Who are the biggest influences in your life?
I met him on the stairs
in the hall.
I hadn’t seen him in forever,
wizened man, twinkling blue eyes.
He held his arms out
for a hug;
as always,
nothing could make life any better
than that moment.
He told me he ventured out to visit
his other family,
whom I had heard of
but didn’t know.
I watched him
Out the door, into the cold.
Only then, I remembered
we had buried him
years before.
Today I’m sitting in the one coffeehouse in Ottawa IL that is not corporate, Jeremiah Joe’s. It’s housed in a former department store building, so it’s a large space with tables and comfortable chairs scattered throughout. My spot is a little drafty, located close to the large display windows. I’ve put on my coat.
I remember Famous Department Store, whose name is still outlined in the entrance to the building. We didn’t shop here a lot while I was growing up, preferring the less expensive Sears and Montgomery Ward’s, and often the deep-discount Bel-Mill (pronounced ‘Bel-Mell’) in Marseilles (pronounced ‘Mar-Sales’). There’s my obligatory useless reminiscence, which I feel is part of my reward for living 61 years.
I’m drinking an excellent latte, which tastes of an espresso blend with some real character. It’s cloudy enough outside that I’m wondering if we’ll get snow. The forecast says no. Ah, well, no white Christmas for us, but there’s Christmas music on the sound system and lots of decorations throughout Ottawa.
In a perfect world, there would be a university here, and I would be teaching at it. I would live somewhere in Ottawa, where I would be close enough to Chicago to occasionally pick up a play or concert. It is not a perfect world, however, and I work at a university in a town that could a little rejuvenation and some more quirk. We certainly don’t have ‘Feminists Against Fascism’ in Maryville MO. Or an independent bookstore, an indie coffeehouse or the jewel of the state park system. (To be fair, Maryville MO has a Starbucks in the university library, which makes it exceptional for both Starbucks and university libraries. Maryville also has a city-maintained park which features cabins, fishing, and a hotel.)
Maybe Ottawa would not be as cozy to me if I lived here. Maybe it wouldn’t feel like Christmas here if it were something I experienced daily. Maybe the lack of Trump signs here lulls me into a false sense of security. But people are hugging in the cafe, and the baubles hanging from light poles downtown add a needed festivity, and Wal-Mart is not the center of the community.
Let me soak up a bit more of the atmosphere and find myself window-shopping downtown. I need to store it up to last me a year or so.
We made it to Utica/Ottawa/Starved Rock Illinois, and we are settled in for the next couple days. The cabin is the same one we’ve stayed in previous years, with a fireplace and a cozy atmosphere. The bathroom is a bit chilly to remind the occupants that this is absolutely a cabin.
Before we checked in, we wandered over to Ottawa to check out The Cheese Shop. It is actually a decent cheese shop and deli, and the lunch special was that specialty of LaSalle County — pork tenderloin sandwiches. The tenderloins here are thin and tender and crispy and bigger than the buns — all one wants in a pork tenderloin sandwich. Ottawa is decked nicely, and there’s a Kristkindl (sp?) market near the river that I wished I had time to wander. It will probably be gone by the time we get back Monday.
I am in the Great Hall at the lodge proper right now. There are massive wood tables and low couches in a rustic style that have to be over 50 years old, probably older. I’ve seem lots of hugs; families are gathering for Christmas.
This is the fireplace in the Great Hall. It is actually two-sided, but the other side is blocked off for a wedding or something.
There’s a little gift shop just off the lobby. It’s an eclectic blend of souvenirs, jewelry, t-shirts, and outfits for women of all ages certain age who shop. Not me, though; I’m pretty casual (and cheap). There are some flannel shirts I covet on one display rack and what looks like a big leather backpack which I really covet (but can’t afford). Ok, false alarm — the backpack is not leather.
There’s a young girl in flannel pajamas with her father who’s wearing his flannel pants as well, and a gingerbread house contest spread along a couple tables. I think the replica of the hotel wing of the lodge (Made by the Maintenance Department) wins, with the chalet in second place.
I’m supposed to write a romance novel about this place. I wish I had the guts to ask to tour the kitchen, because it’s part of the story. I do know, however, what commercial kitchens look like and how they operate, because I spent my college years in them as a prep cook and my thirties volunteering as a head cook for a soup kitchen.
I have discovered that there is a paucity of outlets in the Great Lodge and the cabin, but there are (or at least were) a bevy of writing desks somewhere on second floor of the hotel section that probably have outlets. I’m going to have to give up my scenic view before long because my iPad is down to 36 35% battery.
Maybe some more typing (I might actually write some of the story) and then a dip in the hot tub and a nap or enjoying the fireplace in the cabin. It’s going to be a relaxing Sunday for sure.
I am currently at the Hotel Millwright in Amana, Iowa enjoying a bit of history and some excellent root beer.
The Amanas were a religious community who lived self-sufficiently for over 100 years through farming and crafts and factory production. They disbanded their communal experiment in 1932. Their main trade now is tourism, as they have much of the old infrastructure still.
The Hotel Millwright is at one of the old woolen mills. There’s a lot of history represented with old looms, pyramids of thread spools, and sewing machines throughout. There’s floors are polished concrete and exposed ductwork gives it a hint of industrial feel while still being welcoming.
The restaurant on site, the Tavern, serves upscale burgers and imaginative entrees. I had cinnamon bread French toast and it was divine. I can’t recommend this place enough.
I have a few favorite automobiles — in fact, every car I’ve ever driven (with the exception of rental cars) has been my favorite.
