My antennae should have pricked when Northwood sent an email: “You’re coming up here on X weekend. I got tickets for you. Here’s the information.” It’s not usually like him to make plans without consulting me. But he didn’t.
So come Travel Day, when Mountain and Northwood picked me up, I had no suspicions. We reached his house. He was standing maybe 10 feet in front of me and, I think, had on a white t-shirt. I bent down to unlace my boots.
When I stood up, something was seriously wrong with Northwood’s face. It was too long, and his hair was the wrong color and cut… even his t-shirt was now dark. I was a good three or four breaths into a heart attack before I realized it wasn’t Northwood—it was Eldest, Bassmaster, with a smirk on his face (he’s the best at smirks).
I think I shrieked, and grabbed the nearly-middle-aged man for a hug (he gives the best hugs ever)—I hadn’t seen him in almost four years—and giggles and snickers accompanied the rest of his clan as they came out from various hideyholes. Much hugging and laughter and, on my part, tears and sniffles ensued.
Bassmaster and Mrs. Bassmaster, who always go to her family’s in South Dakota for the holidays, told me a bald-faced lie about why they were there. It amounted to “the blizzard (which really existed and was really bad) closed all the roads (I didn’t think to ask why that mattered if they’d flown), so we had to hole up here ’til things settle down. We’ll probably be leaving in the morning.” Gullible Mom (where she came from, I don’t know) swallowed it, proverbial hook, line, and sinker. Mrs. B. later said it was seriously difficult to look me in the eye and lie like that, but I don’t think it bothered Bassmaster!
They all know I go to bed at a ridiculously early hour because appallingly long sleep hygiene. But they poured me a little sample of whiskey, and in a favorite Bassmaster trick, kept refilling it while I was looking elsewhere. The annoying thing is this always seems to work, because I’m paying attention to the people, not the glass.
They kept me up, anyway, for another hour or two, when I heard a third male voice around the corner, and Snaotheus sauntered cheekily into the room. “Hi, Mom!” he said, as if this was no big deal. Predictably, I shrieked again and repeated the weepy-sniffles routine, and the rest of his clan joined us, causing yet more hugging and laughter.
This was the first time all three sons had been together with me and their families in about seven years—since Northwood’s wedding—and the first time the cousins had all been together ever, since Mountain is only three (and naturally monopolized my time—she’s too little to understand spreading one grandmother across five kids, one of whom is a newly married adult whom I didn’t get to talk to enough).
This event came about because, during the October visit to Northwood’s, he asked, “Mom, if you could have anything in the world for your birthday, what would it be?”
“To get to spend some time with you and your brothers and your families, all together,” I responded. “That would be the best gift ever.” (At my age, it could also be the last time.) Apparently he not only really heard me, but told Snaotheus, who is rather good at cat-wrangling, and back-chatter began about how to make this happen. Bassmaster was the last to be able to commit and the other two were a little concerned he might not make it, but he came through. He and Mrs. B. have recently gotten into creating utterly gorgeous charcuterie boards from spalted woods, exotic forest finds, epoxies of various colors and shimmers, and in several different shapes. Bassmaster had brought a flame maple one for me (which unfortunately will be at Northwood’s until the next time Northwood comes here, because it wasn’t going to fit easily in any plane-worthy container) and I think spalted maple for Mrs. Northwood. Gorgeous work; his grandpa would be so proud to see him doing such lovely woodworking. (Actually, their grandpa would be inordinately proud of the fine, accomplished men they’ve all become.)
Thus ensued a weekend during which we didn’t do a lot but talk and laugh and construct NoDak foods that involved everyone, a lot of dough, and a great big mess. The first evening Mountain made me read 23 books for her (her entire weekly allotment of library books plus a bunch of others). The pace didn’t slow much on other days, either. The girl loves her stories!
Chilkat, Chilkoot, and Miss J spent a lot of time (with the occasional interruption—erm, contribution—from Mountain) building things with the Legos from their fathers’ childhoods—the good kind, that were intended to spur imaginative building, not the confounded kits they put out today that are basically complicated showpieces that nobody’s going to want to take apart to build something else with. One of their creations was the longest Lego man ever, constructed of all the bodies, torsos, and all the heads the brothers had collected over roughly 15 years. He filled the entire green bench to the right.
Bassmaster fired up the grill outside to fry the fleischkuechle we made (involving several slightly confused arguments about who remembered what about how they were made). We wound up with enough knephla soup to feed an army (and it was miraculously all gone by the time we left).
Lots of beer and whiskey of many varieties was consumed, and on Sunday they went to breweries and I stayed home with the littles (read: mostly Mountain). While Mountain was napping, Miss J took the opportunity to ask me to teach her to knit; this time, rather than the yellow pencils and Kevlar cord we had to work with in Guam, we had actual needles and garden twine. It didn’t work a whole lot better, but when I see her next—hopefully soon—we will get the right tools and materials for the girl!
Real life intruded on Monday, when the Bassmasters had to go home; I came home Tuesday, and the Snaotheus clan headed out later on Tuesday. I’m sure the Northwoods were glad to get their gigantimous house back (it’s a miracle it held us all) and their usual routines back in place.
But ah, what a weekend. Individually, I’ve had Best Visits Ever with each of my sons over the years; this easily takes top prize as The Ultimate Top-of-the-line Best Visit Ever Involving All My Offspring and Descendants. It was fabulous. Thank you, guys and families, for taking the time and expense to come from both sides of the continent for me, and to Northwood for hosting; I love you all beyond all counting.
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