20 June 1998: Surprise!

Once home from the Bidwell, RRP and MPR assembled a salad for MPR's family picnic on Saturday. After they went to that, they would join us at Uncas. Then I heard RRP and RDC whispering in the kitchen. I immediately assumed I had done something wrong because that's what I do. Why else would they whisper? When RDC returned to the living room, I asked if I had done something wrong. He was obviously evasive and that really upset me, because it was obvious I had offended MPR, which pro'ly isn't difficult, or worse, RRP, and I should be told. Finally he said, "Look, we were just wondering if EJB and KSM could meet us tomorrow but they probably can't, and we didn't want you to be disappointed." That didn't ring true but I let it go. So we went to bed.

Saturday 20 June 1998

Saturday morning fueled my fears of the night before.RRP and MPR were arguing about how they should spend their time that day. RRP wanted to go to Uncas with us and just "pay their respects" to MPR's family picnic but MPR was holding firm. Uncas is in Lyme, the picnic in Wethersfield, and Mason, the German Shepherd puppy they would adopt that afternoon, south again in East Haddam. Particularly as a guest in their house, as someone MPR barely knew, I didn't want to be the cause of all this nonmarital strife and told them so. Then I shut up.

RRP asked for directions to Uncas, which I gave, and then they left, before us, to go to MPR's picnic and then join us; we headed straight for Uncas. RDC kept asking about the directions and whether the forest was signposted, and if I weren't so happy to talk about home cartography, his questions would have annoyed me.

As I pulled into the parking lot, RDC observed, coyly as it turned out, that there were a lot more cars here than there had been the day before. "It's Saturday," I pointed out as I began to pull into a spot; I didn't want him to condemn the lake just because unwashed masses were present. Hey! That blue minivan had a Millstone sticker in the corner, I observed, making the connection. "That's 3SK's car!" Could it really be? AAC had always said that after living here more than 20 years, she knew only one person--me--who went to Uncas. Well, maybe that's because your set belongs to the beach clubs and I'm your babysitter and buy a town pass to WSB? I had retorted. But this was certainly 3SK's car, and I had hardly to confirm the license plate to rejoice that one of the girls had probably finally discovered this idyll with her high school friends and come here for the day. It wouldn't be CKC; she has an internship in Houston this summer. But surely by now RKC had earned her license, so it could be either her or MAC. RDC looked pleased for me, but not very excited, which I decided was reasonable of him.

He agreeably moved a little faster this time, and I didn't need to pee this time, so soon enough we crested the little rise. As I always do, I ignored the picnic tables to the left of the path; anyone who's stupid enough to sit up there rather than next to the water is below my notice. Everyone should be in the water, all the time. This is me at Uncas in 1995, talking to the mother of some classmates:

I did register that there were people, several people, at the tables, but still I was concentrating on the beach to spot the girls. Then a face out of the several resolved itself into my middle child. "MAC!" I cried, dashing forward to seize her. She stood up and embraced me, and now I don't remember if I registered everyone's upward movement then or as we released each other. Perhaps I thought everyone was getting up to protect MAC from this lunatic.

"Surprise!" came the shout from all directions. I began to turn about, not yet recognizing people. They were, after all, out of context. I had never expected to see 3SK, long-time Old Lyme residents, at Uncas, let alone--JUMB? I hugged her too, the light finally dawning. Turning, I saw Gretchen and Heidi and someone who had to be Angel, a table removed from--yes, there were BWJL and BDL. And then, completing the circle, "Michelle?!" because there my cousin stood, with her husband and sons; it was then I began to cry.

I hugged her, and then either finished off the rest of 3SKor finally remembered to hug my mother, still crying. "This is the nicest thing you have ever done in my whole life," which, even off the cuff and reflexively spoken, was entirely true, except that she hadn't even done it: she did immediately give credit where credit was due. "It was mostly your sister's doing," she 'fessed.

