Up North ... again

ANKENY, IOWA – It’s Saturday night, and Linus and I just finished sharing some fried chicken.

Okay, the chicken is beside the point.  Though it was pretty good for Culver’s.

I know north!

The bigger point is that we’re heading north.  We drove about four hours on the highway late this afternoon; we’ll do about seven tomorrow.  Tonight we’re at a Comfort Inn, which is so pet-friendly that our hallway sounds like a kennel.

I know we’re heading north for two reasons:

First, I put on my “Up North” t-shirt today, so I’m reminded with each full-length mirror.

Second, the sun was flinging daggers through the driver’s side window almost the entire trip.  For my directionally challenged friends and family, that might not mean much.  But I know my compass points – I remain a mighty Boy Scout – so when the sun is to your left late on a Saturday afternoon, you absolutely are facing north.

The sun proved so obnoxious, in fact, that I pulled Linus’s white towel from under him and somehow bunched it in the window and draped it on my head and shoulder to block the rays.

Coolness prevailed, although drivers who passed must have wondered if my hair was in a bun and I’d just stepped from the shower.

“North” means so much to us Weavers.  I’ve written plenty about the family cottage that used to sit yards away from Glen Lake in Michigan … how it shaped all of us in fantastic ways.  It’s always been a magical place.  Eric proposed to daughter Meghan near there.

So it only seemed natural that when faced with two tasks – to write the ceremony for Meghan and Eric’s July wedding, and to finally finish a book about the cottage that I’ve been working on for two years – I had to head in Canada’s direction, not Mexico’s.  Meantime, the family appreciated that I needed some quiet time to get the job done.

And so awaiting me tomorrow is a small cabin in Lutsen, Minn., that overlooks Lake Superior.  Lutsen has a population of 180 and one gasoline station. Not surprisingly, the cabin is in the woods.  The owner warned me to watch out for wolves, and I intend to. 

But it also has a great view of the lake. Superior is the largest of the Great Lakes, so it’s the big, burly brother of Lady Michigan, which remains our favorite Great Lake.  It’ll be interesting to see Superior’s breadth.

By the way, I brought Linus, not big-dog Nellie, because I’m driving the VW Beetle.  Getting Nellie in a Beetle is like getting me into size 32 jeans … something is bound to pop.  Plus, the last time Nellie crossed the Minnesota border in a car – see this post – she manufactured 50 gallons of dog slobber.  I have a swimming pool at home.  I don’t need one on the road. 

Cindy noted that my two tasks at the cabin will be emotionally challenging for me. She knows me, of course, and she’s seen me wrestle with both.  Writing about the cottage always prompts a few tears.  Not sure why … although I’m not alone.  (Cindy sometimes reads back on what I’ve written and turns in to a faucet. A nice thing, really.) 

As for the upcoming wedding … heck, I could barely get through reading “The Night Before Christmas” to Meghan and Zach this last Christmas – something I’ve done since they were knee-high – because I knew Meg would soon be turning a new page in her life.

The good news is that I’ve accepted that I’m a wuss … which is quite liberating, actually. Sure, I can be the tough guy when the situation demands it.  But reaching in and plucking those heart strings – painfully sometimes – has shown me things about myself, my family and life that I’d never known otherwise. Writing tends to bring it out. 

It’ll be an interesting four days at this cabin.

Just south of Des Moines on I-35, I put on some folk tunes and found myself scripting in my head Meghan and Eric’s wedding ceremony.

A few tears started. 

“Good gawd!” I shouted to Linus in disgust. 

I could blame the music. It was the Wailin’ Jennys, after all, that achingly beautiful Canadian group.  Although that's not fair to them ... I really know it's me. 

Still, I’m a practical wuss. 

Because as the drops formed, that white towel bunched between window and head also proved mighty handy for making the tears disappear.

Sure, I might have my hair in a bun.

But damn if any truck driver is going to catch me blubbering on the road.