My Ice Capades

 Snowy sunshine this morning as I rearranged my bookshelves. A little treasure Jim gave me one Christmas fell out from amongst the big books...Twelve Kinds of Ice by Ellen Bryan Obed. I sat on the floor reading it and recalling all my years of ice skating...just as this author so beautifully writes of her childhood. The first kind, as winter settles in, is that thin layer that breaks easily as soon as you poke it. The second kind is a bit thicker, but a hard kick can break it. As the temps drop and ice thickens, the fields and streams are soon skate-worthy. But the best kind of ice is the perfect ice created by snow and smoothing and a garden hose, which is what my dad did every winter in our backyard. I’m about ten in this photo. It’s where I learned to skate. Where I practiced being Barbara Ann Scott and dreaming of the Ice Capades my grandparents took me to each year.  Instead, my escapades moved on to the Rouge Park rink in northwest Detroit where my high school pals met for nighttime fun.
Jim and I shoveled a rink every winter on Crooked Lake so the guys could play hockey and our kids could learn to skate. When our cross-country moves began, both kids were playing hockey and their dad was coaching. Lots of indoor rinks during our years in Kentucky and Massachusetts. But there was one year, one once-in-awhile year that the weather and black ice were pure perfect for skating on the Ipswich River, the fish and seaweed visible beneath our gliding feet.  

I skated with Jim at indoor rinks over the years, but no photos were ever taken. It was always fun but not the same without snow or wind in your face or seeing the stars above while you skate...outdoor skating is the best!
We grow along and the years go by and suddenly we have grandchildren...I wanted all five to know how to skate. There’s  a picture of me holding onto the railing at an indoor rink in Georgia where I took my first grandson. Yes, I like a railing for the first couple go-rounds these days, but I can still skate for an hour or so. My granddaughter and I spent a sunny morning on Rockefeller Center ice in New York City in 2014. Tracy and I took her three kiddos to the Avalon Ice Rink in Alpharetta a few years ago and last year I skated Millennium Rink here in Portage with my youngest grandson. No railings here, so I have to start slow and carefully until my legs remember how to slide and balance on the shiny, slippery surface. There’s a group of senior ladies that skate here each week. Think I’ll go and join them next time the ice is smooth and the sun is bright!

Treetop Camping

After spending the night in the charming town of Marion, Illinois, we drove to Harrisburg, an entry point to Shawnee National Forest. We stocked up on food, water and everything needed for s'mores, found Highway 34 and headed into another new experience. 

Timber Ridge Outpost was a welcome sight after miles on narrow, canopied-covered roads. Lacy checked us in with maps and suggestions for area attractions. The four corners on Karber's Ridge Road really is an outpost in the middle of nowhere. Part general store, gift shop and an ice cream parlor, there's also a working phone booth in the parking lot.

Lane watched the mileage counter for exactly 1.5 miles to North Iron Furnace Road, an unpaved lane that got bumpier as we drove deeper into the Shawnee woods. And there it was...a private drive to White Oak Treehouse, our home for the next two days and nights. 

Twenty-four feet up in the branches of a 200 year Oak was magnificent! 
This is what I love about traveling-
The surprise. 
The awe. 
The serendipity of discovering something greater than expected. 

Twenty steps up and down...we took our time unpacking. Lane would carry up groceries, then swing on the round, smiley-faced board attached to a very long rope. He'd haul a few more things up, then go swing again. I took the duffel bags and totes to the first landing and had a sit-down. Just gazing at the treetops that went on forever, amazed to be a small speck in a 280,000 acre forest, excited that we were really doing this!
We finished emptying the car. Why do road trips require so much stuff? We'd have been fine with backpacks...the duffel bags held sweats, boots and rain gear for cold nights and wilderness trails. Never used any of it. Groceries filled up the third row of the Armada. Luckily, there was no hurry. Swing and explore, sit and relax. We had all day.

There's a full size refrigerator and bathroom and lots of space to spread out on the first floor of White Oak. The loft holds two queen beds tucked beneath the side is tall enough for an adult to stand, smaller folks have to bend and crawl into bed. Outside we found a wood-stacked fire pit, a picnic table and several folding chairs.

