I got up earlier than usual last Wednesday while on vacation. I wanted to get my exercise in, along with my shower, my coffee drinking, my breakfast, my journal writing—all of that—and still maintain a sense of leisure in my timetable. You see, we were headed for Bayfield that day, and whenever my father is captain, you can bet your bottom that we'll leave early.

It was raining...one of the reasons we chose that particular day for two-and-a-half hour trip [one way] to see Lake Superior. My morning began well. When the time came, I jauntily arose to wake my husband who had pledged unfailingly to join my parents, brother and me on the trip. Well, with a lead like that, I bet you won't be surprised to learn that he bailed on us at the last possible minute, citing body ache from a supposedly rough game of badminton two days previous. I was unsympathetic to say the least...I mean, I beamed my aunt's left breast with the birdie, and she didn't carry on holding her chest for the better part of the week.

I remember thinking in my head as I marched from the cabin on legs unbent, "You little shit," and calling back through the screen door, "Hope you feel better, Miles." I don't think that either of my aunts, who hadn't planned on going to Bayfield, questioned my real sentiments. But, so much like my Aunt Brenda, of bruised bust fame, my temper is a quick burn. You never have to question if I'm upset with you, because I leave little doubt to the contrary when that is the case. Once I erupt, though, it's over. I'm all Mary Sunshine again, and wondering why you are looking at me like I just kicked a puppy.

It takes quite a bit to ignite the beast, and I wasn't angry so much as disappointed...which is why I didn't blister ears with my parting words. I did  feel badly that he was sore. Out of shape. Aging rapidly. Practically decrepit...I did!—I had just been so excited to spend the day with him, you see.




Brenda called to remind me to grab my tailbone cushion as I stalked off, and I retrieved it, grateful for the reminder. Mom and I talked unabated during the first hour...about life, health, and evolving dietary preferences. My father and brother, in the front of the vehicle, seemed not to pay attention to us until I uttered the "V" word. Charlie whipped his head back and snarled, "YOU'RE BECOMING A VEGETARIAN!?" His forehead crinkled centerward with such severity that he gave himself a unibrow.

Mom coaxed, "Not exactly...we just don't like meat...it's becoming harder and harder to eat it." If she could have, she would have patted his head, licked her hand to smooth his cowlick, and given him a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup. This is how Mom handles Charlie. She knows this doesn't work on me.

I respond better with clothing over candy.

We passed a sign to a Country Kitchen and Mom hinted, "Boy, that sure looks like a good place to stop for breakfast!" And an hour later, when tummies were seriously growling, we decided that Dad was going to stop where Dad wanted to stop—and no ifs, ands, or buts about it. It is often said that my father is hard of hearing, but being that he can hear a muttered curse, offered in his name, from 5 rooms away with the TV blaring, bacon sizzling, and the washer in a spin cycle, don't you dare try to tell me that it isn't selective hearing.

We stopped in a diner in Ashland, where Dad, who isn't much of a breakfast eater by his own claim, managed to pack away his meal along with some of Charlie's. Mom and I practically inhaled our oatmeal to keep it protected. Mom, in serious need of a jacket against the chilly lake mist, ordered a visit to the local Wal-Mart. I had been to Ashland with my paternal grandparents, 2 aunts, cousin, and my father in 2001 for a family reunion. My grandmother has a thing for Wal-Marts. Everywhere we go with her we have to check out the Wal-Mart. It is all I can do to keep from exploding, "THEY'RE ALL THE SAME!" Needless to say, I had been to this particular branch, and the knowledge did not make me feel overly cultured. When finally we made it to Bayfield, Dad bought some smoked fish and let Charlie and I get out, briefly, and take a few pictures of the marina.




And then we left Bayfield.

Mom muttered in exasperation from the side of her mouth, "You drive two-and-a-half hours just to buy fish!?" I can't say that I wasn't a bit put out myself. Charlie looked out of sorts as well, and the gurgling waters of three mouths mumbling expletives seemed to reach my father's "malfunctioning" ears.

"I can go back after we hit Cornucopia," he promised. My grandmother's family is from Cornucopia. I used to have a t-shirt from there that proclaimed the area to be "America's North Coast." Man, I loved that shirt. It really confused people...and I'm all about feeding widespread confusion. It is a rural place boasting a population of just over 200 people. There wasn't really much to do in Cornucopia, it being past tourist season and all, so we stopped in the general store that has been up and running since the beginning of time. I'll bet that even the great Biblical figures special ordered their supplies from the general store in Cornucopia, WI. I'll even bet that they're still carrying some of the sandals that were big sellers from that era.

Cornucopia is nicknamed "Corny" by its residents. While I couldn't find another "America's North Coast" shirt, I did find one that said, simply, "Corny" across the chest. I figured that even if people don't get the Cornucopia reference, and who would outside of those 200 residents hundreds of miles away, the verbiage suits me.




We returned to Bayfield to take more pictures...the foreboding sky seemed to compliment the greatest of The Great Lakes strikingly, and Charlie and I gobbled up the photogenic goodness. I even had the opportunity to exercise the timer on my camera, capturing a picture wherein the males of the family look to be suffering a fragrantly bad case of gas while I try unsuccessfully to remain unaffected. But hey, doesn't Mom look good?






We laughed and joked and enjoyed precious family moments. So much of that gets lost in our modern times...once in awhile it takes going back to the basics to remind us of the importance of our loved ones and their contribution to our lives. I'm sure it all sounds very boring, but I loved it. We returned to the resort late afternoon. I checked on Miles to see how he was feeling, asked him out on a date, and felt good about life.