There were MWC, her husband Joe, and their sons Brian and Joey; there were 3SK and their Swiss exchange student Jonas; there were JUMB, LEB and Phil; BJWL and BDL; Gretchen, Heidi, and Angel; and RDC. RRP and MPR, despite leaving earlier and my perfect (they said) directions, arrived too late for my entrance, for which they had so long planned.

When they did arrive, not very long after, I, ever the gullible one, asked MPR, "What about your family picnic?" They admitted their subterfuge. I was in awe of their perfectly orchestrated couple fight.

3SK had to leave after an hour or so to tidy up for the Reverend Gerber's daughter's wedding. I didn't get to talk to MAC or RKC for long, but long enough to confirm that MAC is brilliant in her biology program and that RKC is excelling school while being captain of the girls' tennis team and coordinator or something of the boys' baseball team. And that at least one of them wasn't impervious to my non-science influence: a chemical engineer and a biologist and finally a social worker. Not quite liberal arts, but liberal. Except that I think it might be religioiusly based, so I cannot have been any influence. And Jonas has had a great year in the U.S. And MAC and RKC get along; I wonder if they ever didn't. I hope that they, among their threesome, have as cherished a relationship as CLH and I; and I am happy that with three, it might be stronger by half.

AAC told me that although they expected a car horn in the parking lot as an alert sound, they knew it was me as soon as they saw a person skipping over the hill. Who else would it be? Who else indeed.

Later, my sister's friend RML showed up. Over the hill, I saw someone I knew I should recognize, especially when she waved to me. "Who's that?" I asked BJWL. "That's RML." I hadn't seen her in almost four years nor for three years before that. "RML!" I exclaimed, trotting up to her; it wasn't until we hugged that she realized I was Lisa, not CLH, and understood why I didn't recognize her, and knew that she had missed CLH. Not as much as I. I tried to ring CLH, called suddenly to San Francisco, from RRP's cell phone, but even with Uncas but four miles from I-95, the phone couldn't make the connection. Poop.

MWC and her sons played by the water's edge, where I joined them. This was the first time, MWC said, Brian and Joey had ever been in natural water. I tried not to gape. She also commented on how friendly people are here. "I feel like I'm making friends for life here!" Of course, she's from Long Island; I told her how friendly Denver seems in comparison, to RDC and me from Connecticut. I talked to Joe a little bit. He patrols Central Park from midnight to 8:00 A.M. He had had Friday night off, but still, for all four of them to come all that way, to see me? And CLH, too, except not; and of course DEW; but to see me?

When Gretchen, Heidi, and Angel left, BDL and I accompanied them to the parking lot. Perhaps Bob wanted to thank them for dealing. Or perhaps there was monetary compensation coming their way. Gretchen told me then that BWJL had sent BDL to Uncas at 9:00 in the morning, that popular hour for cookouts, to bag tables.

RRP, MPR, RDC, and I were just about to swim when RML showed up, and we did swim, but then I realized I had left her alone, to all extents, with BJWL, so I went up and saved her. We sat on the beach chatting, and we saw the golden retrievers' human of the day before. He and I had introduced ourselves Friday, but I had dismissed him when he was surprised that I had swum from the main beach, as if that were any distance. This was Jeff to whom my family names were familiar but not immediately known when I said them before, but who knew RML immediately. This is the small town element that I miss most. However, I know I would find it confining as well. That's me. Hard to please.

RML evidently had been alone with BJWL long enough. She asked, "Is your mother insane?"
"Yes, of course," I replied matter-of-factly. "You know that." How could this be a surprise to RML? She's known her almost 30 years.
"Yes, but she just asked me if I had ever met Lisa B's husband." Lisa B, who also still lives near Old Lyme? If RML probably didn't know--compared to BJWL's vast social network--her own best friend, she certainly wouldn't know her own best friend's boyfriend-now-husband. This is the Patrick whom BJWL allowed into her house for the farewell party she hosted when CLH moved to Aspen in 1994, allowed despite his not being "a close friend" (since BJWL (with her vast social network) didn't know CLH's friend Michael from high school, he was not invited to said party). I, in retrospect, wonder if BJWL asked RML this in one of her underhanded jabs, as if it had been RML's fault that Lisa hadn't invited CLH to her wedding.
"And then she asked," RML continued, "if I knew that Lisa is pee gee. I wanted to say, you mean, Lisa B, my dearest friend in the whole world, who told me maybe second after her husband that she was pregnant? Yeah, I knew."

