John

 

John in a fez and with a nail through his head.

 

I don't have enough words to write about my Uncle John.

Ones that come to mind easily are: Funny, generous, smart, joyful, loving, curious, enthusiastic, and kind. 

The only negative words that cross my mind would be: Occasionally inappropriate. Some jokes didn't land. Some attitudes took time to evolve, but they eventually did. Because John was a true lifelong learner who never stopped reading and wanting to know more in order to be better and more compassionate.

My Uncle John was the youngest of his three siblings, and from his earliest days provided some of the all-time most enjoyed family stories. He was often compared to the Eddie Haskall character from TV as always a source for a bit of trouble.

As a baby in an old version of a wheelie saucer, he once got into the kitchen garbage and rubbed coffee grounds into his hair right before Grandma had company arriving and she'd spent all day cleaning everything. She said it was a terrible mess and he just grinned and laughed.

My grandma used to talk about how my mom and Joe would be contentedly playing a game on the floor, only to have John toddle over and sit on the board.

Once as a small child John didn't get his way and his parents heard him yell and stomp loudly up every single stair in protest. At the top there was a pause as he listened for a reaction, and finally said out loud to himself, "Well, that didn't work."

John once got separated from Grandma in a department store, and after a frantic search she located him sitting on the floor of a shop reading a comic book. He looked up and said, "Where have you been?" 

When John was a teenager learning to drive, my grandpa used to describe a harrowing trip around the block where he tried to direct John away from various obstacles such as garbage cans and curbs and parked cars. In Grandma's telling of the story, it always ended with Grandpa simply walking silently into the house afterward and putting himself into a room behind a closed door for a long time. Supposedly John called after him, "How did I do?"

Possibly my favorite story of John as a kid is how he used to ask his dad for an advance on his allowance, and then still collect his full allowance at the end of the week. His siblings were annoyed, but didn't protest until the day Grandpa reached into his pocket and didn't have enough for a full allowance for everyone, and started to reduce equally what each person was given. My mom and Joe cried foul, pointing out John regularly got more than they did due to his frequent advances. My grandfather was an accountant for Sears.

John's college stories always seemed heavily edited for young ears, but we did hear he hung around with a frat-mate named Bubble, and it was implied much beer was consumed and much fun was had. Most famously it was described how little he studied, but how infuriatingly well he did anyway. John used to regale us with how diligently his wife Charlotte studied, and how he decided to crack open a book only the night before exams. He startled everyone by graduating magna cum laude, and then turned to his parents and said if only he'd studied an additional day he "could have been summa cum laude!" 

He was overwhelmingly well-liked in his town of Marysville, despite being an outspoken Democrat in a bright red sea of Republicans. My favorite testament to his abilities as a lawyer came in the form of a condolence message to my cousin Tony a day or so after John's passing. The guy said John was the nicest person who ever prosecuted him, and even though he disagreed with the verdict, he admired John's professionalism. Then he added a P.S. saying, "I was totally guilty. Lol! That man did a professional job."

John's relationship with his mom after my grandpa died was really funny. Grandma was organized and practical and punctual. John less so, much to her exasperation. 

He used to do Grandma's taxes for her (mine too, when I was a student at OSU) and the only payment he charged family was that he got to check the box for a donation to the Presidential Election Campaign Fund. But as a lawyer he did a lot of taxes, and he treated the April 15th deadline for mailing it all in as a holiday. I think Gram went with him once to the post office which had extended hours and a band playing, and she said he celebrated with the postal employees as he turned everything in at the last possible minute. This always made my grandma anxious to have something important happen right up against a deadline, but that was John.

John also used to happily announce if we were all out to dinner that the check should "go to Mom." He paid for many things and made sure she was always comfortable and cared for, so she could certainly manage to pay for dinner, but I think he just liked the look on the waitstaff's faces when they'd start to hand him the bill at the end of the meal and he would loudly make sure we all knew Grandma was paying. She always smiled and shook her head and pulled out her wallet.

He made sure Grandma had a really comfortable chair up at the cottage that she could nap in. He's been the one tending her grave since she died.

I had the opportunity to live in my Uncle John's house for a summer when I was in college. I needed to live somewhere in Ohio before the start of my sophomore year in order to qualify for in-state tuition, and John found me a job with the Department of Transportation in Marysville. I mostly worked as a flagger on a road crew, standing in jeans and boots and a reflective vest and hardhat in hundred degree heat. I think John also intended to make me appreciate the value of a college degree after a summer of lower skilled work. There was a time where there was a produce truck on fire that necessitated all the cargo be discarded, and all the DOT workers got to help ourselves to as many singed vegetables as we could carry. John laughed when I walked in with all that food saying I was finally pulling my weight in the house. The wildest day was when a box fell off a truck (that according to local news was either going to, or coming from, somewhere) and they had to call a hazmat team to investigate. The call went out to any truck in town with lights on it to go to the scene. I was in a truck with a couple of guys, and we chose to park under an overpass where it was shady. It was pointless for us to be there, so we may as well have been pointless in a cooler spot. After a little while, some official stuck his head in our truck to tell us to "EVACUATE MARYSVILLE!" How? To where? John absolutely loved that story.

Living in John's house was really fun. My youngest cousin, Mary, is ten years younger than I am, so she was nine and I was nineteen. We were roommates who somehow shared clothes despite the age difference, and she could sleep through anything so I would play music in our room in the morning as I got dressed. I loved time with cousin Tony and Aunt Char. Nobody was ever on time to anything. Meals were erratic but good. Friends and relatives came and went because everyone was always welcome.

That was always a given. If you showed up at John and Charlotte's house, you were welcome. If they weren't there, they'd tell you where the key was (under the flat rock at the top of the basement steps) and you could help yourself to whatever you needed. They provided a space that was a safety net for many. One of my kids once told me in a fit of worry about her future that she was afraid of failure and ending up homeless. I said to her, "Do you really think John and Charlotte would ever let that happen?" Because of course she knew we would be there for her always, and her grandma, and any number of family and friends who would not hesitate to help if she needed it, but the sheer bedrock of love and stability that was John and Charlotte was the most reassuring foundation I could conjure, and it helped.

