My Miracle Year: A Circular World

(Above: Riff Raff, me, Bodhi, Hassan & Buster in Deadwood) On the way to the reunion I laughingly said the high point of the trip for me would be the reunion; for my brother Steve, Deadwood (a raucous and illegal -- it was on Indian land -- frontier town if ever there was one); and for my husband, getting on the plane in Minneapolis to fly home.

In the end, for both Steve and me, the reunion in Swanville, MN, (near Long Prairie) capped all. And my husband bemusedly enjoyed the reunion also; as an only child with 3-4 cousins he’s never met (and at this time has no interest in pursuing), this was his first exposure to relatives mingling, talking and laughing together. It helped that a couple of my girl cousin’s husbands, having married into the family in the past few years, didn’t know anyone either – and they and my husband are all about the same age.

(To the right: Melba, Ruth, Rachel & June) Besides Melba (daughter of my Grandpa Husom’s sister Anna), I met three other first cousins of my mom. Ruth, Rachel and June, daughters of my Grandpa Husom’s brother, Arthur. All three, who are very close, worked in academia and state government and never married; they are still healthy and now happily retired.

It was my fifth cousin David Husom, the photographer I met Googling the name “Husom,” who first told me about them (but wasn’t sure exactly how we were related) and said I should get in touch. Although invited, David couldn’t attend the reunion as he was to be vacationing in Canada that week, traveling through Long Prairie to get there. It’s a circular world.

My Miracle Year: German Internment

(To the left: Anna, Clarence [my grandfather] and Rena) Surrealistic trip fragments keep permeating my dreams. I look at maps, I wonder where the heck I am, worry about finding food and lodging, are the dogs OK, where’s Steve…

In my waking moments, I’m savoring new family bits and pieces I picked up.

I knew my ‘Great Aunt Rena,’ had given my parents my baby book when I was born and I’d heard a couple of wild tales about her from my dad – that she was an Episcopalian minister and spent some years in a German concentration camp.

What I learned at the reunion was that she was in Europe as a Lutheran ‘Augustana Synod’ missionary when the war broke out. We don’t know her circumstances during the first part of the war but for the last years, she was interned in Liebenau, a woman’s camp for “enemy nationals.” About Liebenau, Wikipedia says:

“A camp in Liebenau, close to Meckenbeuren in Württemberg, on Lake Constance was opened in 1940 and operated until 1945. It was situated in a castle and four adjacent buildings. Originally it had been a mental hospital run by nuns. By orders of Hitler, about 700 of the patients were exterminated with injections, to provide room for internees.

The first internees were about 300 British citizens from Poland. More British were brought in 1941 from Belgium, Greece, Netherlands and other countries. The food rations were augmented with Red Cross packages. The guards were old German soldiers veterans of World War I and treated the internees well, as several of them had been prisoners of war in British camps and had been treated well.”

Conditions were, of course, infinitely better than in the concentration camps whose main purpose was to work to death/exterminate inmates; but still, I’m sure it was no picnic. Food was scarce (but infinitely better, thanks to the Red Cross), the waiting and not knowing interminable.

(To the right: Larvik, Norway) Rena Husom, who never married, passed away peacefully in Larvik, Norway, in 1969. The municipality of Larvik (containing the town of Larvik) stretches from the Brunlanes coast in the south to the border with Lardal in the north, original home of the Husoms.

It makes me feel good that my mother was loved by such a person.

My Miracle Year: Marvelous Melba

(To the left: Melba & her son Paul) It’s a late Monday afternoon, the day after the reunion and Steve and I are in Worthington, MN, on our way to Melba’s for supper, looking for her farm in the midst of a myriad of country roads with 4-way intersections.

Finally at the end of a dirt dead-end road, we find a complex of buildings – homes, barns and sheds amidst acres and acres of land. Stopping the car, Steve gets out and tentatively knocks on the door of a house and Melba comes to the door. We’ve found her.

(To the right: Melba & me) Weeks before the reunion, I’d gone through my mother’s photo albums. Familiar as I was with the contents, there were people I’d never been able to identify in several photos - a man, woman and child. Visiting cousin Sandy in Sioux Falls, she, our cousin Shirley and I went through more pics and found the same trio. This time on the back we found written “Melba.” Who’s Melba?” we asked each other.

Midway through the Sunday reunion, I find a lovely smiling petite white-haired women standing in front of me. She has a nametag that says “Melba.” “Melba!" I yell, "Who are you?”

I learn Melba is my mother’s first cousin, her mother was my Grandpa Husom’s sister, Anna. It never occurred to me that my mother had cousins – that’s how little I knew about her family. Melba’s not only my mother’s first cousin, they graduated from high school together.

(To the right: my mother & Melba, high school graduation) She shares a story: during their senior year, she, my mother and another girl rented a room from someone in Long Prairie, from January through March, so they could more easily get to school during the snowiest months. Sharing one double bed, each week they rotated who would get the coveted middle space. That’s the most personal story I’ve ever heard about my mother. Uff da!

What a wonderful gift I've received in meeting Melba!

My Miracle Year: Reunion Trip Stats

I'm beginning to recover from adrenalin and sleep deficit, enough at least right now to post some trip stats...

