Thursday, September 20, 2012
Monday, September 17, 2012
Something we all need
Why doesn't every airport have such an area? There were plenty of seating units and places to, uh, well . . . recombobulate after the carryon-luggage deconstruction.
Another delightful find in Milwaukee's airport is Renaissance Books, a used bookstore with a magnificent selection. This is not your ordinary paperback-exchange kind of bookstore, but a genuine collection of old, out-of-print hardbacks, as well as newer, literary paperbacks and an enormous amount of tantalizing non-fiction. The owner told Hubby he thinks his is the only such store anywhere in a U.S. airport, "since most used-books found in airports are in the 'swap kind' of store." Check Renaissance out the next time you're in Beer-town, but don't let the unusual breadth and depth of its inventory cause you to miss your flight.
Saturday, September 15, 2012
Last week we celebrated our fiftieth anniversary at the site of another fair. This time we were at the County Fairgrounds in Kewaunee County, Wisconsin, where Wayne, second cousin to Hubby, had rented an exhibition hall for the “cousin meet-up.” In the company of about 160 relatives, of which fewer than twenty were known to us ahead of time, our golden wedding anniversary played second fiddle to the gathering of the descendants of John B. Hendricks of Luxemburg, Wisconsin.
It was an outstanding event—about six hours of eating and talking—beautifully organized by Wayne. Joan and Judy, siblings of Hubby and fellow attendees at the Hendricks' gathering, ordered a cake inscribed with “Happy Anniversary Jay and Sallie,” so in the midst of celebrating the legacy of John B. Hendricks, we were reminded that we’d been married a full fifty years—and fifty full years they’ve been. There were present, I might add, a good many cousins who'd clearly made it longer than fifty, but there were many who hadn't made that milestone, as well.
When Hubby and I got back to the hotel that night, we pored over the anniversary card, which had been passed around at the gathering and given to us at the end of the day. Many signors were unknown to us, but everyone wrote the traditional well wishes for many more anniversaries. Except one person . . . and he sent us into a ten-minute bout of laughter with his inscription. Hubby’s nephew, Robbie, wrote, “Almost done!” We are still laughing at his take on the event with that original, universal truth.
Our four adult children planned a big surprise for us that first evening in Door County, ordering a big, black limousine to drive up to our modest inn in Ellison Bay and deliver us to a beautiful restaurant in Sister Bay for an extravagent dinner, all with their compliments. Limousines are rarely seen in Door County, so we were the object of much speculation by bystanders. I tried pretending we were distant relatives of the British monarchy, but figured it was more likely people thought we had just won the lottery and hadn't had time to improve our wardrobes.
We had a heck-of-a nice anniversary celebration over those two days, which almost made us think we shouldn't have laughed so hard at "almost done." When the days are as pleasant as they were on our lovely, relaxing, and fun vacation, one can wish fervently that the adventure isn't "almost done."
Robbie's comment will stay with us—with an ensuing chuckle (we hope)—forever.
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