John and Charlotte hosted many a Christmas Eve dinner. Possibly the best Christmas event was when we all left John alone to decorate the tree--which he insisted he could do--only to come home to the big reveal of the tree in the stand still bundled tightly in its net, a string of lights wound around it, and a giant bow slapped on the front. We laughed about it the whole night, and enjoyed a Christmas Rockin' Eve exchanging presents as we danced. I've seen many trees, but none as memorable as that one.

They'd have us for Easter if we were around. They held baby showers and birthdays and general cookout events in their home. They hosted the reception for my brother Arno's wedding to Deepanjana. 

John was the judge who married Arno and Deepanjana in the courthouse in Marysville. Arno's not particularly interested in common traditions, and was somewhat unprepared for ceremony details. We'd gone down to High Street in Columbus trying to find rings for them the day of the wedding, and the only things we could find were in this funky shop with incense and tie-dye shirts, and they found silver rings with lizards. Arno's had lizards all around. Deepanjana's was a slender ring with a single lizard on top. When John led them through the ceremony and got to the exchange of rings, we listened as he gently gave instructions to Arno, "Left hand. Next finger. Lizard up."

John loved travel. John loved history. John loved to read and his library was always one of my favorite rooms to spend time in. John loved the Boy Scouts and Detroit Coney Island Hot Dogs and his cats. 

More than anything, John loved his family. He adored his wife in a way no one could question. He used to call her "the Bunny" and he liked to say sweetly, "The Bunny makes my life a living hell" which always made her laugh and say, "Oh, John!" There were many things that made Charlotte say, "Oh, John!"

He loved his son and his daughter and his brother and his sister and his mom and his dad, and if you ever met him you got the sense there was love enough for you, too. He made love feel both special and commonplace. It was in abundant supply. 

He made meaningful contributions to his community without any desire for acknowledgement. He was generous in a way that should put wealthier people to shame, because in all ways that matter he was far richer than any billionaire could hope to be. 

John was a wonderful uncle. He was the kind of uncle who wanted to make you laugh and spoil you with all the stuff he knew parents wouldn't indulge. He gave big bear hugs.

He specialized in a sliding severed finger gag that never failed to amuse. The ultimate time for the finger trick was once in church after the pastor mentioned the many miracles of Jesus, and Tony said his dad caught his eye and flashed the finger slide as if to say "You want to see a miracle?" Tony said it was very hard not to laugh.

He would give us noisy presents like a Mr Microphone (which only a sibling would give another sibling's kids) and was quick to hand out treats. Even in recent years where I was now a middle-aged adult, he would give me cash as we were passing through on our way to New York so I could spend it on something fun there. John helped move heavy furniture into my first apartment in college. He drove me to Toledo several times to transfer me to my mom's car so she could take me home to Detroit on school breaks. All of his nieces and nephews knew he was proud of them. He loved us.

And John loved my kids, so he was not only a great uncle, he was a great Great Uncle. He was delighted to have my kids around, and regularly offered to take them if Ian and I ever wanted to travel alone. I also enjoy my kids, so never found a time where I would want to be apart from them on a trip, but I was always touched by the offer to watch them for us. Maybe I should have done that. I'm sure they would have had a blast. He took us to see Indian Mounds, and the topiary garden downtown, and bookstores. He read to my kids from "My Father's Dragon."

As the baby of his family, I think John had a special affinity for my youngest child. We didn't often have sugared cereal in our home, but when we came to visit in Ohio, John wanted to provide all the treats. He once handed Quinn a box of some sort of sugar bombs and said it was all for her and it wasn't for anyone else to eat. She demurred, because maybe that seemed like too much, but John insisted, and all that cereal was only Quinn's. Every subsequent visit over many years, John always provided Quinn with her own personal bottle of Hershey's chocolate syrup. He knew being the baby meant always getting the hand-me-downs, and always having to share. John made it clear the chocolate syrup was for Quinn alone. 

John proudly displayed art my kids made. (To be fair, they make unusually good art.) He had hoped to visit Aden's college and have her give him a tour. He offered out of the blue to find Mona a job down in Ohio and let her live in one of their spare rooms when she was uncertain about what to do after high school. (She didn't feel that was the right direction for her at the time, but the fact that the option existed was incredibly reassuring at a time of many unknowns.) John was easily one of their favorite people in the world. This loss is hard on them.

Any average day with John was a good day. Aden described how her favorite was a time he was in Milwaukee, and the two of them drove around on errands, stopping for gas (where John chatted with the cashier about how he loved the city), and picking up pastries. The Canfora Bakery near the park had changed ownership, and the new pastries weren't as good as the old ones. The two of them started out excited about their cheese danishes, then slowly agreed the quality had declined. Aden said it felt nice to be included in a more grownup conversation, where her opinion was treated as equally valid. John didn't talk down to people. John was genuinely interested in what children had to say.

John passed away in his sleep after a birthday celebration in a restaurant for his daughter. He got to enjoy time with people he loved and hold court as he did at a table with good food. He was in his home next to his wife with no thought he wouldn't see the morning. In many ways he went exactly as many of us would wish to. Maybe it's better to have some warning. Maybe it's not. John had a wonderful and full life. I think he might have been painfully aware of how much more he wanted to do and how much he was leaving behind if he had known ahead he was about to die, so in John's case it was maybe best to go while content and looking forward to the next day.

News in small towns spreads quickly. Before the sun was up, people were already contacting my cousin saying how sorry they were, and food began arriving. The number of people coming forward to say, "John was my best friend" is moving. I can't believe how many plates of cookies keep coming to the house.

Funerals are strange things. There's grief side by side with joy. There are moments to worry the joy feels disrespectful, and other times when we know it's how we survive. There are people gathered we haven't seen in a long time. Having Domino along was not convenient, but she makes everyone smile, not just me. 

