Friday, June 19, 2009

The Threshold

The lake was the beginning of my parents. Their decision to have me was reflected in the moment of their meeting. All it took for my parents was my mother's baptism in Lake Charlotte.

My Grandmother, Ingrid, moved our house all the way from Minneapolis to the bayside location of Lake Charlotte. She wouldn't live there long, because my father, once he found my mother, bought it from her.

The house was built on a foundation that is one brick short from a full basement. That might mean something, though I have never figured out what that might be.

On the day in question, my mother was helping paint Grandma Ingrid's house with her best friend Lilly and my Grandma Dolly. Their hair was unnaturally blonde like the rays of the sun got caught in the net of their hair. My Dad came over to see his mother and he found Dena.

Maybe it was love at first site, but the arrow to my dad's heart was my mom's smart mouth. She said some comment to him and he threw her into the lake. She was baptised into her new life from that moment. He turned around to his friend and said "I'm going to marry that girl."

Eventually my dad bought the place from my grandmother, and since he already, in his way, threw my mom over the threshold, or shoreline if you will it would be the place I would know my whole childhood.

Friday, June 12, 2009

Grandma Ingrid's Fox Trot

Grandma Ingrid taught me how to Fox Trot. She had an organ in her 1920's all-white sitting room. She used to play all sorts of music for us, but the Fox Trot was her favorite. Sometimes we would dance to the Laurence Welk show bands. She remembered all the moves.

I never saw Grandma in anything other than high heel shoes; the break your neck kind. She would dance in them better than anyone I knew. She even had a pair that were clear like glass slippers; I wonder if a prince gave them to her.

"Stephie" she said one time, "I used to dance at this place in Arizona called the Toad Bar. I really know how to shake it." She paused as she grabbed my hands and we twisted on the spot.
"Sometimes they would ask me to play a fast Fox Trot on the organ. I was the only one who could play fast enough without making any mistakes." She told me this as she sat down at the organ and began to play.

I was in awe as I watched her fingers move over the keys as fast as her feet could in any dance (even despite the high heels). She laughed as she played. This was the happiest I ever saw Grandma Ingrid.

She played and sang for me songs from her memories and I wonder if, as the sun set over Lake Charlotte, if others could hear her playing? Would they know how happy she was? Were they happy to hear her play, or was the music like a ghost over the water?

"Grandma, show me how to play like you?"

She helped me on the seat and let my fingers repeat the notes she played, but I was never that fast. Her fingers would soon take over and loose themselves in the song.

Once she finished playing and with a fading smile she said "I never learned how to read music. Just like your dad I can only play by ear."

I remember her sitting there at the organ and she looked eternal. She was a perfect preservation of former happiness; but the sun was setting behind her and the light was fading from the window. The white furniture in the room was blushing from the final pink light of the sun.

My mom came up stairs, "Stephanie, get your things. It's time to go home."

Grandma got up from the organ and the moment was forgotten. She walked us out to the car with a wave goodbye and a warning to watch out for the dip in the road. "It might be washed out from the rain this afternoon" She said.

The silence left by the organ was replaced by the endless bullfrog croaks. It was mating season for the bullfrogs. They were doing their own Fox Trot.

Tuesday, June 9, 2009

Swimsuit

I lived on a lake, it has defined me. From swimming with the fish under the rippling glass surface, to collecting frogs for a nickel a piece; I put them in a plastic ice cream pail. The lake washes over my life and changes me like waves over rock, smoothing me over.

I played bridge troll with my cousins at Grandma Ingrid's. We would take turns being the troll. My cousin Brian made a great troll. I was always scared to cross when it was his turn to attack us. Still, I was always just fast enough.

Grandma Ingrid liked me okay for a stranger, but I knew she thought something was odd when I wouldn't wear the washcloths pinned into a bathing suit (my Dad had forgot mine at home). "In the Great Depression they didn't have swimsuits" my Grandma would lecture me. It might be true I thought, but at four it didn't mean much to me.

At four I had a sense of pride. I knew right where my swimsuit was in my bedroom. There was only a lake between us. My dad could take the pontoon over and bring it right back, which he eventually did.

My cousin Annie and her friends were swimming. The rule was I had to swim with someone, or I couldn't go. I finally had MY swimsuit on and I started to run toward the lake just as my cousin and her friends decided they were done swimming.

I stood there in my brown two piece swimsuit, my feet were in water with murk and mud swirling around them. The lake was a true stars and stripe blue color. The murk settled as I stood there. No adults, so I couldn't swim. Instead I just stood there with tears like tadpoles plopping in the water.