I like my town. We have the best library though the ladies there are not so indulgent with out-of-towners like me. I no longer have the power of my Mom beside me to still any questioning of who I might be and where from. I have been a card-carrying daughter of a local for many more years than I actually lived there.

My Mom is living in a nursing home now. My Stepdad does not believe in reading, so he had no card to offer me. I did get to check out some books by way of a gracious gentleman who shared a table with my Stepdad. Looking up from the jigsaw puzzle he labored over, Bud raised his bushy eyebrows to offer me the indulgence of his card privileges, as long as I pledged to return the books in a timely fashion. So, I went home with a stack of art books to keep me company by the fire. I dug around at home to find Mom’s library card and tucked it away for next time.

I was in the UP for my Stepdad’s 90th birthday. We had quite a party complete with wine over lunch and a wonderful long story of his life in the UP. He is a forester and one of the earliest graduated from MSU. He and his cronies know the landscape with an eye for profit for the paper companies in forest products. They also know how to land walleye and survive the black flies. We celebrated Pa in the grandest fashion he would allow, balloons on the table and everything.

I visited my Mom. She is in a home with all sorts of people her age and older suffering from the rainbow of maladies the elderly endure. Mom has emerged from a 9-month bout with seeming nearly dead. Now, it is possible to have a bit of conversation with her and delight in her laughter, which makes all the hassle of getting there effortless. She is impish in her wheelchair and naughtily unlatches her seat belt, causing alarms to ring down the hall. She loves to read whatever she lays her eyes upon. I consider painting her walls with stories, because she would read them, one word at a time. Some moments were better than others, but it was a visit all the same, and much better than sitting next to what I thought would soon be her dying body. This was much more fun.

I like my town and I like my family. I like the friends I made when I lived there. They are among my most precious treasures. So are the memories of ice-skating way out on the bay to see fisherman working or walking the alleys with Mom collecting dandelions for our guinea pig. Kids I grew up with terrorized people by stealing carrots from backyard gardens. This weekend it rained on the snow and ice, so skating was dismal, but romantic all the same. The Upper Peninsula yields its beauty to those who can endure the flies, the weather and the nicknames, even if you are a visitor.

Snow and Ice are very nice