The sheer number of people who wanted to pay respects required a full day of viewings at the funeral home, in addition to the scheduled viewing prior to the funeral the next day. The open casket was hard for me, but it was very John. He was in his scoutmaster uniform, holding a favorite book (The Frontiersman by Allan W. Eckert). The room was filled with flowers and photos and a small shrine to beloved dog Smokey Joe. The music piped in included The Beatles, Paul Simon, and the soundtrack to Hamilton.

The receiving line in the morning was out the door and an hour-long wait. People drove from miles away. I don't know how my aunt and cousins had the strength to continue to greet so many people so graciously for such a stretch. 

The weather has been beautiful. The young cousins are enjoying each other's company. We somehow ended the viewing day feeling good, despite the terrible loss, which is how John would have wanted it. He would have enjoyed this gathering so much. I hope I play well for the funeral service later today.

John was a big personality with one of the biggest hearts I've ever known. John was funny, but when he was with his brother Joe the two of them were next level hilarious. At Joe's funeral only four months ago, John spoke of his brother going ahead of him into the afterlife to scout things out.

I thought we had longer with my Uncle John. I'm trying to remember to be grateful to have had him as long as we did, but it's hard not to be greedy and want more. I loved him dearly. I wish he weren't gone. 


ADDENDUM April 4, 2026:

The funeral was touching and funny. Mary read a poem by John from a book my mom recently made about his library. She finished with a poem John often quoted:

"You can look at a book and better still read it.

A book is a friend when you happen to need it.

And when you are through you can still think about it.

So hooray for books! Don't say it but shout it."

Those of us in attendance who knew the poem recited it along with her. 

Tony then proceeded to give the best eulogy I've ever heard. It was funny and sweet and moving and John would have loved it. The friend's eulogy that followed included the impromptu story of when Charlotte was very pregnant and someone asked if John was excited, and he replied, "I would be if I knew for sure I was the father." (I'm sure that got another "Oh, John!")

I played solo viola for about 45 minutes during the visitation. I used a viola I built for a friend in Ohio rather than the one I built for myself almost twenty years ago because I think the more recent one sounded warmer and more balanced. (I'm glad to see my work has improved over time.) As part of the service I played Simple Gifts. I'm glad I can offer music in a time when it's hard to know what will be meaningful to people as they are grieving. I think John would have enjoyed my playing.

Unfortunately my name was listed in the program as Kolby Klein. The minister apologized several times, and I told him I don't know if I have any programs from any funeral I've played with my name spelled correctly, so not to worry about it. Although "Kolby" is new. I've never met a Kolby, so that seems like an odd name to throw out there. On the plus side, I think he was so embarrassed that he did not do more than cast a sidelong glance at Domino sitting in the front pew. She was much appreciated emotional support for me, nestled by my side when I was seated, and contentedly watching me play when I was working.

The burial this morning was just family. There were military honors. Included in the casket were the ashes of both John's beloved cat Norman, and little dog Smokey Joe.

A representative (and family friend) from the funeral home that ran everything with such care this week read this poem, which I thought was lovely.

...Death is nothing at all. It does not count. I have only slipped away into the next room. Nothing has happened. Everything remains exactly as it was. I am I, and you are you, and the old life that we lived so fondly together is untouched, unchanged. Whatever we were to each other, that we are still. Call me by the old familiar name. Speak of me in the easy way which you always used. Put no difference in your tone. Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow. Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes that we enjoyed together. Play, smile, think of me, pray for me. Let my name be ever the household word it always was. Let it be spoken without effort, without the ghost of a shadow upon it. Life means all that it ever meant. It is the same as it ever was. There is absolute and unbroken continuity. What is this death but a negligible accident? Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight? I am but waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near, just around the corner. All is well.

— Rosamunde Pilcher, September

There were hugs. There was crying. We took turns laying hands on the casket. (I let Domino rest one of her paws on it because I know that would have made John smile.)

We went back to the house for food and a little more time together before we started the long drive home.

I think the image that will stay with me most from the funeral was looking up at one point and seeing all three of my kids comforting each other by the casket. It was just the three of them under the tent, arms around each other, heads bent. I cannot express how much it means to me that my children love each other, and find support in each other in hard times. That is what family should be. That is the thing I love most in this world. 

 

 

Being There

I got the news that my Uncle John died very early in the morning of March 27th. 

That date is my dad's birthday, so I was already expecting to be sad that day. We found out around the time we were preparing to take Domino to doggie daycare before work. My cousin Mary told me her dad had passed away in the night. She was understandably a wreck. It was unexpected. It was unfair.

My first thought was to get to my mom. I've done that emergency drive to Detroit many times. Her other brother, Joe, died late last year. That's been really hard. No one was prepared for John to leave us this soon too. I didn't want my mom to be alone, so I started throwing things in a bag.

One of the things I find annoying about this phase of life as an older person is that I can't pack light. When my dad was dying in 2015, I literally threw a few pieces of clothing that were lying around my room into a backpack, and drove. Now there is the CPAP machine to dismantle and organize in its case or sleep will be impossible. There are blood pressure pills that I need to remember. There is my retainer (because I am apparently 15 again in some ways, but unfortunately none of those ways are my knees). There is lotion for my eyelids because out of nowhere last year that's where I developed eczema. There is my phone and its charging cord. There is my laptop and its cord. Those are now the essentials (assuming I'm wearing a good enough bra).

And if I have the time and the room after packing basic clothes, I need my gym bag which has everything in it from a toothbrush to deodorant to the shampoo and face-wash I like, a blanket that's somewhere between warm and cool (because I no longer operate at a comfortable consistent temperature), my buckwheat husk pillow, an instrument and whatever music I'm supposed to be practicing, a book to read, a book to edit, and if I'm super lucky I try to bring something like a scroll to carve.

I regretted not bringing my viola with me when my dad died. For this trip, in addition to my essentials, I made a point of grabbing my viola and a folder of music. I grabbed performance/funeral clothes, including the right shoes. I did bring my gym bag because it happened to be by the door. I made poor selections when shoving general clothes in a bag and have already had to pick up underwear from CVS since arriving in Michigan. I forgot pajamas. I decided to live on the wild side and not take my blanket and pillow. After a really bad night of sleep, I ordered a new pillow. (It's a weird crunchy thing I decided to try several years ago and now can't live without, and my kids are also addicted to the same type of pillow and bring it when they travel as well.) It arrived promptly and I slept much better last night.