Naturally I had to tell RRP and RDC this tidbit of BJWL-insanity. They didn't even know what "p.g." means. "Haven't they ever seen 'Grease'?" asked HAO incredulously when I duly reported the story to her two weeks later.

While I was talking to RML, RDC's aunt and uncle showed up. George realized Uncas had been a favorite fishing spot several years ago and wants to come back. I'm glad Uncas is special to more than just me.

And while I knew my father was coming to CT, I didn't expect him. But indeed and of course, CLH had invited RSH, along with my local aunts and uncles. I was talking to BJWL when I saw him footing it down the path. I flew into his arms.

This is when I was ready to be embarrassed. The great RSH-BDL summit. RDC noticed that BJWL introduced them thus: "RSHie, this is BDL, my husband; BDL, this is RSH." Now, just who did BJWL think that RSH might assume BDL was, other than her husband, with their hands clasped and cupid-y? And I did notice that she called my father by his diminutive but not BDL by his (except that the diminutive is his given name, so maybe the normal name is the nick-?) And if titles and roles were being exchanged, "ex-husband" might be a tactless thing to say, but why not "the girls' father"? Perhaps that implies not-marriage and a state of unwedlock for CLH's and my births?

Anyway, I didn't hear any of that, having distanced myself with a gaping expression of fearful anticipation to RRP. What I did hear was enough to make me cringe, if only slightly. Maybe I don't notice BJWL sucking up to BDL so much because he enjoys her fawning enough such that said fawning doesn't reverberate into the unwilling ears of bystanders. BJWL offered RSH every morsel of food at the place, admonishing him, "Don't be shy" as she listed every single different food item. She did save liquid refreshment for last. "There's birch beer--it's just soda, like root beer." Any alcohol in any quantify remains ungodly and the sole cause of all social ills, you know. RDC and MPR had been careful to bring their own beer, RDC his microbrew and MPR his Bud Lite. Dunno how all that got shared around.

And then two of my aunts arrived. They had gotten lost too, one the mother of a cousin whose favorite place Uncas was. In fact they had parked in the right spot and walked in the right direction, until a parks worker turned them back saying there was no picnic area near. Imbecile. Hmm, tables, outhouses, beach, idyllic lake. No, no picnic area here. I wasn't sure where they went next, perhaps Norwich Pond or the Uncas boat launch. Anyway, they made it.

I was glad that, after probably being offended by my choice of wedding guest list, they chose to come, but perhaps they wanted to see their brother and BWJL's new husband more than they were hurt by my not including them.

I felt so blessed, despite several people's absence; I felt blessed again because CLH had done this for me even after she knew she wouldn't be able to make it.

SEM is spending the summer in Minnesota; TJZ was in Los Angeles for the week; neither RRP nor CLH would know to invite HEBD, I guess, not that she could have afforded to come even after NBM might have given an address (which must be how they invited TJZ); I didn't expect PLT and his family; and NBM was involved with SEM's half-brother's birthday. RDC said he wanted to ask RJH but couldn't get a moment alone with him the day before; and he had gotten ABW & KRW's and JCC & ALN's numbers from me, subtly, after RRP had clued him in to the party, but those invitations arrived too late. JCC and ALN had a wedding to go to, but he never got in touch with ABW and KRW. When he couldn't talk directly to ABW, he worried that if he left a message she might call back and say something untoward on RRP's machine. When she saw him the following Thursday, she abused him for that.

