in ark. I do not miss the biblical rain season here which grows longer and longer as global warming picks up its pace. Rob and I will head out to Starbucks soon and then up to my folks. They enjoy our presence, and they enjoy fact that we are useful. We made dinner last night and cleaned up after. Rob changed the door nob on the bathroom door, so it actually locks again. I guess you can go home again, as long as you are just visiting.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
Black Cats
Just as we were nearing the airport yesterday, a black cat dashed across the road in front of us. Off to the right we could see a coyote paused in mid-chase in the ditch. A more superstitious person would have immediately jumped to the conclusion that the day was now a wash and gone back home to catch up on sleep before the sun came up, but though I did wonder idly about the possibility of our plane plummeting to the ground shortly after take off, I didn’t give the cat, or its hue, another thought until we landed in Minneapolis to discover our next flight was cancelled.
“Cancered?” my daughter puzzled. “Why was the plane cancered?”
Why indeed and since it was a company that contracts with Northwest, we will probably never have an answer, but there we were. It was not quite noon and our one o’clock flight to Cedar Rapids, Iowa was now rescheduled for 4:45. We suddenly had a whole lotta time on our hands.
The first order of business, after visiting the washrooms, was lunch. And, I don’t know if you’ve traveled by air lately but though there are a great many food choices from very fast to sit down and hand over your Gold Card, not a whole lot of it amounts to much more than fat and sugar and the inevitable tummy ache. For me, eating out is a quest anymore. Trying to find food that won’t upset my stomach or aggravate my allergies or even weigh me, literally, down is hard enough to do in the real world but in the confines of a TSA secure airport it is nearly impossible. Once you enter the terrorist-cleansed zone, you aren’t allowed out without penalty. That being that you have to run the screening gauntlet again and explain why you left too I would guess. I would also guess that being hungry for edible food won’t cut it as a reason.
After a search we discovered a food court on Concourse C with an Einsteins and a place that made fruit smoothies as well as Asian cuisine and an A&W. When we were all fed, we landed at the play area and settled with newspapers and Starbucks and made ourselves as comfy and at home as possible while Katy played. It was a little surprising to me how once we were fortified with reading material and beverages that Rob and I kicked back as though it were a weekend morning at our dining room table with tea and toast. I kicked off my shoes and put my feet in his lap, and we read and exchanged information of interest as we came across it. The hours passed. Not all that slowly. It was relaxing in its own strange way.
Flight time finally arrived. It was a small jet that left the gate on time but taxied in circles for so long that Rob finally asked me if we were going to drive to Cedar Rapids after all. Once up the time went by and when we arrived it looked as though we might still be to my folks at a reasonable hour. But the black cat wasn’t quite done. The flight had been full and, um, weighty. Some of the heavier pieces of luggage were removed from the cargo bins just prior to take off. We had taken the two hard shell suitcases with us. One had most of our clothes and the other the car-seat. The car-seat arrived with us. The clothes, as we were to discover after another bit of a wait, would be arriving in another few hours. Fortunately we did pack a change of colors and other essentials in the carry-on case. Still, it was past Katy’s bedtime when we headed out in a downpour to my hometown.
Today the luggage was delivered to my parent’s house and we managed pretty well without it. As I said at the beginning of this piece, if I had been more superstitious, I might have run for cover, but I really don’t think that black cats or the number 13 or any other mumbo jumbo has much to do with the mishaps that occur sometimes. Not that everything happens for a reason, but sometimes things happen for the benefit of others and we just get caught up by that. It’s not a big deal. I spent the afternoon with my feet in my honey’s lap watching my daughter have a grand time playing and making conversation with the children that came and went in that play area over the course of an afternoon, and honestly worse times have been had by us all.
“Cancered?” my daughter puzzled. “Why was the plane cancered?”
Why indeed and since it was a company that contracts with Northwest, we will probably never have an answer, but there we were. It was not quite noon and our one o’clock flight to Cedar Rapids, Iowa was now rescheduled for 4:45. We suddenly had a whole lotta time on our hands.
The first order of business, after visiting the washrooms, was lunch. And, I don’t know if you’ve traveled by air lately but though there are a great many food choices from very fast to sit down and hand over your Gold Card, not a whole lot of it amounts to much more than fat and sugar and the inevitable tummy ache. For me, eating out is a quest anymore. Trying to find food that won’t upset my stomach or aggravate my allergies or even weigh me, literally, down is hard enough to do in the real world but in the confines of a TSA secure airport it is nearly impossible. Once you enter the terrorist-cleansed zone, you aren’t allowed out without penalty. That being that you have to run the screening gauntlet again and explain why you left too I would guess. I would also guess that being hungry for edible food won’t cut it as a reason.
After a search we discovered a food court on Concourse C with an Einsteins and a place that made fruit smoothies as well as Asian cuisine and an A&W. When we were all fed, we landed at the play area and settled with newspapers and Starbucks and made ourselves as comfy and at home as possible while Katy played. It was a little surprising to me how once we were fortified with reading material and beverages that Rob and I kicked back as though it were a weekend morning at our dining room table with tea and toast. I kicked off my shoes and put my feet in his lap, and we read and exchanged information of interest as we came across it. The hours passed. Not all that slowly. It was relaxing in its own strange way.
Flight time finally arrived. It was a small jet that left the gate on time but taxied in circles for so long that Rob finally asked me if we were going to drive to Cedar Rapids after all. Once up the time went by and when we arrived it looked as though we might still be to my folks at a reasonable hour. But the black cat wasn’t quite done. The flight had been full and, um, weighty. Some of the heavier pieces of luggage were removed from the cargo bins just prior to take off. We had taken the two hard shell suitcases with us. One had most of our clothes and the other the car-seat. The car-seat arrived with us. The clothes, as we were to discover after another bit of a wait, would be arriving in another few hours. Fortunately we did pack a change of colors and other essentials in the carry-on case. Still, it was past Katy’s bedtime when we headed out in a downpour to my hometown.
Today the luggage was delivered to my parent’s house and we managed pretty well without it. As I said at the beginning of this piece, if I had been more superstitious, I might have run for cover, but I really don’t think that black cats or the number 13 or any other mumbo jumbo has much to do with the mishaps that occur sometimes. Not that everything happens for a reason, but sometimes things happen for the benefit of others and we just get caught up by that. It’s not a big deal. I spent the afternoon with my feet in my honey’s lap watching my daughter have a grand time playing and making conversation with the children that came and went in that play area over the course of an afternoon, and honestly worse times have been had by us all.
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