The last thing I had to make a decision about before leaving Milwaukee on short notice, was the dog. The sensible choice would be to leave the dog. I had no idea how long I'd be gone or how inconvenient she would make things. But she looked at me and I looked at her, and I decided to bring her for purely selfish reasons. I was sad. Domino makes me happy. I scooped up the dog. (Which meant also throwing together a bag with food, dishes, toys, treats...)

There was a phone discussion with my brothers about who should tell Mom her brother had died, when to let her know I was on the way, etc. 

The greatest gift to me on this dark day of haphazard planning was that my daughter, Mona, offered to come along. Aden and Quinn are at their respective colleges, and we have a plan to collect them and bring them to Ohio for the upcoming funeral, but Mona lives above the violin store. We stopped there for me to give Ian instructions on the day's appointments, and she came down with a bag packed and ready to go. (She packs light, but she still brought her pillow.)

Mona and I hit the road. The dog curled up in the backseat on her bed. Somehow Domino always knows when it's a short trip or a long haul.

Perfect weather, but there was an inexplicable number of vehicles having problems on the side of the highway. We talked. We answered texts and calls. We listened to music on whatever CDs were in the car. We stopped to empty the dog and fill the tank. I bought gloves at the Indiana Visitor Center because they were only $4 and why not. We arrived by early afternoon and took turns hugging my mom.

In some situations there is not much you can do beyond being there. But being there is important.

I had a discussion about this with my kids not long ago.

We went to my mom's for Christmas, and I said we should also go down to Ohio for New Year's to see our relatives there if John and Charlotte would have us. John and Charlotte always have us. Turns out they were also hosting a giant (20 people?) football watching party with a sit down steak dinner on New Year's Eve that they failed to mention, but they didn't hesitate to fold us into all of that. We had a wonderful visit, and when we left John looked so sad. He thought we would be there an extra full day, but we needed to drive my mom back to Michigan before we could return to Milwaukee. 

Life is busy, travel is long, John understood. But he genuinely wanted all of us to stay longer. I told him we were overdue to spend real time in Ohio and would plan a trip for this summer. We tend to visit Ohio on the way to and from places like New York, but we wanted a dedicated Ohio trip to meet up with old friends and spend unhurried days in Marysville. John loved the idea. I'm glad I got to tell him I loved him and to hug him goodbye. You never know when the last time you'll see someone might be.

In January, my brother Barrett had a trip to Detroit planned with his son. My brother Arno decided to overlap with that visit and bring his daughter. I heard this and realized all five cousins had not been in one place since 2015 when Barrett's son was four months old and we were gathered for the death of my dad. 

We'd just done that whole trip for Christmas, but I told my kids we should go back out to Detroit for a day. I didn't want to impose all of us on their plans, but we had a place to stay downtown through a friend so we'd be out of the way, and we could gather the kids all together with their grandmother for an afternoon and maybe dinner. It was a lot, but it was more than worth it. Mona doesn't like to take time away from her work, so I knew she'd be a hard sell on another trip so soon, but I told her it mattered. I don't ask much, so I was asking this. She didn't argue.

Because it can't be the case that we only see each other at funerals (and possibly weddings). There has to be time to be together that is normal. There has to be space to build connections and get to know each other and have fun in an environment that doesn't require special clothes.

I used to take my kids out to New York for Easters with their cousin, and she would come out to our cottage in the summer. Things changed with the pandemic and as everyone got older, and staying in touch has gotten harder. Getting people together takes work.

A lot of that work used to be carried by my grandmother. She was a center of family activity. We all met in her home and ate at her table. My childhood memories are filled with visits to her house where we saw our aunts and uncles and cousins. That's been more difficult to arrange with her gone. John's house was the closest to that in terms of being a crossroads for lots of family.

I've tried very hard to make visits happen. It doesn't always work. But I want for my kids to have those family connections. I want them to know their relatives, not just hear stories about them, or be saddled with a vague sense of obligation based on family ties instead of love. It's a lot of work, a lot of driving, and a lot of scheduling, but being there makes a difference.

On the drive to my mom's, I was telling random stories about all kinds of people in my life and where I grew up. I needed to talk to keep myself from crying. We talked about what we loved about John.

And then Mona thanked me. She told me she appreciates my making family visits happen. She's grateful we got to see Uncle John one last time at New Year's. She's glad she got to spend time with all her cousins together in Detroit.

She knows it's important to be with one another other than at funerals. It's a rare moment to feel both appreciated as a mom, and also that I did good job being one.

Mona drove herself back to Milwaukee the next day. She had an appointment to make and it helps Ian to have the car available to get him and the kids to Ohio. Mona was here for the parts where she was most needed, and she will be back. She knows the value of being there for those she loves. That makes me proud. 

Going Places

How amazing to travel again!

It's such a relief to have my whole family be vaccinated, and to be able visit with relatives who are also vaccinated, and to share meals and talk without masks, and to see new places. After a year where the only trips we took were to our cottage in Michigan (simply to experience isolation somewhere else), we were finally able to enjoy road trips again. And visitors! That we could hug! It's been really fun, but I will also forget most of it if I don't jot it down, so here goes. (And this is a huge post with a ton of photos, so make sure you're settled in if you want to continue.)

Sunset at Humboldt Park

It's kind of amazing to realize how much has changed in the matter of a few months. Back in April we were still in unvaccinated lock down mode. We had our second Easter in a row where we limited our egg hunt to just us, and just at home. This time the weather was beautiful and we did the hunt outside. We got take-out from Damascus Gate (which was delicious, and they have been really conscientious about Covid protocols), and enjoyed a lovely walk in our neighborhood park where we all still wore masks when anyone came near.

