The Furious Spinner

(This is one long post, but I broke it up into three, so you could have a bit of a break; I also posted them so that you could read them in order all at one time if you wished. I'm still on the road, in Boonville again tonight. The last couple of days have been a bit of strain, so I haven't gone back and read this post over. I hope it makes sense, and I hope you enjoy it.)

Monday

I am in Ann Arbor, Michigan sitting in the huge Borders store here. Across the street is the Michigan Theater where Mario and I went to see Dr. Strangelove about 27 years ago. The first Borders ever in the world was just down the street from here. We used to wander around it until the smoke got to us; back then, Borders was the place you went to smoke and read books.

Mario is at my parents’ home out in the country near Brighton, sleeping. He’s got a cold or something and not feeling up to par. My parents are napping, too. It is a beautiful warm sunny day. Perfect autumn weather. The trees are gold and green and red and orange. Spectacular! My mom, dad, and I went for a walk down the road from where they live, down the road from where I grew up. My father was too cold. It had suddenly gotten chilly. Recently the doc told him his heart which has healed itself a couple of times already may have to be operated on again. They’ll check him in two month. In a soft shaky voice my mother told me she was worried she has dementia. She says she tells the doctors that she doesn’t feel all there but no one seems to listen. I encouraged her to go to a good gerontologist so she could know if the symptoms were from her medication or stress or dementia.

What would any of us do to take away the pain and suffering of those we love?

Before we came here, we went to Canadaland. After Salem, we travelled up through New England to Canada. In Vermont, the traffic thinned and we travelled through mile after mile of colorful deciduous forests. I made a snap judgment from my highway seat: I could live here.

Plus Vermont had wifi in their rest stops and their rest stops have green houses and use recycled water.

I decided I was going to be free and easy about where we stayed that night. It was Tuesday night and it’s always easy to find a place to stay on Tuesday night. We got up to Montreal and it’s like a whole ‘nother country up there. Stopped at a place to get gasoline. I asked for the restroom (in my best French, which ain’t that good). The man told me “out back.” I said, “Oh, they’re outside?” He shook his head. “Out back, out back.” At this point the woman turned around and said, “You go out there.” I said, “Oh, you mean--” and I pantomimed pulling down my slacks (can you believe it?) “--you mean go outside and squat?” “Yes!” They were delighted that I understood.

It was dark by the time we got lost trying to stop in Montreal. We decided to keep going to Ottawa. We eventually made it to Ottawa, late, and we tried 10 hotels before we found one that had a room, and it was a cancellation that opened up just as Mario was leaving. Apparently in Ottawa the busiest hotel nights are Monday and Tuesday. They cater to business people. People lobbying the government? Working for the gov?

This night was the only night I actually felt like I was on a long awful journey.

We got to Mario’s Mom on Wednesday afternoon. We spent the next few days hanging out with her.


(Mario's Mom Agica and Mario; Agica and me.)

Mario got sick on Saturday. We left on Sunday so we could stop and see his brother and his family who lived near Toronto. We had a nice couple of hours there, and then it was time to head back to the states.

We left his brother’s house just before dark. There was lots of construction on the way to Michigan, and it was a wee bit stressful. When we crossed the Ambassador Bridge in Windsor into Detroit, we expected to jump right onto the highway. It was about 10:30 p.m. Unfortunately there was construction there, too, and we had to wander through various Detroit neighborhoods to find our way to the expressway. This was nerve-wracking. When I was growing up, Detroit was the murder capitol of the nation. When I was a girl I stayed with my aunt who lived in Detroit, and she wouldn’t let us sit on the porch if anyone was outside walking down the sidewalk.

At home, I heard about the murders in Detroit nearly every night on the news. When I was in college, I used to drive from Ypsi to the Renaissance Center in downtown Detroit (it’s called something else now), and I’d sit there and write. And we came in to see plays, go to the art museum, or eat in Greek town. But I always knew where I was then and where I was going. Except once. I got lost. I stopped at a gas station to ask someone how to get where I was going. I was naïve and innocent and believed since I intended no harm to anyone, no harm would come to me. The gas station attendant was fairly disgusted with my ignorance and gave me directions to get out of that part of town as fast as I could.

All this is to say that I didn’t know where I was last night in the dark in the night where no one can hear me scream...and I was a little nervous. I told Mario to keep his head down.

I have the street sense of a country girl. I know there are lions, and tigers and bears out there.

But we made it home. My parents were asleep when we arrived last night, so we tiptoed into the house. (They now live next door to the house where I grew up.) I put Mario to bed in one of the tiny beds upstairs. (We are a tiny people.) Brought him water and tissues and such to make him comfy, and then I went to another room with another tiny bed. There was no room for two of us anywhere. Outside, someone was drag racing. 120 mph I would guess. The moon silvered the lawn and my father’s flower beds. And I could see stars through the skylight.

I was home.

Kind of.

I fell to sleep.

Felt a little wrenched.

Later...

Labels: photos, travel

2 comments

2 Comments:

Next year sweetie, you and Mario can stay with us in the west end and never mind the darned hotels (always a hassle in a civil service town like this one).

I am just so PO'd that I missed you due to the computer barfies. Love and BB, Cate

PS: Does Mario's mother live somewhere near Ottawa?

By  kerrdeLune (cate), at 5:02 AM  

Yes, next time, Cate! I was heartsick over missing you. But again, every time I grasped a hold of the Old Mermaid around my neck, I thought of you. Next time I'll get your phone number. Mario's Mom lives in Sudbury; Mario's sis lives in Ottawa, but she was away and we missed her too. :-(

By  Kim Antieau, at 7:46 PM  

Post a Comment

All photographs and written material copyright © 2003-2008 by Kim Antieau unless otherwise indicated. May not be used without permission.