Aug 25, 2021 – Full of Grace

With what could only be divine intervention, the voice over the phone replied to my desperate request, “Actually, your campsite just became available. You can arrive two weeks earlier if you like.” With that phone call, my mind was no longer in Glacier National Park where we were parked for several days. Instead, I was 1600 miles away in Michigan where we needed to be sooner than later.

After five months of traveling several thousand miles, mostly in the mountains and deserts of the western states, we welcomed the upcoming extended stay on a lakeview campsite in Michigan’s north country. But as urgent matters needed our attention, most of our time was spent in nearby Gaylord, my hometown and where mom was living at The Brook.

Gaylord -“The Alpine town” – is known for its charming Tyrolean architecture, especially its main street lined with steep gabled roofs and decorative flower balconies. On our travels throughout the country, we discovered that the United States is full of charming small towns with unique attractions and history that thrive on road travel tourism. I’ve always been proud to have grown up in one of those towns, and after leaving it 40 years ago I frequently come back to visit, just for fun. This time, it was different.

Everything reminded me of mom, like the northwest corner of Exit 282 where Interstate-75 crosses Gaylord’s main street and where the Chalet Motor Lodge and Restaurant once stood. In its place is a newly constructed Tru by Hilton, an aberration of modern architecture that contradicts the Chalet’s Swiss Motif. For as long as I can remember, the Chalet stood as a roadside landmark that welcomed visitors to the Alpine Town. Mom worked at the Chalet’s reservation desk for years and she often allowed me to hang out there while she worked. I could watch color TV in the lobby, go swimming in the indoor pool, buy a Tab from the coke machine. None of these treats were available to me at home. Watching mom in her spiffy blue uniform greet people from faraway places stirred my imagination that became my wanderlust.

During our visit, Vivian and I walked Gaylord’s Main Street where businesses from the past have long ago been replaced. Plaques on historic buildings reminded me of some of those businesses and many memories of time spent downtown. We passed a community art gallery that long ago was Bill’s Party Store, where I stole a 12-pack of beer on a teenage dare. When mom found out, she marched me down to Bill’s, made me apologize and pay for the beer.

We passed the Fifth Third Bank which was the Gaylord State Savings Bank where mom helped me get my first loan to buy a new stereo and establish credit at the age of 18. Next up was the Otsego County Building where the county library used to be and where mom brought me to get my first library card, a rite of passage that opened the world to me.

Of all the memories I have of mom while growing up in Gaylord, the one that stands out the most involves St Mary’s Catholic Church. Memories of Sunday morning services with my family came to me as I stood on the steps of the neo-gothic building. Even more memorable was St Mary’s Elementary School and its principal Sister Michaela.

One day, mom received a call from Mrs. Bozwiak, Sister Michaela’s secretary. I was in the fourth grade, and it was the last Friday of the month or what we schoolgirls called “free day”. It meant I could wear my own dress and not the cheerless uniform we were forced to wear. Mom had bought me a colorful Easter Sunday dress with bright spring colors and designs. It was a special dress too as dad would see me wear it after he got out of the hospital where he was recovering from his first heart attack.

When Mrs Bozwiak told mom that Sister Michalea removed me from class and demanded my mom take me home and change my dress to a more suitable one, mom marched down to the school and gave that nun a piece of her mind. Everybody knows everybody’s business in Gaylord and no doubt, that old nun knew my dad was in the hospital. That was the dealbreaker for mom. After that, Sister Michaela never bothered me. And after I finished the fourth grade, mom put me in Gaylord’s public school.

During the first 3 weeks of our stay most of my time was spent at The Brook. Things were happening way too fast and conversations with attendants and nurses were getting more desperate. Mom and dad traveled with an RV up to the day he passed 30 years ago and after that, mom continued the RV lifestyle on her own. Vivian always said mom was the trailblazer for us to get into RV life. Although mom told stories of strangers helping her while traveling, watching her now relying on them to do the simplest things like getting dressed and using the bathroom was more than I could bear.

Fortunately, sadness was interrupted often by our time spent with family and friends, happy hours with our campground neighbor, and long walks in the woods. Having my two sisters and brother around me was comforting, we were all in this together. Ironically, the Catholic church that pushed me away years ago gave me the ultimate comfort during those final minutes when I sat next to mom’s bed and brought up the Lord’s Prayer and Hail Mary on my phone so I could recite them aloud.

By our final week family matters were wrapped up and everyone was back to a normal routine. My two sisters had gone back home. With the little remaining time we had, Vivian and I made the most of our enjoyment in the north country. It may be a long time before we get back here; after all, we have mountains, deserts and maritime shores to explore. We have our RV life to live. That’s what mom would do.