How We Gave Mom a Vacation

Mom and Dad in Canada, 1984. By then, she had been married to her fisherman for 33 years. She was hooked.

Our mother was quite cheerful as she went about raising her brood, keeping house, and later, a career with Penney’s. A favorite image of mine is seeing her open the dining room windows, 3 in a row, to let the southern breezes in. The way the gauzy curtains ruffled out into the room, reflected Mom’s easy movements throughout the house.

She was a hard worker most days. But once in a while, she’d say ”Today, we’re going bumming.” Then, we’d climb into the blue and white Ford and go some place like her sister Norma’s farmhouse where they could chat and we could play with our cousins. Some days we’d go for a drive around Swan Lake or Lake View to see birds and wildlife.

She did like the lake!

So, every summer of my childhood, we gave her a whole week at Lake Belle Taine, near Park Rapids, MN. Of course, she was not alone on this trip. Dad and all of us kids thought we’d keep her company, just for the fun of it.

The Collaborators, in 1968. My siblings and I in Minnesota. L to R, Shirley, Tony, Karen, Marty, Ed, and Rob, (in front).

It was decided to take her in June. Fishing is best then, and that way we can all wear our favorite winter gear a little longer, in case summer hasn’t quite arrived. She’ll have a great time making sure we have our stocking caps and gloves packed.

We tried to remember her favorite things. We would say something like, ”Oh Mom, you have to pack the dented old cake pan so you can make those fresh brownies you like so well!”

And, ”Oh! You do like to sew, so be sure to stitch up a couple of new shorts outfits for the girls, with that happy, colorful print, or the green striped seersucker you let me choose.”

Such fun!

Once we got there, we treated her to all sorts of adventures.

One time, she heard the heart stopping shriek of ”Tony fell in the lake!”, repeated twice for urgency, just so she wouldn’t miss out. A quick rescue saved the youngest child, and the day.

Another time, on the last day of her vacation, when the car was all packed to go home (sweet home), she heard someone yell, ”Robbie has a hook in his leg!!” Oh how she loved that! She was able to render aid and be a nurse. It just made her feel so good! A quick trip to the hospital for stitches delayed the departure by 2 hours. This made her other sons, Eddie and Marty, happy for 2 more unexpected hours of lake time and glorious fishing!

These vacations for Mom continued into her grandparenthood, when grandchildren in their late teens came along. They would yell new phrases of delight to enliven the party, like Conor screaming “Craig, Craig, where did you go?” at 1AM while the 2 of them were canoing across the bay to the opposite shore. It just about made her heart flip, the actions of this frolicking good time duo. Such high jinks are always remembered and cherished, ha ha.

Sometimes, we would get away from the lake and the fish, and go to Deertown, where she could get up close to the charming animals.

We knew how much she loved the Go-Kart rides in Park Rapids so we took her there often. Then, she’d be so hungry that we had to take her to lunch. Wouldn’t you know it? HER favorite meal (and ours too) was a hamburger, fries, and a malt, at a formica table in a diner.

Oh! What a sweet mom! It was so much fun to treat her!

Next, we said we’d like to take her shopping. There were some nice boutiques and antique stores, but we thought a stop at the toy store would be so much better. It would make her laugh and give her joy. It did! She liked her new beach ball and floating raft very much, and she liked sharing them too, letting us play with them whenever we wanted to.

Kids on the dock. Teenager Shirley, and little sis Karen (in front) with other campers, & a rustic pontoon.

She did get to the antique store. It was attached to the laundromat, so that gave her a little bit of work to do (the laundry) before the fun (of looking at antiques). It fulfilled her by giving her a chance to live her motto, ”First we work, then we play!”

It was a blast giving her all of that laundry to do because we knew how much she relished it. And, it was a diversion from too much beach sitting (wink wink).

Park Rapids laundromat, with antique store attached. Mom and I always laughed at the clothesline with red flannel long johns on the roof.

One time we gave her a gift to open. I have to say, this was quite exciting! It was a new fishing lure, the fantastic plow jockey! Her eyes widened with surprise while opening it. She said ”Wow! My very own plow jockey!” She was so gracious, and said that Dad and the boys must be the first ones to try it out. She even wished them luck as they left the cabin to fish (and got out of her hair) for a few hours.

She probably really enjoyed those few hours to herself. But soon, her loneliness would get her to thinking about us, and then she would bake a cake or plan lunch. Breakfast was on our own, and supper was always a fish fry that Dad planned and executed, so she did not have the PLEASURE of making 3 meals a day. Sigh, poor Mom.

By the way, this lure was, and still is, legendary. It was introduced to us by our Uncle Al in Indiana. He was quite hilarious as he taught us how to use it. According to my brother, Ed, this is how the instruction went, while they were fishing in a boat: “Fish ‘em slow”, he said, ”just cast out,” at which point he took a drag from a cigarette. Then, he resumed, ”Lift the rod up, and reel in slow”. At the time, Ed thought, “What? I’m supposed to start smoking to fish these lures?” Ha!