The camping resort has a smaller treehouse in the woods and several log cabins clustered in an open area. A covered pavilion provides picnic tables, swings, corn hole, tether ball and horseshoes for guests. It's quite isolated, but I was reassured knowing the owner lives just across the fishing pond.

After dinner, we wandered the campsite collecting kindling and watching little flashing lights everywhere....fireflies!  Flitting about just like the bugs, Lane shouted for me to get a jar and plastic as he captured several in his hands. Up the steps I ran, finding a juice glass and a baggie full of sugar packets. No jars with lids, no rubber bands, no plastic wrap, but we made do. It made my heart happy watching him 
chase lightening bugs like he did when he was five.

Now he was mature enough to light the fire and took charge of roasting the marshmallows. Another thing not to be found, skewers. The woods offered us crooked but pointed sticks...good enough. I had the graham crackers and chocolate squares ready as he pushed the gooey delight in between. We had more dessert than dinner that night! 

I was concerned about using the loft ladder during the night since the bathroom was downstairs. "Guess I'll have to pee in a pot," I told my grandson. He couldn't believe it. "What about your dignity?" he exclaimed. Giggling, I answered, "there's no dignity in camping, you'll be asleep." But Mother Nature intervened in another way. Thunder and lightening woke us and we hurried down the ladder to the sofa. It's a pull-out bed, but we tossed our pillows at each end and slept head to toe...with the bathroom just steps away! 

Morning brought chirping and sunlight streaming through the branches. It was humid as I drank coffee on the deck watching Lane swing below me. He'd get a running start and soar higher and higher into the varied shades of leafy greenness, still damp from the early dew. It was going to be a long, hot day but we looked forward to kayaking, fishing and maybe some archery practice. 
Whoops, those plans didn't work out. Those activities require guides and rentals and I'd neglected to book in advance. I tend to plan loose...get from point A to B, have a place to sleep and the let the rest fall into place. So we enjoyed the morning hiking camp trails and playing games at the pavilion. We decided to explore Garden of the Gods and other nearby attractions after lunch. 

Suddenly, there was knocking on the cabin door. "Didn't you hear my truck? Hear me coming up the steps? asked Marty, the Timber Ridge Resort owner.
We'd been reading and chillin' thanks to the industrial-size air conditioner so no, we didn't hear a thing. He'd come to warn us heavy rain, hail and strong winds were approaching and offered to take us to a "safe house" on the ground. I grabbed our phones and car keys and followed him to a solidly built, unfurnished log cabin in the clearing. The high winds blew the rain sideways and the hail looked like ice cubes tossed everywhere. Watching from the covered porch, the wind and wetness felt refreshing after the morning heat. As quickly as it had arrived, the pop-up sputtered out. Serendipity made our day!  We headed to the Outpost for some ice cream and locally-made souvenirs.   

The logs were too soaked for a fire, but the sky was clear and we finally got to see the stars. What better place to look up than a dark night in the woods. Hundreds of twinkling constellations held our attention until...
Noises from the surrounding trees and bushes.
Noises too close for comfort.
Noises that spooked us!
We hustled up the steps guided by motion lights, scared, but laughing all the way. With more storms predicted, we slept on the first floor sofa again. 

After breakfast and packing up, it was time to head for home. We could stay on the forest roads to the free ferryboat that crosses the Ohio River. It sounded pretty adventurous, but further inquiry revealed it takes an hour, keeps passengers in their cars and drops off in rural Murphy, Kentucky. With a homesick boy and a long road trip ahead, staying on land and interstates seemed a better choice. I went back to Harrisburg, found I-24 and headed southeast to Atlanta. We had fun savoring treetop life, the scary woods, Marty to the rescue. By the time we arrived home, the stories were even better! 

Riding the Rails let us embrace new places and encounter friendly strangers. Camping in a treehouse gave us a different perspective of nature...sleeping in  birds' habitat, entertained by bugs, outrunning a storm. Travel is both invigorating and soothing. No matter what our age, travel grows us, sparks our curiosity and courage, enriches our brains and activates our WOW mode. 