 

But by the end of April, most of us were vaccinated. Ian and Aden and I got Moderna shots, and we had to look around for a place for Mona to get a Pfizer one. The day the Pfizer shot was approved for kids Quinn's age, he was happy to get it. We were still cautious, still not ready to abandon masks in public, but we were all feeling relieved, and ready to venture into the world again.

 

The first little trip was Aden getting to take a friend with her to the cottage in Michigan. I drove them out there, left them the car, and my mom picked me up so I could spend a few days in Detroit.

I love that Aden got to try her hand at being responsible for the cottage and to spend real time with someone not from inside our house for a change. She needed that. The cottage is a good, cozy place to be.

 

 

In the meantime, I got to hang out in Detroit with my mom, eat dinner with my friends, and just enjoy time with people I care about like life was normal. I was surprised at how fast and easy that was to revert to. There were stretches where the pandemic was forgotten, and I loved it.

And it was spring. Everything that could bloom was blooming. Belle Isle was beautiful, my mom's garden was beautiful...

On the western side of the state and just a bit further north, things were only starting to bud. But that's pretty, too. It was nice to get time at the cottage at each end of Aden's time there with her friend.

Then at the end of May, I got to drive both Aden and Mona out to New York City. Mona was still technically in school, but there's the silver lining of virtual learning! Didn't matter to anyone that she did her finals from Manhattan Island.

But before we got that far, we did a stopover in Ohio, where we got to spend time with my cousin and his family (and their dogs--we've missed having a dog around), and stay in my aunt and uncle's beautiful new home.

We got to be their first official overnight guests! And we got to admire some lovely art on their walls, much of it done by people we love. (I think this owl drawing of my mom's is spectacular in their new library.)

While in Ohio, we shared some wonderful food, visited the farmers market, and went out for ice cream. I even got a little time to carve.

Covid still kind of interfered with a complete sense of what was normal, because one of my cousins is under 12 and had to mask when indoors with the rest of us.

 

We also couldn't do certain activities like go horseback riding or visit the zoo or museum because in pandemic times you need reservations for such things. We did venture out to an estate sale, which was interesting, and my kids came away with a free set of tiny souvenir swords from Toledo, Spain. (We're assuming Spain, but in Ohio, who knows?)

Then we moved on to New York. Mona actually did a good stretch of the driving across Indiana, and again on this leg of the trip across much of Pennsylvania. (If you'd asked me when I was a teenager if I would be nervous with one of my own kids behind the wheel one day, I would have said that was silly. I resented people being nervous riding along with me when I was learning to drive. I would be a much more reasonable mom. Ha! It is very hard to keep my anxiety in check with one of my kids in the driver's seat, but Mona did fine. She even kept her head during a scary moment on a mountain road where all the trucks around us were acting insane.)

 

We arrived at my brother's home in Washington Heights well before dark, and even got to leave our car in "the lane" of the Hudson View Garden complex, which was a special treat that I really appreciated. (Because the other option is to keep moving your car based on all the different parking regulations on the streets.)

(Wall on the right will open up)

 

 

 

 

Their ground floor apartment is gorgeous, and they will be expanding into the apartment next door. The wall between the two spaces hadn't come down yet, so we got to have our own private little home in NYC right next to them! But hanging out in their space was much more pleasant, both for the ambiance and the company. (Including the much beloved Pepper the terrier.)

I got to stay for a few days to help my kids acclimate. Their aunt and uncle gave them good instructions about navigating the public transit. It's interesting how much has changed since I was a kid, because now everyone uses their phones to get around and check on trains, etc. But it's still good to orient yourself with a real map before venturing out. It's amazing how fast the A Train becomes part of your daily life if you live up in Washington Heights.

 

 

My brother and his family weren't available to venture out with us when I was there, but that worked out fine. My sister in law had gotten us timed tickets to all manner of wonderful museums, so we were set for things to do. And Aden and Mona got to see that navigating the city wasn't some magic grown-ups have. We're used to relying on Ian to get us places because he loves geography and transit. With just me? Well, we had to work together, and overcome mistakes and problems. And we did fine. (Eventually.)

We spent the first full day exploring the Union Square area. We located an art school Mona might be interested in, and I managed to lose my kids when they went to a comics-theme shop while I wandered around the Strand bookstore. There were a lot of ups and downs that day. We were tired, nerves were wearing thin, and we each had different ideas and approaches for being in the city, so there were tears. But we found great food, and enjoyed our first indoor dining experience in I have no idea how long. Restaurants were just opening up again in NYC, and the place had dividers, good distancing, employees in masks, etc. It helped make everything better. We went home to nice time with family, including a game of Code Names which we really like. (For those of you familiar with the game, you will appreciate that the most flummoxing clue was my brother telling me, "Soup. None.")

The next day was better. We got ourselves with no trouble to the MoMA. We saw a great Calder show. We saw a fascinating exhibit about rethinking the spaces people of color occupy, that spanned from futuristic concepts, to confronting the historical tragedies of whole Black towns being wiped from the map in America.

There were the famous pieces that are a treat to see by Picasso and Dali (I'm always shocked how tiny Persistence of Memory actually is in real life) and Van Gogh and Pollack and Matisse and Delaunay, etc. etc. etc.

Detail I never noticed was an archer on horseback!

My new favorite Dine--makes me want to paint my tools!

There's always so much to see, and we were able to split up and do things at our own pace, and meet up later.

The next important stop was the Nintendo store, but I wish they still had the original Pikachu on display for me to photograph my kids next to. I have so many pictures of them in that store when they were smaller! It was an annual pilgrimage for a while. I got bored with everything Nintendo pretty fast, and waited instead outside.

There was seating out there, and several food stands which we eventually decided to sample from. We shared a small lobster roll, bubble tea, food from Afghanistan, arancini from the Italian booth.... All good stuff.

We made our way back to the apartment in time to have dinner with some talented musician friends my sister in law thought I'd like to meet. We had such a great time! I even had the pleasure of finding out one of them had read my violin diagnostics guide and liked it, and he didn't know the chain of connections that had led him to it. So that made my night!