Kelly’s (the inventor, and brand name) Original Plow Jockey. Invented in Ft. Wayne.

We knew Mom loved this vacation, because she was a little misty eyed as we were leaving and heading back to Iowa. She said it was just the most wonderful trip ever! Then, I’m pretty sure, I heard her say softly, ”Maybe next year we’ll go somewhere that does not involve fishing.”

Oh, Mom!

Enjoy your days and your vacations, wherever they are!

Shirley

Note: This blog post was inspired by our annual vacations—thank you, Dad and Mom— and a very funny short story, ”How We Kept Mother’s Day” by Stephen Leacock. I read it in a used 1962 copy of 30 STORIES TO REMEMBER, selected by Thomas Costain and John Beercroft, Doubleday & Co., Inc.

A few more random pics from Little John’s Resort on Lake Belle Taine, MN:

The Thelens, 1980, and Bryan, Brandon (held by Mom), and Shirley Thelen Neary. Photo by Dan Neary.

Shirley, borrowing a fish, for fun, 1968.

Grandpa Leny Thelen, with Leigh Neary, 1991.

The Thelen Family, pretty much the whole gang (including a few derelicts, since reformed:) at Little John’s Resort.

The Birches of Minnesota. Photo by Shirley, 1980.

The End.

On Strawberry Rhubarb Pie in Summer

The Gingham Inn’s Pie, Spirit Lake, Iowa

A few nights ago, in Omaha, we were treated to a dinner, our 2nd dinner out in the last year. It was so stimulating to be there! I’m still thinking about the conversation, atmosphere, and food, all casually elegant.

I passed on dessert until strawberry rhubarb was mentioned. I had to try it. This was the chef’s original version, not pie shaped, but somehow little bundles of strawberries and rhubarb and pastry scattered on the plate. The actual menu description was “STRAWBERRY RHUBARB TURNOVER, vanilla ice cream, almonds, mint”. Every bite was devoured and appreciated.

Mom always liked rhubarb. She tried to get her children to like it too.

“Here, try it raw”, she’d say, “dipped in sugar.” Not for me.

Then, she’d make a rhubarb sauce, like applesauce. Still, not for me.

“Maybe in a jam?” she’d offer us. No way.

“OK, then, how about strawberry rhubarb jam?” This I liked!

She may have even made a strawberry rhubarb pie, but I don’t especially remember that.

Last night, we picked up homemade pan fried chicken and sides (good gravy!) for the first time at The Gingham Inn, a take-out only place.

They had strawberry rhubarb pie on the menu. One piece came home with us. It was very good and fresh tasting!

On another summer’s day, on August 4, 2011, I wrote this about a visit to a small town Iowa cafe, and its strawberry rhubarb pie:

Driving to Lake Okoboji, I suggest that we stop in Odebolt, a town north of Denison, IA. I wanted to see the gorgeous bank building that I saw years ago. Back then, it was all boarded up, and piled with junk, as I saw through a window. Maybe now it had become a trendy, comfortable coffee shop.

We get there and I see that it looks like a functioning bank. Dan very nicely parks the car so I can see it up close. As I open my car door, he rolls his eyes a little, wanting to keep going, I think. I explain that I have to see the inside!

It is gorgeously detailed, with gold-bronze metalwork, built in 1915 by a Chicago architectural firm. After closing in the 1930’s because of the Depression, and for several decades after, it was restored and recently put back into use.

During renovation, and an original image.

The next thing I want to find out is where we can have lunch in town. The teller says there’s a cafe on Main St. It’s one block away, so that’s where we go.

The farmers are leaving their boots outside, for a very good reason.

We go inside and I see the special on the board is strawberry rhubarb pie. I picture a fresh, 2 inch thick filling with a tender flaky crust. The waitress says there is one slice left.

“I’ll take it!” I say.

“Do you want that warmed up?”

“Yes, absolutely.” And the picture in my mind gets even more enticing.

“How about Cool Whip?”

“No, thank you”, I say, thinking how wonderful real whipped cream or ice cream would be.

Then, I ask, “Is it homemade?”

“Yes,” she says, and I can hardly wait!

Now she’s carrying it to me, and I am deflated. This little, thin piece with a thick, biscuit-like crust, and what looks like canned something or other filling is on my plate. Oh well, I’ll eat it.

But, when I took that first bite, I knew I would not eat another bite of the worst pie I’ve ever had.

Even my feelings of guilt over taking the last piece in the cafe could not make me finish it.

Dan has a saying about this: “A bad piece of pie is better than no piece of pie.” I disagree.

Life is too short.