Trains and Treetops...A Midwest Adventure

Have you ever slept on a train or in a tree house? Traveling should ensure a sense of wonder, time to wander and the feeling of accomplishment. My grandson and I nailed all three this summer while speeding across the Midwest and camping deep in the Shawnee National Forest. 
                                                      RIDING THE RAILS

A stopped freight train delayed our 10:20 departure out of Kalamazoo. A first-time experience for us both, I'd chosen this slower mode of travel to see the land at eye level, meet new people and see why railroad trips were becoming popular again. Knowing we'd be sitting most of the day, we walked up and down the platform for awhile, but each new announcement pushed the train's arrival back another half-hour. Eventually we ended up waiting inside with the other passengers,  hoping we'd soon hear "time to board."

Ten-year-old Lane, one minute older than his twin sister, was next in line for his vacation with grandma. Each child gets a say in where we go and what we do. The older girls chose dog sledding in Alaska and sightseeing in New York City. By the time my older grandson was ready, he jumped at the chance to visit a friend's Montana dude ranch. For Lane, a TV reality show about building tree houses sparked the idea.
Treehouse camping sounded fun to me too...something new to try with hiking and fishing to keep me active. After booking two nights in mid-June, I considered what else might appeal to intergenerational travel buddies. "Yes!" he shouted when I called and suggested sleeping overnight on a train. Another thing I'd never done....Amtrak here we come!

On board Michigan's Blue Water, I realized we were riding backward and tried to switch our seats around. The man across the aisle noticed and kindly pointed to the rear of our car where the seats faced forward. Duh...this might have been my grandson's first eye roll. 
We moved our belongings and settled back to watch the countryside roll by. It was a never-ending panorama of crops about to sprout, grazing animals and an occasional quaint village. Two hours off schedule meant we were hungry, so we tapped our peanut butter crackers together and toasted "cheers to lunch!" Fred, a National Parks volunteer on board, entertained us with a verbal tour of Indiana Dunes National Lakeshore as we rounded Lake Michigan's sandy stretch of shoreline.

Chicago's Union Station was crowded, hustle-bustle chaos; quite the opposite of a quiet, one-room waiting area. After emerging from the dark tunnel-like platform, we found our way to the Grand Hall. What a was temporarily blocked off with ropes and the walls draped in heavy plastic. Workers were completing restoration to the 1925 building due to water damage.
 As we waited in area F for the Los Angeles-bound Southwest Chief, I chatted with a group of Amish folks headed to a gathering in central Kansas. Dressed in traditional heavy black clothing, they introduced us to their "important members," the elders who would speak at the event. "Grandma, do you have to talk to everyone?" my grandson whispered, reminding me this trip was for him. I gave the zipped-lips gesture and went back to my book.

With premium fare status, we were called to the front of the boarding line and ushered to the correct track and train car. What a grand welcome! Our conductor greeted us by name and escorted us up a winding staircase to our sleeping compartment. Lane inspected the bunks, bathroom and closet while I kicked off my shoes and put my feet up. The rhythmic motion of the tracks beneath us signaled we were headed west to things unknown...the best kind of adventure!

I was grateful to have this growing-up-too-fast-kid with me as we headed to the observation car to wait for our 5:30 dinner reservation. He likes figuring things out for before I could freak out, he nonchalantly pressed the black button that opened the sliding door connecting the moving cars. "Quick, Grandma....just walk through," he coaxed me as I hesitated too long mid-car. Whoops...the next door closed but he hit it again and I hurried past. Thankful I hadn't been trapped and muttering "be careful" to myself, I followed him through three more cars.

I enjoyed a glass of wine and he a coke as we watched acres of agriculture whiz by through the giant wrap-around windows.
"Do you know how fast the train is going?" asked the young Amish father sitting next to us. Seeing the blank look on my face, he added, "I don't have a cell phone, but you can use WAZE on yours." My brain was still registering they don't use modern conveniences but they know about cell phone apps when my grandson took charge again. He knew about this real-time transportation app, took my phone, asked my password and voila! We all watched the speedometer waver between 80-85 MPH as the train sped through Iowa, crossing the Mississippi River at Fort Madison.
Merrill, the dining room host whose deep soothing voice perfectly set the mood for an evening meal, led us to a white paper-covered table. We were joined by a couple from Pasadena returning from a Memorial Day performance in DC. Lane and I ordered the salmon dinner with mashed potatoes and broccoli. I was glad we'd changed into fresh was a lovely atmosphere with delicious food, attentive service, a window view of Missouri and nice folks to visit with. 
Our beds were ready when we returned to our room and I was delighted to see the top bunk had a harness that held the sleeper in place. The toilet in our compartment had a powerful flush...the loud whoooshing could be heard over the clacking track and engine sounds! We decided tinkling would not warrant a flush, ensuring less of this scary sound. 
Lulled by the rockin' and rollin' of the the wheels along the tracks, we slept through the night, missing a chance to peek at Kansas under the stars. Rising at 6:00 gave us time to dress, eat breakfast and be ready to depart by 8:15 when the train stopped for a crew change in La Junta, Colorado.

