Toby’s, in Hinckley, was our first stop. As we ate, we talked about all the places we were going to see. Paul and I had been to Northern Minnesota several times but the girls had only been as far as Duluth. We finished breakfast and continued heading north with a dozen donuts for the next morning. The four girls protested as we drove through Duluth without stopping. They loved the city; watching the huge ore ships come into the harbor was a favorite thing to do. We promised them that we would stop on our way home.
We pulled the van over when we saw the sign for Gooseberry Falls. I remembered seeing it for the first time when I was a little girl. To see the Lower Falls, we had to walk down never-ending stairs. I hadn’t thought about the number of steps when I was younger. I did now. There’s nothing like age to promote attention to details.
The girls ran ahead of Paul and me. We warily negotiated the steep steps while trying to look ahead to where our children were. By the time Paul and I reached the bottom of the stairs, the girls were skipping along on the slippery rocks with Colleen in tow. They wanted to be closer to the wonderful waterfall. I pictured my youngest being dropped on one of the rocks, never to be the same again. Even though I had no desire to be almost underneath the waterfall, I had to follow them to assure her safety. With that thought in mind, I went ahead of Paul who was readying the camera.
I found it slow going on the smooth wet rocks. I wished with each step that I had suction cups on the bottom of my tennis shoes. I was so engrossed in trying to find the flattest stones to walk on that I lost sight of our children. I looked up and spotted the four of them together. At least, I was heading in the right direction. I reached them short of breath and thinking about how I was going to get back to Paul, the stairs, and the van.
“Hi, girls.”
“Hi, Mom.”
“I’ll help Colleen,” I said emphatically. I took in another deep breath as I steadied myself on the perfect-sized boulder. I reached out my hand and felt the boulder shift. I pulled my hand back until I found my footing again.
“She’s fine,” Anne stated. “In fact, we’re all ready to go back.”
“Really. Don’t you want to look any longer?”
“No, we looked at it.”
“Isn’t it beautiful?”
There was a whoosh of air as they scurried past me, feet barely touching stone.
I pivoted each of my feet separately, as I turned my body around. I was glad Colleen wasn’t with me at this point. I tried to follow the girl’s lead but their footsteps had already disappeared on the wet rocks.
Heartened to see a large, flat slab in front of me, I decided to blaze my own trail. I stretched my right foot, ankle, calf, thigh in the air, searching for the rock. My toes, then the sole, then the heel of my right foot found the rock. My left leg elongated, until I did something that resembled the splits. Even in my earlier athletic days, I had never been able to do the splits. This was the best near-splits I had ever done. I would have been excited under different circumstances but I didn’t want to be stuck in such a compromising position for long. I had to take action. I hauled my left leg over with the help of my left arm. With both feet planted on the rock, I peered off to the right, left, and straight ahead. There was no place to step. Everything was submerged.
I was stranded.
I searched for anyone who looked familiar. I wasn’t ready to yell HELP yet and make a total fool out of myself. Panic began to gnaw at me. It wasn’t a bad panic because the worst thing that could happen would be that I would slip on a submerged stone, get both my tennis shoes filled with icy water, have my feet fly up in the air, and bash my head against my perfect flat perch. Never to be the same again.
“Mom, go this way,” Anne shouted. She pointed to a rock I hadn’t seen.
After the gracefulness of getting onto this rock, getting off it should have been a piece of cake. If only there were some hand rails. My arms automatically went up at a right angle to my body for balance. I felt like a tightrope walker.
My toes went to the edge of the rock that Anne stood upon. She grabbed my arm and pulled me onto the rock. Anne led me to the safety of Paul and the other girls.
“I’m glad you went to save Colleen,” Paul said, smiling.
“She would have been in big trouble without me,” I said as I laughed.
“I got some good pictures.”
“You did?”
“I did.”
I thanked God for limber, almost twelve-year-olds for the sake of both my body and our family photo albums.
We still wanted to see Split Rock Lighthouse before we stopped in Lutsen for the night. We drove along the highway when I saw a petting zoo I remembered from many years before. I should have noticed that there were no cars in the parking lot. We had to go through the gift shop to get to the animal area. We bought some corn kernels to feed them.
The woman opened the door to let us out into the yard. The six of us had our cones with the corn inside. The animals came to greet us, mouths agape. We were crowded in the entrance with the door closed behind us. We were the only human beings there.
It was different than it had been when I was young. The animals were much bigger!
Anne didn’t like the 150-pound young buck with sprouting antlers. He squeezed against her, trying to steal her cone. She threw it up in the air and the buck disappeared.
The llamas were not to be outdone. They came over to us looking for food.
I had Colleen with me and Paul was moving the other girls into the yard. For some reason these animals didn’t bother me at all. Thinking about being crushed by large animal bodies, or gored by fur-covered antlers, didn’t disturb me in the same way as dashing my head against a stone.
“Move out of the way,” I said to the pair of 100-pound llamas.
We walked into the yard. I held Colleen’s hand, wanting her to see the porcupines and raccoons. To tell you the truth, I found it odd that porcupines were in a petting zoo. But then, bucks with antlers weren’t the usual fare either.