My first car was a gently used Saturn SC-2 in plum. I loved its fiberglass body and its look. It drove well, and it had excellent gas mileage. It got totalled by an airport limo when I was struggling on a snowy overpass. (Note: I didn’t learn how to drive until I was 32, and I didn’t have parents putting limits on my meanderings, so I drove 5 hours away into a snowstorm.)
My second car was a 1994 Honda Civic hatchback in red. That was a darling car. I bought it gently used and drove it for 13 years until the engine blew its head gasket twice. This is a young demise for a Honda, but a student from a mechanic family told me it was a weakness of the 94s.
Third and fourth cars were Honda Fits, which I am still certain are the best compact vehicles ever, even though they were discontinued in the US. With their adorable looks, their flexible space, and good mileage, they’re everything to want in a small car. The white 2007 is no longer with us, but we still have the 2009 red one. I think red is the best color for a Honda Fit.
Our newest (used) car is a Honda HR-V. Not the biggest of the SUVs, it’s like driving a tall Fit. It’s in that serene blue that you saw in SUVs around 2019. Very comfortable to travel in. More padding on the seats than a Fit.
So it seems that I make excellent choices in cars if I like every one of them!
We’re on our way to Christmas vacation tomorrow!
I’ve spoken of this before — I’ll be going to Starved Rock State Park in Illinois, to spend five days in a cabin celebrating the season. The holiday comes with nearby Utica (‘North Utica’ according to the maps) and Ottawa, towns that have managed to not be too touristy despite their existence as a day trip out of Chicago. I often call Ottawa a great campus town without the campus.
The park (as you can see here) is scenic in the winter, with frozen waterfalls and canyons throughout. Hiking is a little hazardous without good boots, however, because sandstone bluffs are bad to fall off of.
The area has a good Christmas feel. The downtowns don’t have a lot of missing businesses, the streets are decked with lights, and last time we were there there were ice sculptures melting on each corner. They might have snow when we arrive there Saturday.
Ottawa is a great place to eat. Among our favorites are Lone Buffalo (a brewpub), B.A.S.H. (Upscale casual fusion — the name stands for Burger and Sushi House), and Sunfield Restaurant (breakfast). There’s also an indie coffeehouse called Jeremiah Joe’s. There should be more, but there are not.
One place we’re going to discover while we’re in Ottawa is the Cheese Shop. Yes, that is its name. It is, not surprisingly, a cheese shop and deli. I encountered it many years ago on a hike on the Illinois-Michigan canal path. I dropped off the path and ended up right at the Cheese Shop. But it’s hard to find, tucked over in obscure Ottawa side streets. I haven’t been there in, say, 20 years but it’s still there. They might have the famous Polancic tenderloin sandwiches (a local delicacy) for lunch.
There’s also decent window shopping in Ottawa and Utica. I’m not much of a shopper, but I love window shopping. There’s a decent bookstore in Ottawa; a winery in Utica, various little shops.
We’re going to visit my sister and her husband while we’re there. Not a lot, because my sister is more of an introvert than I am.
It should be a busy few days, but I expect some time in the cabin to watch the fire in the fireplace, or in the Great Hall to enjoy a bigger fire and people-watching. Hopefully some time to write, as my next Kringle adventure will take place there.
Happy holidays!
I would love a perfect spot for reading and writing. My space is not so perfect, being a corner of the living room, where I have a sofa laptop holder pulled up to a loveseat that rocks and reclines. It’s not the most comfortable, because I have to kind of hold myself in place while writing.
The ideal space would allow both reading and writing, and a sense of cozy privacy without being too small. The furniture would be a lot like the living room is set up now — a large recliner couch to read on with my feet up, and a loveseat that doesn’t rock set up with the lap desk. It wouldn’t need bookshelves, because I read exclusively on my phone. But the room would need to have a stereo and decent speakers for background music.
It would need a hot water dispenser for tea and coffee. I would make the coffee in a French press or maybe a Chemex. I would like a small refrigerator for cold drinks to complete the refreshment area.
To be honest, this is an awful lot like my living room, except for the clutter and the problem with the loveseat. Maybe I’m in the perfect place after all.
Is this all I’m supposed to do? According to the prompt, yes. Have a nice day.
In the living room this morning:
Me (to husband): I love you!
Husband: I love you too!
Me: I love you more.
Him: I love you lots. Is there more than that?
Me: I love you gazillions!
Him: I can't count that big.
Me: It's bigger than ten.
Him: Oh, that's a lot!
I really wanted the author fair to go better. But the weather was abysmal, and we only had about fifteen people come through. None of them wanted to read Christmas romances or serious fantasy romance, so I didn’t sell a single book. As I have been fretting lately as to whether I should be trying to market my books in the first place, I felt this was my message from the universe telling me to quit.
Then I got this urge to go to Starbucks with my husband afterwards, rather than going home to cry (I really did feel bad). There, I ran into one of the other authors, who had not sold any books either. We commiserated with each other and talked about what we knew was true about being an indie writer — the difficulties in finding venues to sell, the role of luck in getting recognized, and the need to just keep trying.
My husband and I went to Raku for ramen after that and ran into a young woman with whom I had a wild conversation the other day, about lots of subjects including writing as a way to get your feelings in order. She thanked me profusely for getting her back into writing.
So I think messages from the universe are present. As a Friend (Quaker), I have learned to listen for them. I don’t know what to credit them to — “The Universe” seems to have the least baggage attached to it. But I’m listening.
Words Like Me 