It was a full on day on the Great Lakes. I was in Toronto, at St.
George’s Cathedral to start, and then a variety of places in the St.
Lawrence District of town: Mystic Muffin, George’s restaurant, the
condo 21 floors above the skyline, overlooking the church where the
union had been solemnified that morning in a flurry of veil and and
dresses and uniforms.
It was quite a day. There was a lot of emotion. The bride was radiant.
Somewhere in the midst of divesting one costume for another, and one
venue for the next, I saw that my brother had written from the Little
Village by the Bay. He is there now, doing his turn in the barrel. It
is funny, all of connected by this necklace of fresh water that
collectively embrace us in the Great Lakes Country, the most drinkable
mass of H2O on the planet.
From the Bride’s balcony I could see Rochester, NY, across the lake,
and I could sail to the little village by the bay in a few days, if I
had the inclination. I read the status update with interest, after I
copied the words to the song that I was going to attempt to sing that
afternoon:
“How the world can change,
It can change like that,
Due to one little word:
Marriage.
See a palace rise
From two-room flat
Due to one little word:
Marriage.
And the old despair
That was often there.
Suddenly ceases to be
And I’ll wake today,
Look at you
and say:
Somebody wonderful married me.”
I copied the words into my iPad and then read through the queue of
messages that had piled up when we were at the church.
“I not sure why I ran indoors today,” he started. “I did not have to be
inside at the College. it stopped raining after two days. Then I tooled
over to Potemkin Village and Big Mama popped around the lobby corner as
soon as I came in the front door.”
“We’re having doughnuts!” she chirped and hustled back around the
corner to where Raven sat engaged with half a sugar speckled air and
lard confection.
Raven managed a weak smile. Big Mama beamed. “It’s a special day.”
“They have doughnuts every morning, Mom.”
“But we don’t! Besides, it’s all different here now!”
We had been talking for several days about the two Petoskeys and
the two hospitals. Were there now two IV’s? Perhaps, but she was
ready to move on.
We loaded up and drove. The bright sun on the bay cheered us as we
motored towards Charlevoix. Raven, looking less like Almost Death and
more like Old Man, took the opportunity to nod off in the front seat.
A lone string of drool hung from his unshaven lip but remained like a
drop of dew in the morning light.
Halfway to Charlevoix we saw the runners on the bikepath by Lake
Michigan. We counted miles to their marathon goal– , 19, 20, 21 . . .
with a few miles to go they angled off into the old treed neighborhoods
north of Charlevoix and we lost them until just before the finish near
the drawbridge. It was a low key marathon, but still inspiring to
watch a few runners switch into another gear for the last hundred yards.
Big Mama was entranced. Raven dozed.
After we crossed into the tourist main street with its banners and
jaywalkers the bridge rose for a passing boat and we parked in front of
the local bookstore. Big Mama shopped for books and a Free Press.
“A day just isn’t a day without the Free Press!”
“Ancient history” I said as the shopkeeper gently shook his head.
We tooled through the green forests past blue water as we angled over
the Boyne City and back up 131. It was a cup of chili and grilled
cheese at the Side Door Saloon as the solicitous owner nodded at Raven
and thanked us for our patronage.
Back at Potemkin Village Raven went into standby mode on the couch as
Henry Fonda, Ward Bond, James Cagney and Jack Lemmon took us to a cargo
ship in the South Pacific.
copyright Vic and Spike Socotra
www.vicsocotra.com