The girls petted some cute little goats. Our food disappeared quickly. Some of the animals were much less interested in us now that we were empty-handed. Anne was happy with this development, but the young buck had taken a fancy to her. Anne came to stand beside me. The buck stood beside her.
“I want to go,” Anne said.
“Okay, let’s go.”
We made it back to the door without calamity, when the buck made an abrupt move and blocked our way out. Anne was starting to hyperventilate.
“Move,” I yelled. I hoped the woman inside would hear me, but there was no response.
The buck stayed put as he ogled Anne. It was hard to tell if he was blinking, or just trying to show off his sweeping eyelashes.
Paul came over, and we both shouted MOVE at the same time.
The buck must have decided Anne wasn’t his type after all because he gave us room to open the door. We were through the door and out in the car in a couple of seconds. No one wanted to search for trinkets in the gift shop.
Split Rock Lighthouse was a few short miles from Gooseberry Falls. Anne remained quiet en route. The lighthouse—as interesting as I remembered it—was completed in 1910 and used until 1960. Since then, it’s been part of the Minnesota State Park system.
We toured the lighthouse and walked up the steps to see the huge refractory lens. The octagonal lighthouse stood high above Lake Superior with a dazzling view of the Lake. We inspected the lighthouse keeper’s house, looked at the other buildings, and took some pictures with the Lake in the background.
We meandered to the gift shop area.
Anne’s vivaciousness hadn’t returned. I could have teased her, but I waited for her to bring it up.
“Why do you think he liked me?”
“I don’t know. Maybe you look like a deer.”
“No, I mean it. Why did he like me?”
“Maybe you smell good.”
“I don’t have any perfume on.” Anne put her fingers in
her mouth and began to chew her nails. She hadn’t done that since the bear park in Rapid City. “They have better senses of smell than we do.”
“Maybe he’s really dumb,” ten-year-old Clare interjected.
“Maybe,” I agreed.
“I’m glad he wasn’t full grown,” Anne said with a shudder.
Colleen and Erin came over to hear what we were talking about. I pushed up Colleen’s glasses on her small nose. One of us did this many times a day.
“You guys ready to go?” I asked.
“Yup.”
We arrived in the Lutsen area in time for an early dinner. Each of the girls had two dollars of nickels left. They had had some minor disagreements in the van, but nothing that warranted a nickel being taken away.
We finished eating and went outside to sit and marvel at my favorite lake.
Whenever I’ve been to what Minnesotans call the North Shore, I am astounded by the beauty. The waterfalls and rushing streams all flow down to magnificent Lake Superior. I roll down the windows in the car to hear the surging water, and to smell the sweet air. Rolling hills and picturesque forests make every turn something that could be on a postcard. All I can do is gaze in wonder.
People compare Lake Superior to the ocean. The wildness and power are there when a strong wind blows.
When the wind is elsewhere, the gentle lapping of the water gives me a quiet, peaceful soul.
And the stars. What can I say about the stars?
We were on our way to Thunder Bay, Canada, by nine the next morning. We ate breakfast in Grand Marais, another of my favorite spots.
We drove by Grand Portage because we were planning to tour Old Fort William in Canada. The voyageurs had used both places for their fur trading.
The sun shining on the water made the lake shimmer like crystalline jewels as far as I could see. As the altitude climbed above sea-level, scenic overlooks began to appear. One of the overlooks before the passage into Canada was so gorgeous that I was left open mouthed; not unlike our friendly buck in the petting zoo.
The sign saying “Welcome to Canada” greeted us. We consulted our map and then headed in the direction of Old Fort William. The temperature climbed with the altitude. Hot waves rose from the asphalt as we drove away from the cool lake breezes.
Nine
Paper Suits Me
Besides love, the greatest gift you can give your children is laughter, especially at yourself.
It must have been the heat.
Ninety-five degrees and humid gets to me; not only physically, but mentally as well.
We had traipsed around Old Fort William, wowing over beaver pelts while the sweat ran down our six faces, upper torsos, and settled in our belly buttons. It was hard to walk by the time we got to the encampments behind the fort. Since none of our four children said, “Who cares,” I had to feign an interest in the guide and his story. Wrung out is a nice way of putting how I felt by the end of the tour.
Paul had booked a hotel in Thunder Bay that had a giant waterslide in the pool area. Our children didn't know about it yet. As we drove towards the hotel, I thought all I would want to do was take a shower, change clothes, and sit watching my husband and children propelling themselves down the slide.
The girls screamed when they saw it. They put on their swimming suits, walked around the whole pool area, and counted the 10 twists and turns of the slide. Then they jumped into the water and waited for the slide to open. I sat happily at a table with Colleen on my lap.
The slide opened at precisely five o'clock.
“Can Colleen go down with me?” Anne asked.
“How can she?”
“On my lap. I'll hang on to her.”
“Are you sure?” I asked. Colleen had been in the water from the time she was a baby and she was already a fair swimmer. She didn't mind getting her face or anything else wet. But she hadn't gone down a waterslide before. From the time Paul made the reservations, I had planned on her being with him.