 

 

I got in a little time to carve before the guests arrived, which was so pleasant out in the garden space outside my door!

 

And one of the guests had a stunning old Cremonese violin that he was kind enough to let me hold and take pictures of. This was one of the few trips where I didn't bring an instrument to play, and definitely the time I most regretted it. Next time I go back I need to bring a viola so we can do some duets.

I don't remember how long it had been since I was able to socialize with new people at any length like that. I think of myself as rather shy, so I'm surprised how much I missed that. It was a great night.

More time with a dog again was good. Pepper is afraid of flies, but impossibly cute.

My third full day in New York, we headed out to Brooklyn where we had tickets to the KAWS show. It was good (and included an interactive scavenger hunt you could do with your phone, so that was new to me), but the museum in general was better. My kids liked it more than the MoMA. There was an ingenious "behind the scenes storage" display, and a lot of really welcome feminist representation--including a table of place settings by female artists symbolizing important historical figures in women's history.

 

There were many beautiful things I'd never seen before, including the above painting entitled "Heat," which made me laugh because the day we spent in Brooklyn was unbearably hot, so I could relate. And the detail from this painting below just blew me away.

After the Brooklyn Museum, we wandered over to Park Slope and visited a luthier's shop. The funniest moment of that stop to me was when we were waiting outside the building, and I was concerned for Aden's feet since they were starting to blister from all the walking. She said, "It's okay. We're visiting a luthier, and luthiers have good band aids." And they did! Because of course they did. Luthiers are kind of band aid connoisseurs. So my daughter has learned that much from watching me work. Band aids aside, they had a wonderful view of Manhattan from the roof.

We had a nice meal in Park Slope. (Which was funny, because it took us a while to settle on a restaurant, and Aden's only qualifier was "No soup," since it was so horribly hot. But then we found a sushi place, and her meal came with soup. So, soup.) And then a pretty walk back to the subway through Prospect Park, which is beautiful. And another confusing ride on the B Train, which apparently we are not good at. (But we still found our way home, so no harm done.)

Covid reminders on the subway

My last full day in New York, I treated my daughters to a mani-pedi experience (Mona went for a facial instead) at a nearby shop in the morning. It was new for them, and interesting for observing life in that neighborhood.

Then we went on separate adventures. The kids took themselves to the Morgan library, and I met up with an incredibly charming woman who does violin restoration work. She brought me tea and a box lunch to Central Park where the hours flew by as we talked about this, that, and everything. It was a real highlight of my trip.

 

 

 

 

 

We sat by the Conservatory pond, which became the meeting place once I stumbled upon a talented violinist playing there.

It felt good to have a day of my own, and to know my kids were feeling confident enough to not need me. (But I was still somewhere not far.) I think as a transition the whole thing worked out well, because dropping them there and leaving right away would have been a bit hard. But this way I got to do some wonderful things, and they got to adjust, and by the time I left we all knew they'd be fine. They got a total of about two and a half weeks in New York. They came home separately because they wanted different experiences traveling back. Mona flew to Chicago then took a bus up to Milwaukee, and Aden took the train all the way back.

So that was a memorable adventure that made up for a lot of missed experiences in 2020.

Mom's house!

On my way back, I got to stop in Detroit again. (The drive from New York to Detroit is LONG. I do not recommend anyone do it alone, unless you have some really good podcasts to listen to, and a playlist made by Aden when you need music.) I got to enjoy another dinner out with my friends, and I caught my mom up on things through our Disney + account, like Hamilton, WandaVision, and Falcon and Winter Soldier. (Although I think some of that we watched on my previous visit? I forget already. We watched too much stuff and it was fun.)

So, part of the excitement of going places applies to home, too. Everything has been closed or limited for so long, we are rediscovering things near us that we haven't seen in forever. While Aden and Mona were out of town, I took a few hours off of work to go with Quinn to the zoo. We haven't been in a very long time, and a bunch of it has changed, and the Mold-A-Rama machines were in new places. We picked up a few molds that we hadn't seen there before. Because of the pandemic, the hours are shorter, and a lot of the indoor spaces are off limits. But there is a beautiful new enclosure for the elephants, and you can still get ice cream, just from a window rather than inside.

Speaking of ice cream, its superior local variation "frozen custard" can still be found despite Covid. The lines at Leon's when I took Quinn were insane, though. They actually had security on hand to help direct people where to stand and park. I'm glad our custard stand seems to have successfully survived these odd times.

Another place we can go is the Bay View farmers market. It was open last summer, too, but they banned dogs (since dogs inspire people to congregate too close together), spread out the tents, and imposed a clockwise direction to the whole thing. Turns out people liked the new more spacious layout, so they kept that, but they brought back dogs, and you can now walk whatever way you like. I really like our farmers market in the park by the lake.

Another bit of short distance travel? Because anywhere outside of the house now feels like travel? The movies! We went to our first movie in I'm not sure how long. Appropriately it was "In the Heights." We walked over to the Avalon to see it, which is our local theater with stars on the ceiling. (There are shooting stars, too! If a movie gets boring, you can always look up and watch for those instead.)

Travel also now means people can come to us! The uncle and aunt we got to stay with on our way to New York, came to stay at our house for a night. It gave us an excuse to dig out from our pandemic mess.

Uncle John with the adorable Keiko bird!

Then just recently, we got to finally do a full family road trip again. It was a version of what we were hoping to do last summer before everything shut down.

We explored all our options, determined driving was cheaper than flying, and we rented a minivan to save ours the wear and tear (since the thing is older than Quinn and we need it to last another few years). First stop? Niagara Falls! I hadn't been there since I was a kid. The rest of the family had never been. I was sad not to be able to show it to them from the Canadian side (which I believe also has fewer wax museums), since the border is still closed, and we don't have passports for the kids yet anyway.

We checked into our Airbnb, then drove out to the falls at dusk. Lots of people there, and there were weird lights on the water, but it's all still pretty amazing. I like that you can walk to a railing right next to the water and watch it rushing right over the edge at your feet.

