Windchimes

catching up a bit, going backwards, dotted outline

(or "How I spent my summer vacation")
A long weekend at Dad's
My youngest daughter and I returned yesterday from Columbus, where we stayed with my father and visited with my in-laws, my sister, her husband and my nieces. It's been a while since we've seen them. Dad's been to Romania and Nebraska this summer. He went through Hungary on his way and had a 7 hour layover at Charles de Gaulle in Paris on his way back. He brought all of us souvenirs from Hungary and Romania.

The group he traveled with spent most of their time in Bistrita, Romania. Bistrita and Columbus, GA (my hometown and where all the aforementioned folks still live) are sister cities. I'm not sure what that really means but it definitely sounds like something nice. I suppose what it really means is that two or more people in public offices declared it to be so at some point in the past, and some inhabitants of both cities keep in contact with each other. So Dad spent quite a bit of time showing me his photos and telling me about the visit.

There's quite a stork population in Romania in the Spring. Dad got a photo of one of their nests. There was an obstetrician in the group who tells all his patients that storks bring babies. Dad didn't mention seeing any storks bearing gifts though.

I also got to see photos taken at some Nebraskan uncles and aunts' houses, and dad told me a little about how they're all doing. We also talked about everything that happened just before and when Mom died last year. It's the first time we've been able to talk at length about all of it.

The last evening I was there, Dad started talking about what things in the house should go where, how us girls would need to decide who gets this or that, in the case he'd have to move from the house at any time. I suppose that time will have to come at some point. Of course, I'd prefer it be much later than sooner. Somehow, though, I'm handling these kind of discussions much better than I used to could.

Mostly, I enjoyed my long weekend in Columbus. I did notice, however, that Dad seems to have lost any reluctance to say whatever he thinks, and especially forcefully if he suspects one of us might disagree with him. It's not very pleasant. The instance that stuck in my craw the hardest and longest came up just after I said something about "next time I go to France". Dad seems to have totally bought into the notion (as have many people in this staunchly conservative belt) that France can be defined by the sum total of its politics, thus he made a comment that I don't care to repeat. I'm sure he'll repeat it at his next opportunity. I just hope I'm not there.

I think it affected me so deeply because, well, I love France. I love going there, I think the friends I've made there are wonderful, and I admire how they value their homes and families. On top of all that, I've spent beaucoups of time studying the language and literature. Hours of my life. People who should know tell me I'm fluent in the language. In other words, it's part of what defines me. I identify, at some level, with France and the French.

On another side note, much shorter than the side note in the last entry, I'm cheating a little here. I mean I'm not writing this entry all at once. I'm writing some, comng back to add more, trying to avoid stopping too quickly due to life's routine interruptions, like cooking dinner. I want to finish writing what I decided to write about in this entry.

Atlantic Beach & the Crystal Coast
We stayed in some classy digs on our NC vacation. A beautiful, fully furnished and equipped appartment within five minutes walking time from the beach. A television in the living room and one in the bedroom. Nice flower arrangement on the glasstop dining table and plenty of drawers and other space in which to store our belongings during the week. Pools all over the resort, a hot tub right next to our building, a garden tub with jacuzzi jets in an ample sized bathroom. The appartment was so nice I could have happily stayed there without going to see any of the area's attractions. That would have been a shame though.

We probably spent too much time watching T.V., which should sound less silly if I point out we don't normally get to watch T.V. Still we managed to get to the beach and play in the ocean a couple of times, we went on a ghost tour of Beaufort, did the mariner's museum there, and took a boat ride to Cape Lookout to see the lighthouse. I want to go back and see the wild ponies on Carrot Island and Shackleford Island more close-up, and take a truck ride out to the point on Cape Lookout to do some shelling. They say the island is situated where the tide washes in some incredible shells.

We did the ghost tour on Monday night. I guess most towns with any age on them lay claim to some ghosts. The Carolina Coast, however, with its Outer Banks (groups of long, skinny islands sitting across a thin stretch of ocean called a "sound") was very popular with pirates. They could easily hide in the sounds, with the true coast on one side and an island on the other, to surprise ships coming in from the ocean. So, I'm told, Blackbeard hung around there quite a bit. Beaufort's Hammock House (named "hammock" because that's what they called the land formation there, if I remember correctly) is touted as Blackbeard's favorite residence. He'd have been able to see ships for quite a ways out from the second story window, and back in the day, the water came right up to his front yard. He could ride a boat home. A lady named Carrie told us ghost stories as we walked around Beaufort just before, during, and just after sundown. I think she said that's what her name was. Sometimes, I just don't trust my hearing anymore. "Carrie" seems like too perfect a name for a ghost tourguide.

She told us the story of the murder of Blackbeard's 13th wife and the boy who would have spirited her away. She really told that story, and all the other stories, very entertainingly. I might miss something, but I want to try retelling them anyway, if for no other reason than having some sort of written record for my own purposes.

But I've just come back from continuing supper preparations, and mealtime looms in the near future. I suppose I'll save the rest of this for another entry.

France
in general
(what's up at home)
(website activities of late)

J.H. Larrew
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