Perpetual Ruminations

Saturday

I'm getting in here a little earlier again today, before I up and run out of steam. I worked a long shift today, starting at five this morning and not getting done until five thirty this evening. It was kind of busy, but slower than it has been, which was good. It was also very muggy out.

That's a phrase my parents used a lot in the summer. We lived in northern Minnesota, and the summers were hot and humid. Of course, with 10,000 lakes, it's bound to be kind of humid, and if you figure at least two swamps for each lake -- well I think you get the picture. We would have some hot weather for a few days, up in the 90's, then a mass of cold air would move down out of Canada and the storms would be filled with high energy and a lot of water. After, as the clouds broke up and the sun came back out, the temperature would hike back up and the humidity would race it.

That's when the term muggy would get used the most. Hot, humid, and little or no breeze, that's what muggy is. Muggy also meant we would likely go to the lake so everyone could cool down. After, we would stop at A&W and get something to eat, since it was to muggy to cook anything, and of course, we always got a big mug of root beer. Often, we would get a jug of root beer to bring home, and maybe even get to have a root beer float. Once in a while it was just muggy enough that dad would skip right past the local A&W and take us over to Hibbing for ice cream at the Dairy Queen. Most of the time it was just for a cone, but once in a while we would get to order anything we wanted, and then it was a banana split.

It was on these occasions when we went to Hibbing for ice cream that mom would mention it was terribly hot to cook, and nobody would be hungry for a while after eating so much ice cream. Dad would agree, and then it was off to Kentucky Fired Chicken for a bucket of chicken, mashed potatoes with gravy, and of course, coleslaw. By the time we got home, we would all be hungry from smelling the chicken and dig right in. Mom would pick out a breast for dad's lunch the next day, then it was just a matter of passing the bucket around. This was a rare occasion, and it didn't happen often at all, but when it did, what a treat!

Of course, there were other times we would go out to a cafe to eat if it was real hot, especially if we went to Grand Rapids shopping. We lived in Nashwauk, and it was closer to drive to Hibbing, but mom and dad never liked to shop over in Hibbing. Instead it was always a half hour drive into Grand Rapids, every weekend. Most times if dad stopped by the bar to talk with friends, we would get to go out to eat. Sometimes it was at Kentucky Fried Chicken, others it would be Burger King. Most times, however, it was one of the cafes in town. There were two that mom really enjoyed, Mickey's Cafe and the Marlin Cafe. I think Mickey's had better food, but mom favored the Marlin Cafe. They both were good, but the Marlin Cafe was right next door and connected to the Marlin Bakery, and they had the best pies.

Mom's favorite was pumpkin pie with whip cream, and the Marlin Bakery made a very scrumptious pumpkin pie. Of course, they made all sorts of scrumptious pies, cakes, rolls, and any other yummy bakery item you can think of. As kids, we didn't care which we went to, it was just special to go out to eat. Once in a great while dad would join us, but not often. Most of the time it was just us kids and mom.

Of course, we would go in to Grand Rapids pretty early on Saturday morning, and we never got back until afternoon. Most of the time it was late afternoon at that. Dad would stop for a drink or two, and we would wait, and wait. Mom would go in to get him after a while, and then it was more waiting. Then, Mom would come out and we would go do our shopping. First stop, get something to eat, since it was now after lunch time. Then it was off to buy the rest, getting the groceries last, since we may still have to wait for dad.

And we would; he was never ready to go until closing time. So, we would wait for a while, mom would go in and have another drink with him, then try and get him to leave since we had groceries in the car. Sometimes he did, but most times he stayed and we went home. Later, he would call and need a ride, but that was well past our kids bedtime. After I was older, it became my job to drive back in and pick up my, now very drunk, dad.

Memories, how they flood back and wash you off onto topics you had not even thought about writing on. Some good, some bad, but all a part of my past, and a part of who I am  today.