The Canadian Civil War: Volume 4 - Mississippi Beast

by William Wresch

As we walked out of the hospital, I think we were both wondering, now what? The last thing I wanted to do was go home and sit around the house, and I am pretty confident Elise did not want to go back to work yet, so – now what? And then I got brilliant. We had a car, we had a chauffeur, why not? We walked over to the special VIP parking area, found Gustav, and got in.

  “Gustav, we’d like to go to Portage. Do you mind?” Of course he didn’t. But while I had said “we,” it was really “I” who wanted to go, but I had my fingers crossed that Elise would like the idea.

  “Our first date,” she smiled when she made the connection. “Nice idea. We’ll see if you can get me up into a room this time.” And we both laughed.

  At this latitude, the sun doesn’t set in June until almost 9, so we had plenty of opportunity to view the farms and forests as we drove along Highway 1. Wisconsin looks pretty good at this time of the year. The crops are up and tend to be a very bright color green. They call it spring green. And of course the mosquitoes are invisible, so the view is great. We held hands, and commented on this and that – a farm with an interesting barn, a house that was painted an odd color. You know, just chitchat. But it felt really good to have this time to ourselves.

  Portage was looking its best. Proprietors had all winter to paint up and fix up as they prepared for yet another tourist season. We saw a few boats going down the canal, and there were plenty of people walking the streets. Whatever might be going on in the rest of the country, here people strolled among the shops and lingered over meals.

  We had Gustav park near the canal. At first I thought he might want to follow along with us, but apparently Portage was considered safe, so he stayed with the car. We promised to call once we determined what we would do for the evening. And with that final obligation over, we walked away. And I have to admit it felt pretty good. I felt free.

  Elise and I held hands and walked along the canal. A few of the artifacts from the old days had been preserved – winches where they had pulled a few of the larger boats along. But that was all just show now. The walk ways were wide, really a promenade now, with the canal along one side and the hotels on the other. Most of the hotels had outdoor seating, and umbrella tables. It was all far grander than when the canal had been built, but I was in no mood for historical accuracy. I enjoyed the walk and the ambiance and the lady at my side.

  “We should come back here more often.” I said. My grasp of the obvious has always been firm.

  “As I recall, before you tried to get me upstairs, you gave me a lecture on geography and water.”

  “Ah yes, the water shed lecture. Any rain that hits my right shoulder falls into the Wisconsin River and flows down the Mississippi to the Gulf of Mexico. Any drop that hits my left falls into the canal and goes down the Fox to Lake Michigan and out the St. Lawrence to the North Atlantic. I think the idea was to show how little differences at the start can lead to big differences at the end. I assume you were overwhelmed by my brilliance.”

  “Always.” We had stopped walking and were standing by the lock that connected the Fox and the Wisconsin. A boat filled with ten or twelve very happy, very drunk young people was currently waiting for the lock to drop them two feet into the Wisconsin. We stood and watched the whole process. Watching a boat drop two feet in a small lock is not exactly riveting, but we didn’t care. The day was warm, the sun was setting, and people were having fun. We even waved at the kids when their boat final powered out of the lock, going far too fast into the Wisconsin.

  “Shall we get some dinner?” I finally asked. I wasn’t really hungry, but the umbrella tables seemed to beckon.

  “Let’s eat at the same hotel where we ate last time.” Oh oh. I remember her. I remember sitting at a table with her. I remember how she looked, and remember how much I really wanted to be with her. But the hotel? Not a clue. They all looked the same – four stories, wood frame, layers and layers of paint. Which one was it?

  “Great idea. It was that one wasn’t it?” I pointed down the row of hotels, figuring it had to be one of them.

  “Yes, the Iroquois.” Fortunately there was a big sign on the back of the hotel, so I could see which one she was talking about. It looked vaguely familiar, but like I said, they pretty much all looked alike.

  “Why so many Iroquois Hotels? Did you know there is one of Mackinac Island too? One century everyone is running from the Iroquois Confederation, and the next century they are naming hotels after them.” By the time I had finished my dumb questions, we had gotten to the hotel and the matre’d was already seating us at a table near the canal. Elise always gets the best tables. “And what was that comment you made about the Iroquois to Jolliet. When the Iroquois come, everyone…”

  “When the Iroquois attack, everyone is a warrior.” Elise finished for me. “It’s not very culturally sensitive, but it sums up how we viewed them for a very long time. Of course now they are all over the Ohio Valley, and there are plenty of Iroquois in the government, but back in the day, if they came, they came to kill all and take the land. So you fought them no matter what your age or sex.”

  “It makes for tough women.”

  “And don’t forget it.” She smiled so sweetly at that moment, I took her hand. Wow I had scored. What had I ever done to deserve her? I slid my chair even closer to her and put an arm around her.

  “Tough and beautiful. Can I buy you dinner, tough and beautiful lady?”

  “Yes, and then you can find out if they have an available room in the hotel.”

  So, the day ended far better than it began. Thank you Portage.