We went back the next morning, and the whole place was practically deserted. There was an occasional person, but for the most part we had the place to ourselves, which I think is really odd.

 

 

 

The other odd discovery as we were leaving Niagara Falls? "Fiddler Roofing" with its fiddle on the roof.

Niagara Falls is weird. The natural wonder of it is not diminished, but the surroundings are just wrong. My kids were surprised it wasn't a national park, which would likely have created something more dignified with the area. But it's an old state park, and it is what it is. I'm still glad we went.

On the drive toward Maine we made a stop at an old section of the Erie Canal. (I could not remember the whole song, but my kids did not seem impressed anyway. They are mystified by most of the songs I was taught in school. I don't blame them.)

Sal?

 

We passed from New York into Vermont....

And eventually into New Hampshire, where we stopped for dinner at a nice restaurant, and a visit to a cute candy store that sold everything by the pound.

And then late into the evening we finally arrived in Biddeford, Maine, where Ian's (half)sister and her husband live. They have a huge house where the kids got their own rooms (so a step up from home where the girls have to share), and Ian and I were very comfortable upstairs and slept well.

Maine is beautiful. Everyone knows that, but still. I can't believe how lucky we are to know people there willing to put us all up. We kept our goals modest in Maine, mostly to enjoy the chance to relax. I got to read! I never get to read. (The two books I finished on this trip were Klara and the Sun, and Kindred. Both excellent.) Mona got to draw. Aden got to play with more dogs (Iggy and Mo, who loved the attention), Quinn got to disappear in his room like he was home... 

Our first morning there we visited the ocean and looked for tide pools.

We hung out on the back porch and admired all the hard work that had been done to tame the yard. We watched the dogs being dogs and were happy.

We went out for the obligatory lobster dinner, which did not disappoint. Aden and Mona actually tried lobster tails for the first time on our earlier trip to Ohio! They were ready for the whole thing. (Apparently the place we were eating used to cater to the Bushes, and our hosts described how when they would eat in the area where we were, there was a curtain that was pulled to separate them and their secret service from the rest of the place.)

And we never get tired of the ocean. I know we have Lake Michigan at home (I never get tired of that, either), but it's so different to have tides and saltwater creatures. Every time we went it was different. The first time was glorious and sunny and rocky. The next time we were on a misty beach where everything felt mysterious and we found a million hermit crabs! (I asked Aden how she kept spotting so many, and she said, "You look for a shell that starts crawling away.")

Hermit crabs!

Distant Mona in the Mist

We also got to wind down that evening by watching the final episode of Loki on a big screen, which had inconveniently come out while we were on the road. (Great show, glad there will be a second season, frustrated that will be so far in the future.)

Our second day in Maine, I went to visit a luthier friend. A talented builder I know from my varnish workshops, he said I was only the second builder to visit his remote shop. It's in a beautiful area near a man-made lake. His home was on one side of the road, and his shop in a separate building on the other. I love seeing where people work, and his space was so peaceful and practical. He even showed me a postcard of their home from way back in time. (The house looks a bit different now with changes to the roof and the addition of a second floor bedroom, but how cool is that to live in a postcard worthy home from yesteryear?)

After my little excursion, the five of us headed up to Portland. (The "other" Portland for us.) All driving in Maine is a bit winding and confusing, but we got used to not traveling very fast there. My kids were sort of perplexed by Portland, until Ian and I pointed out that people in New York and Boston use Maine the way people in Chicago and Milwaukee use Door County. It's a pretty tourist vacation space on the water that seems quaint and has treats and that people avoid in the off season. We found a really nice comic and game store, and picked up a new game called Just One, which was really fun to play with a big group when we got back to the house.

We went out for lobster rolls at a place on the docks called Luke's. From the windows we could see a lighthouse that we decided to track down. It turned out to be a charming little structure called "Bug Light" and the park it was in turned out to be a place the locals go. I love when we have a plan when we travel, but I also love exploring random things. Those things are often the most memorable.

When we returned to Biddeford, we took another walk out on the beach, where this time there were no hermit crabs and less mist.

 

The next morning I read on the back porch (with it's pretty view of a creek running through the yard), and eventually did a drive up to another lake (with two of the kids in tow) where I met with another luthier. 

He was one who had offered to send me an odd aluminum bow tip, but when I found out he was in Maine, I told him I could probably come pick it up in person since I was headed that way this summer. Turned out he also cuts tone wood, and I was able to pick up some beautiful maple. (Um, not all of this maple. I got a great one piece back, and a couple of quarter sawn wedges. But cool pile, right?)

Our final morning in Maine, Aden and Quinn got to get up early with our hosts and watch the dogs romp on the beach, and then we packed up and started a leisurely trip south through Massachusetts. We did a stop for mini-golf and ice cream because I am a sucker for putt-putt, especially the type with the simple greens and a water feature. This was one of those moments, though, where a nice idea doesn't go the way you think it should when you have three teens on different wavelengths with different expectations. Only my husband was cheerful about it. I at least got a glimpse of how empty nest stuff won't be what I feared it might. It's been a long time since I got to travel with just Ian, and that will be fun again someday in the not-too-distant future. He's always up for mini-golf, and I love him.

None of my kids had ever been to Boston. It would have been nice to stay longer and really explore it, but for now I just wanted them to see it for themselves and get a sense of what it has to offer, since it has a different feel from other cities they know. I have cousins (on my dad's side) in the area, and even though I don't get to see them often enough, they are always incredibly generous and kind when we do. They hosted a lovely dinner for our arrival, and put us up in their son's condo for the night since he was out of town and there was a lot of room there. It was really nice to have a space like that to ourselves to unwind and spread out.

The next morning we hit the Freedom Trail. I'd walked it as a kid. Ian never had, but knew a lot of history he was able to share. There is much to be gleaned from the Freedom Trail. I seem to remember back in the days of the bicentennial that it was a red-white-and-blue painted line that my dad led us along as we trekked about Boston. Maybe it's changed, maybe I'm remembering it wrong, maybe we were following the wrong trail altogether back then. The trail we followed on this trip was mostly bricks. By Boston Common they were orderly and clear.