Departure date/time: 9am, August 17, 2009

Arrival home date/time: 4:30pm, August 29, 2009

Miles driven: 4,815

States visited: (6) CA, NV, UT, WY, SD & MN

# of dogs on trip: (3) RiffRaff, Buster & Bodhi

# of times they got a potty/walk break: (?) can't count that high

Cheapest lodging: Winnemucca, NV

Most expensive gas: Winnemucca, NV

# of lbs. lost on trip (Elle): 6

# of days we had 3 meals: 0

Most awesome sight: Mount Rushmore, SD

Highest elevation reached: 8,559 ft (Cody to Yellowstone)

Most interesting person met (outside of reunion): Sonja Holy Eagle, Rapid City, SD

First rude driver/honker: Truckee, CA on the way home

Highest temperature: 107 around Vacaville, CA on way home

Lowest temperature: 44 going into Yellowstone National Park

National parks/historic sites visited: Ft. Laramie, Yellowstone, Grand Teton, Devil's Tower, Jewel Cave, Badlands, Mount Rushmore

Favorite historical site (Elle): Oregon Trail remains in Wyoming

Favorite historical site (Steve): Deadwood, SD

Favorite animal observed: one particular buffalo in Yellowstone who definitely walked to the sound of his own drummer, traffic jams be damned

My Miracle Year: Wide Open Spaces

(To the left: wide-open Wyoming skies) After the busy-ness of California and its crowded highways, we're traveling the vast open distances of Nevada, Utah and Wyoming.

As we make our way over each stretch of elevation, the view before us is wide open, all the way to the horizon. Climbing, then openness, climbing, then openness; sometimes it feels like we do the same section of highway over and over and over again. What does change are the patterns and density of the clouds. It all makes us think of Gus & Call, in Larry McMurtry's "Lonesome Dove," running their herds over prairie and through rivers, under a thousand miles of the same skies, from Texas to Montana. The Dixie Chicks' album, "Wide Open Spaces" is playing.

(To the right: the pack [not seen: the photo-grapher, Steve]) The dogs are patient, ready to be out when we gas up, happily sniffing, everything new. They only need two things: food and for the pack -- the six of us, three dogs and three humans -- to be together. We try to model their behavior: really, what else is important?

Cheyenne skies are black as we coast in, looking for an overnight den. It looks like a good summer thunderstorm could be unleashed any minute. Which we think would be pretty cool.

My Miracle Year: The Family Grows

(To the left: son-in-law,Tom; daughter, Selima; husband, Hassan; son, Jason; me and Jason's then girlfriend, Danae, at Lake Tahoe, Hyatt Regency's floating bar) A couple of days after I’m back from visiting Sandy, my step-daughter Selima calls me and asks me how my trip went. I’m momentarily puzzled: how would she know about the visit? We hadn’t talked about it. Surprise -- I learn she’s been following me on Twitter as well as reading the blog.

As we talk, a kernel of an idea pops into my head. Selima reminds me so much of Sandy. They both have the same wonderful qualities. They should meet.

(To the right: from left, Buster, Riff Raff & Bodhi) Selima, comes from a very small family. Her mom (now deceased) and dad were both only children, as is her husband. She has one brother, Jason, my stepson. The most 'people person' I know, she could use more family! I think I may have the perfectone for her: the one I’m going to be getting to know at the upcoming family reunion.

I think that maybe Spring Break, 2010, would be a great time for a shared visit…

And now we’re off on our 4,000 mile adventure: My husband, Hassan; my brother, Steve; me and our three dogs – Riff Raff, Buster and Bodhi.

To be continued...

My Miracle Year: A Window in Your Heart

(To the left: my dad & mom in a snowy Minnesota) Uff da, again! When it rains, it pours! The day after I got back from Sioux Falls, I got a packet in the mail from my seldom heard from cousin Becky,* who lives in Michigan (and who will be more in touch after reading this :-).

Becky’s mom and dad were seriously into photography (they had their own dark room, very mysterious to me as a child). She had sent me photos of my mom and dad and a couple of my brother and me soon after my mother’s death that I had never seen before.

(To the right: Grandma Schlinsog holding Steve, Becky & me) It was to Becky’s home (her mother was my dad’s youngest sister) in Washington State, that we fled after my mother’s death. My dad’s mother, Grandma Schlinsog, came with to take care of me and the new baby, Steve. Not very happy times. My aunts told me that for months after my mother’s death I kept asking, “Where’s my mommy?” I wonder if anyone ever told me? I think not.

For those who lose parents at a young age, there’s a black hole that never completely heals, is never made entirely whole. Paul Simon, in his song “Graceland” summed it up perfectly:

"And she said losing love

Is like a window in your heart,

Everybody sees you're blown apart,

Everybody sees the wind blow."

Quite a few years ago, I bought a book called "Motherless Daughters: A Legacy of Loss" by Hope Edelman. It sat on a shelf for a long time. I picked it up from time to time, opening it randomly, then I'd put it back on the shelf. Finally, last year I donated it to a library, still unread. Perhaps someone else will get more use of it than did I. Still can't go there...

*Out of my maternal grandmother’s six children, five had girls within eight months of each other; Bonnie (June), me (October), DeVona (November), Becky (January) and Kathy (February). A great example of the American diaspora, we now live in, respectively, Hawaii, California, Minnesota, Michigan and Washington State.

To be continued...