Papa recently returned from the old home state. I returned for my brother John’s memorial. Perhaps it was a journey that will mark one of my last visits to Badger land. Never say never but it’s getting close. Seeing family and old friends stirred up all the pleasant memories of the past. In retrospect I had very few bumps in the road of life. Nearing the end, perhaps it’s easier to bury less favorite times but even if I search I don’t recall many bad times. Losing John was tough. We were very much on the same wave length. I don’t have enough fingers than can count the times I’ve already thought of a missing detail and counseled that I will just ask John when we next talk.
What has surprised me since my return is being more attuned to memories. After a death and at a memorial it is natural that memories of the past rise to the forefront. Yet, weeks later two movies pop up on TV from the 1950’s that struck me because the actresses reminded me of a first date in high school. “The Actress” and “Brigadoon”. A month ago I would have channel surfed right past those films. Watching portions of each reminded me that I was able to exercise good judgment in my youth. Something was churning in Papa’s mind in the fifties. She was just as good looking as the actresses. It also helps explain my use of the name Fiona in my second self published novel.
Recently, I took the time to sit quietly while watching your Nana’s nemesis linger in her garden. I failed in my shoo away duties and simply enjoyed looking at a deer. As I did so often up north with my brothers. Each night our Uncle Jim drove us up and down country roads of Oneida County looking for and counting deer seen. Hundreds was not an exaggeration for our summer sessions with Uncle Jim. Fortunate does not adequately describe how lucky we brothers were to spend an entire summer near Lake Tomahawk. Courtesy of Uncle Jim, chief cook and bottle washer.
Ironic that another memory of Uncle Jim came courtesy of an old high school friend. While home for the memorial I had breakfast with that buddy. And, for the very first time I learned he went to the grade school of which Uncle Jim was principal. (Why he had the summers off to give us time in nature. ) That grade school contained a segment of handicap kids in attendance. My friend went there rather than to the school near his home. I never made the connection in all the years I’ve known him; including the need to attend McKinley. Again memories of visiting McKinley and its assortment of physical therapy equipment was revived.
A few weeks later I had finished a swim on the first warm day in months. It was warm enough to sit for a time near the pool. I like my sun even without the #2 Coppertone. It was quiet. A good opportunity to enjoy the sun. That is when I recalled what was a most contradictory moment from 1971. The military had a swimming pool on our base in Vietnam. It was available on Sunday afternoon for us. We got 1/2 day off each week. A sort of in country recreation and relaxation. Finished swimming, I was sunning. (Which as I write this reminds me of the picnicking scene discussion in a John Wayne Calvary film.) There Papa was, pursuing a tan, when I heard the distinctive sound of a Huey helicopter. It flew just overhead and landed across a nearby field. The 24th Evacuation Hospital. I might just as well been engaged in frivolous picnicking when I saw some poor GI getting off loaded on a stretcher. So, more than fifty years later I conjured up that day on a sunny day far removed from that sadness.