By landmarks like notable cemeteries there were medallions added to it.

And then as you continued along, it became fractured, neglected, betraying the realities of city streets and competing needs.

The line in places was solid, in others, broken. You could always find it if you looked, but the Freedom Trail was sometimes hard to recognize depending on what neighborhood you were in.

Quite the metaphor.

My favorite educational stop on the trail was built right into the sidewalk in front of a historic school building. I really liked the actual marbles embedded into the marbles game.

Lots of history that Ian was able to elaborate on as we passed different landmarks, including about the 54th infantry regiment made up of black soldiers, and the Old North Church where the signal was for Paul Revere.

That evening, after our long walk, we went back to my cousin's condo where he had returned home, and he taught my family how to play Wingspan while we ate pizza. (Although I missed the instruction part to observe a service that our hosts were leading at their synagogue. I'll have to let my kids lead me through Wingspan another day.)

After that night, we essentially started the long drive home. But since Quinn collects those state magnets you can buy at some truck stops, we decided to hit as many new states as we could! We had breakfast in Rhode Island, made a pit stop in Connecticut, and ate dinner in Delaware. (We touched 15 states on this trip! Far different from when we drive out West and a single state takes forever.

The restaurant experience in Wilmington was odd. (And for the first time in my life I sent back a meal, because Aden and I ordered crab cakes, and they were full of grit and small hard shell bits, so no thank you. Plus as the most expensive thing on the menu, I wasn't having it. It took some effort to get that taken off our bill, but we made sure to tip very well. Wasn't the waitress's fault.) But the restaurant was right on a really beautiful river walk, so that was pleasant.

 

 

 

Not spooky at all the next day.

We got to our Airbnb in Pennsylvania right when the last of the daylight was gone. There was some strange, spooky driving at dusk through Amish country, and my kids pointed out that it felt like we were in the opening scenes of a horror movie, where the family thinks things are going fine, but stuff starts to look strange. We even took a street called "Street Road" which just seemed weird.

But then we arrived at a strangely upscale feeling mini-neighborhood in the middle of nowhere, and spent a night in a lovely house with the world's friendliest cat.

Our old second floor apartment!

 

In the morning we drove through Carlisle, which is where Ian and I lived for a couple of years out of college. We wanted the kids to see it, but I'm sure it wasn't interesting to them. It was mostly nostalgia for me and Ian. I was fascinated by how much it had changed. It's gotten far more upscale, and had lots of interesting restaurants that certainly didn't exist in the mid-90s.

But PA definitely has it's own look and quirks, and that was something the kids picked up on, even if our pointing out the hotel where their dad used to work didn't really register.

From Carlisle we headed to Gettysburg. That's changed a lot since the last time we were there, too. Huge new visitor center (and prices too high for us to see anything in it.)

This is only one small corner.

 

 

After Gettysburg was a stop in Breezewood, which is full of truck stops and where I figured we might find some state magnets. Instead we found this, which has to have more Steelers stuff than anyplace in the world. (My kids were hearing it as "Stealers" and wondered why anyone would name a team after cheating.)

 

 

The plan was to then drive straight to Ohio, where we were going to spend the night with my aunt and uncle again so we wouldn't end up driving so far without a break. But then we unexpectedly came across the Flight 93 Memorial in Shanksville. We decided to stop, and I'm glad we did. I'd never seen anything about the 9-11 memorial there, and it was moving.

It's spread out over a large swath of land. There is a striking (and sizable) visitor center that we didn't go to, because it's one of three areas you can visit that are a great distance apart, and we didn't feel we had the time to do all of them. We did do the walk along the debris field, where the impact site is marked with a boulder.
 

This picture on the left is from about halfway down the walkway to the memorial site, looking back toward the information area.

Toward the front of the park is the Tower of Voices. It's a tall structure with 40 wind chimes inside--one for each of the passengers and crew that died that day. The space is peaceful. The surrounding land is beautiful.

So memorials were in my head all day, and on top of all of that, while I was driving I was listening to a podcast that included how much thought went into the details of the 9-11 memorial in NYC. (Including artificial dirt for the trees that is a third of the weight of normal dirt since it's all above a transit area, and temperature controlled name plaques so the metal doesn't get too hot or too cold to touch.)

Comparing Gettysburg to the Flight 93 memorial was fascinating. Gettysburg is overwhelming in a lot of ways. There are stones and statues everywhere to mark certain groups from various states. The only individuals whose names you see are all famous officers. Ian tried to describe how certain areas we were walking through were then filled with thousands of soldiers marching shoulder to shoulder as far as you could see. It's hard to fathom, and it's distant. Flight 93 has pictures and names of all the people who died. It's almost too easy to grasp, and it hits hard. Both spaces are vast and somber while also embracing natural beauty. The Tower of Voices is ethereal in a way that would seem out of place at a site like Gettysburg. But between Gettysburg the battlefield and Gettysburg the still-operating town catering to tourists, it's a strange amalgamation of things stately and sacred, and a roadside attraction. There is death at the center of both places, with terror replaced by peace. It's a lot to take in.

 

Our stop in Ohio was brief, but a welcome respite. I was glad Ian and Quinn got to see their new house since they weren't with us on the earlier trip. It was good to spend a night someplace that also feels like home. And in that home are three cats, two of which spent a lot of time hanging out on chairs under the dining table, which was really sweet and funny. (Becuase they were up! But under! In the action! But hidden from it! Silly cats.)

It's good to be home.

The next trip I get to take is with Aden to her college orientation. It will be the first time we actually get to step foot on the campus! Last year all the college tours were shut down due to Covid, so we're just assuming her new school is as nice as everyone says it is. That will be a good mini trip.

Our big project this weekend is to finally fill out passport applications. We've missed travel and want to do more, and passports will open the door to more possibilities. It's fun to think about!

If you stuck this post out until the end, you are amazing. (Or you're my mom. Hi Mom!) Thanks! And happy travels to you, wherever you go.