Around 3:30, it was cloudy and rainy enough that the party had fully broken up. BJWL and RDC & I headed to BHR, with BJWL hoping MWC would still be there. I had my doubts, but of course I wanted to see DEW. So off we went. In the driveway it was clear MWC and her family had left, but in the house would be DEW.

And in the house was DEW. Her first words were "Don't squeeze me!" which I think I knew enough not to do but I was sorry her first impulse was fear. So we visited. Then DEW said, "Your friend PLT was just here." It took me a second to grasp that. First, did she remember him? Easier to believe that he had just happened to occur to her than that they had come. Had he actually come to the gathering? Allow me to be most gladly surprised. "Really?" I was pleased. "He doesn't cut his hair." DEWclearly wasn't pleased. Oops.

After her encounter with MWC's five- and three-year-olds, I was pretty sure DEW would be tired, so we only stayed an hour. As we stood in the driveway, about to get into the car, a car drove up, stopping inches away from our knees. The Connecticut instead of Massachusetts plates threw me for a second, but it could only be one person. Only one person would drive like that yet need an hour to navigate from my mother's house to NSF and back.PLT. "Asshole," I muttered under my breath, about the driving at least. But he and STL had come, and brought ZLT. They emerged from the car and STL leaned into the backseat to extricate the baby, whom I most wanted to see. But there was another surprise. "Hello," said PLT warmly, and he hugged me. Ha. So did STL. There's a mistake I'll not make again: though I welcomed the embraces I doubt I'll ever feel comfortable initiating contact. Screw 'em, though, here was ZLT, big-eyed and observant.

We all trooped back into the house. Despite ZLT's father's long hair, I thought DEW would enjoy meeting the baby. Last September when ABW and NKW brought me to the airport after BJWL and BDL's wedding, neither of my grandparents could remember ABW's name but they both remembered NKW. Now I hoped DEW would enjoy ZLT too, who is just beginning to walk and very attached to her parents, tottering determinedly between waist-long brown hair and waist-long blond. In addition to being short, ZLT lacks both spectacles and long hair; how left out she must feel.

In the course of the visit, RDC observed DEW notice that STL doesn't shave her armpits. DEW clearly didn't like that either. Long hair on him, unshorn pits on her, but their attachment to their daughter is eminently admirable.

And she certainly was tired now, so off we all went, RDC and I leading PLT STL and SLT to Storrs. RDC put in Pearl Jam's Ten, which is not, in hindsight, the best music for me to drive to when someone is trying to keep up with me. And STL drove, so when we got up to Willi and they should have veered right for 195 and Charenton, she first got in our 32N lane, despite our fervently gesturing them eastward. I worry for ZLT. PLT complained to JUMB--they did get to Charenton--that the directions were misleading. She scoffed at that.

I haven't gotten the last of the pictures yet--RDC forgot the camera at EJB's, with the last of the sailing and seeing ZLT again in Waltham on the way to Logan. A lot of the Uncas pictures didn't turn out so well.

Some did turn out, like pictures from a cook-out we had later than week:

Doesn't NKW look like the most determined child you've ever seen? Also from that night, NAV (the large fetus at RDC's and my wedding) wound up with his underwear hanging down around one knee. The physics of toddlers. As his mother tried to rearrange his clothes, he realized happily that he was naked and ran shrieking and laughing across the yard, then realized something else: (Nope, just the statue. I might show NAV the picture when he's old enough to be embarrassed by it, but I won't show it to the world first.

And others turned out from Father's Day, when we met RSH at Devil's Hopyard.

This is why I miss Connecticut. The ruddy hue of the water is from the iron in the rocks of the riverbed (Eight Mile River).

And Four Mile River divides Old Lyme from East Lyme. Clearly the European settlers lacked imagination. But perhaps the American Indian names for these rivers sound good to English ears but mean merely "Eight Mile River" and "Four Mile River" in Nehantic, too.