This was our first destination, an old western town in the southeastern corner of the state. It was 100 degrees already, luckily we had water bottles compliments of our conductor. We wandered the streets of the still-sleepy town, eventually finding a place that opened early...Daylight Donuts.  What a friendly welcome as we ate donuts and listened to local knowledge from the town's early birds.
Manager Kristen suggested we visit the library, try the historic Copper Kitchen for lunch and ask the Post Office folks to mind our backpacks.
The librarian invited us to cool off and browse the shelves, happy to share Woodruff Library with day trippers. I caught up on past issues of magazines while Lane hung out in the teen area with zentangle design worksheets and comic-con costumes to try on. Postmaster Julie agreed to stash our backpacks behind the counter for a few hours so we could enjoy hot turkey sandwiches at the Kitchen and visit the shops along Colorado Avenue. It was a long day, but time passes quickly when you're in the moment, unanchored and free to be.

That changed when Amtrak's text indicated our eastbound Chief was delayed...waiting time would drag. We grabbed a burger from Jodi's Grill and watched the sun slowly set with other passengers until the train arrived. It was late and we were grateful our roomette was ready. Sorry Kansas, but we slept really well again!

Another morning, Another city! We awoke in time for pancakes and scrambled eggs again, then stepped off into Kansas City, Missouri. It was a follow-the-yellow-brick-road-sense of discovery as we walked through the enclosed, zigzagy skywalk from historic Union Station, over the streets and into the high-rise Westin Hotel in Crown Center.

At 10:00 in the morning, not only was our room ready, but the box I'd shipped ahead was waiting for us. Clean clothes, a change of shoes and no packs on our backs meant a fresh new day to explore. We spent hours at Sea Life Aquarium, an afternoon swimming in the pool, and the rest of the day at Lego Discovery Center. The huge, rambling food and gift mall connected to the Westin offers a variety of places to eat and shop. But after a busy day and another early train to catch, we opted for the hotel restaurant, just a few steps rom the elevator.

Morning brought a fourth day of discovery. We grabbed muffins-to-go and headed back across the skywalk to board the Missouri River Runner to St Louis. Approaching the glass-and-black-bar-covered ticket window with a small opening to speak through, I asked the agent which line to get in. "No worries," he replied, pointing to a small area reserved for seniors and folks with disabilities. "We'll be taking you to your car in just a few minutes." As one of the oldest, I was delighted. As the youngest, Lane was given elevator duty, holding the door as the agent gathered us all on. He took us down to the platform level and onto a golf cart. The ride to our car seemed to take forever...there's literary no end in sight on cross-country trains. 

I purchased business class for the six-hour-ride to St. Louis. It was worth a few more dollars to have leg room, lay-down seats and room for both packs and duffel bags. Half the car held comfortable seats and the other half was a concession area with snacks and soft drinks. Lots of time for reading, relaxing and watching the river run along side us. 
St. Louis's Gateway Transportation Center is easy to negotiate. A covered platform led into the building, and signage guided us out the front door. It was a wet and drizzly afternoon, but our Lyft driver paused long enough for Lane to capture the Arch and Cardinal's Stadium through rain-splattered windows. The keys to my rental car were in the hands of TJ, the Westin bellhop who took time to explain details of the enormous SUV and give me directions to get out of the city and into Illinois. 

A quick left, right, left led to a spaghetti-junction-tangle of highways and across the Missouri River.
 I bought a booster seat for my backseat pilot and the travel gods lightened the rain and thinned the traffic. 
With our snacks and comfy ride, we headed south with renewed excitement. More adventures ahead at the end of this road...
                          click here for Treetop  Camping!     

