Faraway series, photos from elsewhere, #89
Forty Years today
Freemont Cemetery, Bancroft, MI, July, 2002
A story from the summer of 2002
Beth & I drove out west (destination Wyoming), over Lakes Huron and
Superior, crossing the former on the Tobermory-S. Baymouth ferry to
Manitoulin Island (as I had done long ago on a return to Chicago for another
year of grad school). Two goals added up to irresistible attraction: visit my
college buddy (who gave us Zoe the previous December) in old favorite Jackson Hole, compete in the NA's near Edmonton and maybe make the end of the 1000 days event near Laramie.
It was great to be heading west with Beth & Zoe. I had not travelled a westbound road in many years. There was that open space freedom, more so on our route into Canada. We paused at the lake shores for swims,
Lake Superior shore
drove through rough Duluth, stopped at Ely (canoe and lake country) and continued west to Minneapolis-St Paul. There, after a most mosquitoey night at a campground near the airport (where Z's face was temporarily "reformatted"), I flew to Edmonton. Beth continued driving to Jackson Hole with Zoe across South Dakota in summer heat on her own adventure which included the Little Bighorn site of Custer's last stand, one of those Hollywood-standoffs that captures the
imagination (like the Alamo). I spent some exceedingly hot but fun days at the NAOC's, then flew to JH where we rendezvoused with Bruce & Venti.
Fish Creek Ranch
Bruce & Venti, Z lower left, Z's father, Solo, right front
We did the usual fun things one does in such a splendid out-of-doors environment, eg, raft on the Snake and bike in GTNP. We hiked through Granite Canyon, a 16 mile descent from the top of the ski lift through wildflower-filled meadows, following the same paths I'd taken in the summer of '73.
Bruce's view of Sleeping Indian
summer '73 we made a campfire on his abdomen without so much as a stir
Looking toward Granite Canyon
Wildflower riot
Too soon, it was time to head east across the Plains (we stopped at Laramie for the Long O event), then continued across the Corn Belt into the more populous states. We were driving across Indiana when I thought to myself...Bancroft, MI, Freemont Cemetery, mother's grave site. She died in Denver in 1972, age 52. In thirty years, I had never visited her grave. I was not at her funeral or memorial service. I went to Greece 26 December 1971. When I returned on 9 January, my father called with the news of her death. Here we were in northern Indiana. I looked at the road map, noting Bancroft's location NE of Lansing, some 100 miles to our north. Heading north, we got off IS 69, not knowing where the cemetery was. But it was close by, a green sanctuary in the quiet summer countryside. We slowly walked from the near to far end. Finally, in the older section, we found the Fox-Harvey plot in the shade of trees, as many as 30 years later than should have been for me.
Now it's January 2, 2012, 40 years to the day after her death. I'm not sure I'd have written this except for the compelling fact that this January 2nd is a Monday, a faraway Monday. So this is a time for a tribute to mother, from whom life stole away, resting under the distant Michigan earth. Every spring I, of course, think of her. How poignant to be born near the first day of spring - when daffodils make their debut...but 40 years ago, how much of a misfortune to be placed to rest under a piece of carved granite in the cold of winter.
In that faraway place...
A lone candle's glow,
Falls softly on fresh snow.
Time passes gently by
Memories dim yet softly cry:
Awake...Awake!
Be thee as daybreak.
Be the rising sun day by day
Hold my hand from far, far away.
FHL
photo w/o date