Shirley

On Looking at Stars, Searching for Perseids

Where were you when the meteors zoomed by on August 12? I hope you got to peak at a few, or as I did, many!

In the past couple of years, I had seen a few in the darkened sky over West Lake Okoboji and was extremely excited about those 3 or 4.

On August 8, 2019, I was into my 3rd August of hopefulness. The air was cool, the stars brilliant, the mosquitos gone.

The Perseids Meteor Shower is happening right now, and peaks on August 12. It appears in the area of the constellations “Cassiopeia” and “Perseus”, to the upper right of the Big Dipper.

I went to bed at 10:30 after a very long Danish movie on Netflix (“The Fortunate Man”, which I don’t recommend). This movie with an interesting beginning, lured me to the end and kept me from watching the first stars pop out.

So, at 10:30, I was torn. Do I go to bed or stay up? I usually stargaze in the early dawn, around 4 to 6 AM. I went to bed.

At midnight, I woke up and went outside. It was a good time! Wrapped in a sweatshirt fleece blanket, on our lakeside deck, I stared at the spot where I wanted to see shooting stars.

I imagined a couple of brief ones but nothing dramatic happened.

The next door neighbor’s yard lights were on, lighting up both sides of the house. I hope for them to leave in the next couple of days so those lights go off.

It is really annoying when so many neighbors have extreme outdoor lighting in this peaceful environment. I get enough bright lights in Omaha. Maybe I’ll go to my first neighborhood meeting to bring up the issue and gently plead for softer lights at night.

I do like our neighbors and am happy to see them and know that they’re there.

Around 1 AM, I was not tired at all. A speed boat went by with loud music close to shore. I liked it, kind of singing along to the familiar tune and seeing it all lit up.

There was a party of some kind across the lake. Sound carries really well at night. The young men and women were swimming, I imagined, from the giggles, excited yells, and splashes.

FUN.

So, as I gazed and enjoyed my night time, I began to think that maybe I’d spend more nights outside in summer, maybe all night, switching my days and nights around.

I also thought of rural residents who have a sky view every night. Do they appreciate it, or do they take it for granted?

It’s such a gift, with or without meteors.

The next few nights were rainy or cloudy, so no viewing.

On Monday night, the 12th, I could hardly sleep. It was clear! I hadn’t been this excited in ages, Ha! I forced myself to go to bed at 10, then woke up at 2 and went outside.

Oh no! Thick clouds everywhere; even the moon had disappeared.

Also, another neighbor had strung very bright party lights between their trees. These weren’t the little twinkle lights. These were like spotlights, especially in the deep night.

Neighbor’s party lights, festive and pretty in daylight.

It was too much. The clouds, the near full moon, and these lights were all going to impede my viewing. Desperation set in, and I contemplated a criminal act, like going over there and cutting the wire.

Instead, reluctantly, I went back inside and read for awhile.

Around 3 AM, I looked out and was very happy to see that the clouds had moved on, clearing to show so many stars.

I became a night person for the next 3 hours, setting up a cozy deck chair with a blanket, pillow, and binoculars, in the darkest corner I could find.

The rare and glorious night proceeded like this:

I waited about 10 minutes, imagining little slivers of light moving. Then it happened! ONE bright and fast streak coming out from the Perseus constellation. No mistaking what that was. I was hooked.

3:30 AM. The stars are less visible. A foggy mist is rolling in, even hiding the lights across the lake.

4:30 AM. Suddenly, it clears, and I count 12 more meteors, appearing all over the sky, making 13 so far.

4:47 AM. No. 14, now NW of Perseus.

Then, No. 15!!! This one seemed to go west to east, long and bright, over the house, dipping a little.

4:50 AM. Chilly, damp and foggy, but some stars are still out. I pick some mint from my garden, and go inside to make hot tea, and write some notes. I think, “What am I missing while I’m inside?”

4:54 AM. No.16, spotted North, under Cassiopeia. This one left a streak behind it, briefly.

Around 5 AM, the fog cleared completely, and No. 17 goes right over the house, west to east, leaving a trail.

Next, No. 18 appears low in the east, in a dawn sky.

The Perseus constellation is now horizontal as the earth has turned. It was vertical when I first came out. And I see my old friend, Orion, rising in the east.

My neck muscles are stretched and strained as I bend back and keep looking upward. I’m moving now, standing more than sitting.

5:25 AM. Meteor No. 19, in the east, falls top to bottom.

Then, No. 20, right over my head.

This is so thrilling it almost takes my breath away, as I gasp at each surprising appearance.

At about 5:30, I hear a fish jump in the water which makes me look to the east. A meteor drops again from the sky, top to bottom, long and brilliant.

Little miracles of enjoyment, or big miracles, that I’ll remember for a long time, and think back on with reverence.

I can’t wait till next August 12th!

Shirley