“I'm sure.”
“What do you think, Paul?” I asked.
“I think it's okay. Anne's careful.”
“Guard her with your life,” I said to Anne.
“I will.”
I took Colleen's glasses off and put them on the table. I blew up her swimmies, the inflatable arm bands that went on her upper arms. She was ready. Anne took her hand as they headed for the stairs. Clare and Erin followed right behind them. Paul waited in the pool at the end of the slide.
I don't remember if our children were the first ones down the slide, but once they started coming, it was one after the other. They seemed to be going so fast.
“Be careful,” I yelled.
Anne and Colleen had just finished the slide. Anne landed standing up as she lifted her sister into the air. Since there was no splash, not even a drop of water fell onto Colleen's hair.
Colleen climbed up the ladder on the edge of the pool and stood in front of me. Her feet alternated her weight as she shifted back and forth, black eyes glistening.
“Was it fun?”
“Really fun. Can I go again?”
“Sure,” I said.
I was beginning to wish that I hadn't forgotten my swimming suit. Every single person got right back in line. It just looked like so much fun. Like Colleen, I had never gone down a waterslide before. But unlike the rest of my family, I was afraid of the water. It was too bad they didn't make swimmies big enough to fit around my motherly upper arms.
“Why didn't I bring my swimming suit?” I asked my husband.
“Are you thinking about going down the slide?”
“Maybe.”
“Really? I can't believe it.” Paul had already gone down the slide several times.
“I'm thinking about it, but I can't go down in my underwear.” The thought of years of cellulite build-up and sagging flesh was not a pretty thought, and it would be an even less pretty sight. “I wish I had my suit,” I said.
“Go to the front desk and ask if they sell any,” Paul said.
“Do you think they do?”
“I don't know. Ask.”
I mulled it over for a short while. I couldn't wonder any longer. I walked out of the pool area and approached the front desk.
“Ma'am, um, this might sound like a weird question, but do you sell swimming suits?”
“Sure do. They're ten dollars,” the woman behind the desk said.
“Great.” I couldn't believe my luck.
“One piece or two, Hon?” the woman asked.
“Can I look at both of them?”
“Sure.” She held up the print two-piece bikini.
“Isn't that kind of small?” I asked. It looked as if there was barely enough material to cover my well endowed hind end. Anyway, my bikini days had gone by the wayside after four pregnancies, stretch marks, and permanent weight gain.
“Wanna look at the one piece?” She held up the one-piece suit. It was the same flowery design as the bikini.
“Okay. What material are they made of?”
People were gathered behind me at the desk. Some of them were listening to my conversation and looking at each other.
“Paper,” she said.
“Paper!” The image I had of myself catapulting down the slide as my suit disintegrated was frightening to say the least. “That's okay. Thanks anyway.” I started walking away from the desk.
“They're very strong, miss.”
“Strong enough for a waterslide?”
“Yes. Look.” She took the suit and pulled at the seams. The stitches didn't budge.
“Do they rip at all?” I examined the one-piece. I stretched the seams in all different directions. There were no gaps in the tight sutures.
“Never had a problem,” the woman said.
People were catching each other's eyes, mouthing “Sure” and “I want to see this.”
“Okay.” I handed her a ten dollar bill.
“Thank you, miss. I hope you enjoy the slide.”
> “I hope so too. Thank you.” It came out in a sincere way when I said it, but I wondered if I should be so polite as I prepared to make a total fool out of myself.
“This heat is something, eh? It's never this hot,” the woman said almost apologetically.
Now I felt more at home. The Canadians talked as much about the weather as Minnesotans.
I went back to the room and changed into my paper suit, inspecting the texture again. It seemed strong, more like heavy linen than paper. Just in case of a rupture, though, I wore a tee shirt over it.
“I'm ready,” I said when I arrived at the pool.
My family was waiting to escort me to the steps going up to the waterslide. There were two girls in front of me and two others holding up the rear. Paul was in the pool anticipating my landing.
“How do you slow down?” I kept asking.
No one answered. My children glanced at each other. The eye contact with me was non-existent.
“C'mon, Mom,” Anne said. She walked in front of me with Colleen.
We made it up the probably 50 steps without mishap. I didn't realize it was so high until I got to the top.
The line moved rapidly. Anne and Colleen departed.
It was my turn now. No one was in front of me. The pounding in my chest let me know my heart was still beating. The blood coursed fiercely through my body. I was quickly going into the “fight or flight” mode.
“Do I sit?”
The lifeguard at the top of the slide nodded his head.
I sat waiting for my signal to go. I swallowed the modest amount of saliva left in my mouth.
“How do you slow down?” I asked.
He looked at me strangely and said, “Just sit up straight.”
“Okay,” I was sitting up straighter already.
“Go.” The man motioned to me.
“ME! Right now?”
I was starting to sweat but it wasn't from the heat. I stared at the long line behind me. I decided it would be more embarrassing crawling over strangers and family than drowning in the three and a half feet of water at the end.
Warning!: Family Vacations May Be Hazardous to Your Health Page 6
