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Uncle Chris finally untangled what was left of the rods
Cuidado! Extra long post to document a long weekend of fun! (logged by pat, edited by cyn). I exposed everyone to all the western Michigan experiences that I had as a kid, plus some extras.
Everybody had arrived by 9pm Saturday, and we commenced setting up tents, drinking beer and exchanging conversation into the night. The sun didn’t set until 9:27. Summer solstice and being in the extreme west of the time zone makes for very late twilight. Down the street from our humble cottage a man added ambiance with his prodigious karaoke skills. He serenaded us with everything from George Michael’s Faith to Nate Dog and Warren G’s Regulate. The next morning Dave and I renewed our "big breakfast" ritual (bacon, sausage, hash browns, pancakes, cinnamon rolls, scrambled eggs coffee, and OJ). A delicious and gluttonous tradition. Then we went to P.J. Hoffmaster State park for dune climbing and lounging on the beach – the finest sands in the world IMO, but that title will be put to the test over the next weeks in our world travels. The temperature was just right, at least when the sun was out.
We returned back to the cottage for showers and lasagna, only to head back to Grand Haven to walk the pier, get ice cream and witness the performance of the World’s Largest Musical Fountain. The best laid plans. Of course, Michigan weather being capricious and schizophrenic, we had to wait out a brief shower (or downpour, if you ask Cynthia) before venturing to the Pier Peddler ice cream shop which was uncharacteristically (or characteristically, if you ask Cynthia) closed before sunset. Did I mention the double rainbow?
Frustrated by the lack of summer sugar in our veins, or just desperate to feel more alive after surviving diabetic coma, we continued to forage for frozen treats. The group, pretty lukewarm about the idea of the musical fountain in general, suddenly discovered great enthusiasm(or was it well-disguised sarcasm?) upon spotting it in the distance. Nothing says "Grand Haven, Michigan" like Margaritaville and Wipeout to frantic, spastic dancing children doing that peace-sign-finger-in-front-of-the-eye move made famous by Pulp Fiction against the backdrop of swaying spouts of water and mediocre spotlight color-change technology. Subsequently, we found an open ice-cream shop. They had five sizes of flurry, the largest requiring drop shipment delivery. Cynthia and I split a small Heath mashup, but lacked the insulin fortitude to see it to the end.
Back at the cottage, most of the women faded early (Cynthia was the lone trooper), and my eyelids were feeling heavy. Ross came to the rescue with a pile of dry wood and the manly idea to burn it on the cottage’s micro-beach. The fire was warm on a cool night, and we were up till 3AM leching, laughing and reminiscing.
Today, another breakfast, a game of trivial pursuit, and then we said our goodbyes (not to worry, most will be back together on Wednesday for the Tiger game). Then a change of gear at my cousin’s graduation party just a few blocks away. I got to see some Casslemans I hadn’t since our wedding. Another of my cousins is flying out to Cancun the same day and flight we are, crazy.
Cynthia and I watched the sunset on the porch, some much needed alone time.
All in all, a great weekend . . . meeting my intrinsic need for ritual, friends and family. Work is a distant memory as endless possibility looms in the foreground.
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