A Nudge and a Hug Say So Much

From the moment I met her, I knew she'd be my person. That person who gets you, loves you unconditionally and becomes part of your inner self. As my first grandchild was gently placed in my arms at three weeks old, I felt it. A spark, a magical spell, a connection of souls. It was in her eyes and mine, we both just knew.

For almost twenty years we’ve gravitated together every chance we can. She was two months old when my son said to me, “we want you to be part of her life.” They packed up, drove a car and rental truck all day and moved in with us for several months. She’d be there on the floor learning to scootch, crawl and pull herself up when I’d get home from work each day. When they moved to their first home, she sat on her stool in the doorway watching for me to pull up the driveway. She stayed overnight at grandma’s house, but could never manage it with her little friends…calling home at midnight for mom or dad to come get her.

She was my buddy at age three, wanting lots of grandma time when her little sister came along. She rode in the back of my car buckled in her pink car seat, singing me songs and telling stories that made my heart soar. She would repeat movie or cartoon lines and we’d both be in giggles cracking each other up.  

At age six, her family moved cross country again. My devastation was softened by my daughter’s first born…a grandson. I cuddled and babysat as often as I could, but took time during school breaks to visit my girl in California. It was paradise…her home and school were both on the beach. Sand and sea were their new way of life and we made them ours as well.

This bald, inquisitive baby girl who spoke in sentences by age one and continually kept us all on our toes grew into a smart, confidant, beautiful young lady. At age twelve, she wanted to see snow, to learn about husky dogs and dog sledding. Grandpa and I made it happen. Flying across the snow on a magic carpet-like sleigh, my grandgirl and I laughed and squeezed hands knowing this was one of those memory-making moments in time. In Alaska. In deep snow and freezing temps. Dog mushing.

Retirement meant grandpa and I could head west and spend months in our own little beach house to be near the kids. Sunshine girl was my playmate. We rode bikes, learned to paddleboard and built sand castles together. She’d come over after school, do homework, watch movies, sometimes spend the night. For ten years we did this, sharing birthdays, school events, graduations and winter holidays with our first grandchild. 

Summers brought both girls back east to spend vacation time with Gramcracker and Gramps. Swimming in our pool, playing with the cousins, horseback riding, tea parties with blue Kool Aid were top-of-the-list things to do. They loved grandpa’s kitty-shaped pancakes, sprinkler fun, the secret pathway through our yard, chasing fireflies at night and two bedtime stories. One from a book and one about their daddy’s childhood.

As they grew older, the girls took turns coming alone for a week. She came one summer with her driving permit. Oh how grandpa loved riding along as she learned to drive. She was now in high school, but spending time with us was still a priority.

And then suddenly…she was there when I needed her the most. A month after grandpa died, she spent her fall break with me. She sat on my bed and listened. She asked how he and I had met. She held my hand and hugged me. She knew what to say and when to stay quiet. The best kind of person does that. She was there the following year when I decided to sell the house. The ‘Grandma and Grandpa House’ that also embraced four other grandkids had to be sold. She knew it was hard. She felt my pain and sadness. It’s okay, she said, “because I can tell you’re at peace with this decision.”

Her family’s cross-country move to Michigan inspired me to move back too. Leaving my daughter and young grandkids was hard, but I felt a pull to return home. To return to where my story began. To be closer to my son’s teenagers. 

I found a condo and soon number one person was my roommate. A college student now, she stayed with me to be closer to campus. I drove her to classes, she took over the kitchen…a far better cook than grandma. We rode bikes on the trails, walked the neighborhood, discovered favorite restaurants and places to shop. A young woman now, she’s intelligent, creative and fearless…a Katniss warrior to this Pollyanna nana. Opposites in many ways and yet we mesh and muddle through things together as only best friends can. 

An art student, her painting of my blue beach cruiser with years of salty-air rust forever captured on canvas hangs on my living room wall. Most recently she’s put her creative talents into writing and completed a time travel mystery. Now we count the days. I cherish these moments with her as we face change once again. She’s moving back to California. It’s time. 

Her wings are more than ready to leave the family nest. 

She’s eager to go and do and be…all on her own.

Go sweet Sunshine Girl. 
Go follow your dreams. 
Listen to your heart, chase the waves again, feed your soul. 
You’ve brightened life for me all these years, 
the greatest gift I give you now is a nudge and a hug.
 Ich leibe dich.