My Lobster Lake Education

Lovely day today. Not too hot, not too windy, sun is shining, and we got alot done. We had two scheduled showings today, and I cleaned the house like nobody's business, even laying out the hand towels next to the sink like they are laid out at a hotel. Hell, I should have put some chocolates on our pillows, but, then, the only way that would be effective is if our potential buyers were interested in sleeping here! So, anyway, I cleaned the hell out of the place, Sam mowed and trimmed the yard, and, I got nothin.

I am not going to be discouraged, at least not yet. I look at the other houses in my neighborhood with 'For Sale' signs still planted firmly in their front yards.

We have a family member who is ailing and will need to realize that they need to be move to assisted living. After lying on his livingroom floor for 30 hours, yelling for help (he lives in a duplex), someone finally heard him. He was sent by ambulance to the hospital, and now the fun begins convincing him that assisted living is a safer place for him.

I gotta talk about this family member. He's my uncle and I love him. I credit him for my love of movies and all things related to art. In the summers when we would make our trek up to grandpa and grandma's, we would fish every, single day. My grandparents lived on a lake, Lobster Lake, and as far as we were concerned, that was Paradise. I can't describe how beautiful it was up there, but, everything, from the smell of grandma's freshed baked bread, to the smell of the cows in the barn, to the sound of the milking machines in the barn, the tire swing over the lake... for a kid it was the perfect place to spend summers.

One of the best parts for me, especially as I got older, was waiting for everyone to toddle off to bed. Then, Uncle Rolfe would motion for us to go down to the basement where the big freezer was and we would make the biggest dishes of Schwan's ice cream we could get into a bowl. Then, back upstairs, and we would watch whatever was on television. Regardless of the movie, Rolfe knew a story behind it. And, with ice cream in hand, the cool breeze coming in off the lake cooling off the livingroom, we would talk. I spent more time listening, but, I have to admit that Rolfe would ask me stuff. He treated me like I had something to say, that my opinion mattered. I wasn't an annoying 13 year old niece. I mattered. I thought that was really something.

Rolfe told me all about various directors, writers, cinematographers. And, I credit him for helping me love to write. I began writing to him when I was in jr. high and he would always write back. And, the letters suggested that he actually read my letters and he would respond accordingly. I developed a bit of a crush on him, I have to admit. He could do no wrong. j

He lived in Minneapolis, and we would always begin our vacation at his apartment. He lived in a small apartment, and had a tiny galley-type kitchen. But, my god, could he cook! I watched him cook and was amazed. And, oh, it was amazing stuff. I remember having hollandaise sauce for the first time there, and I think, but don't quote me on this, that we once had caviar there.... remember, I was just a kid then...

Once he surprised my sister Sarah and I with tickets to the opera! He said it was important for everyone to be familiar with the arts. So, we got on our cleanest jeans (we didn't know we were going to be going to the opera during vacation) and he dropped us off in front of the Guthrie Theater. Gulp. Sarah and I went in and were mesmerized. When we returned, Rolfe peppered us with questions about what we thought of this and that.... we just felt so grown up.

When we'd be at 'the farm' as it is called in our family, and we were running out of enthusiasm for fishing, Rolfe would announce at dinner, 'Ok, tonight we go to Alexandria and we'll go to the drive in' Oh, that was so fun. I remember watching some movie with Don Knotts, I think it was 'The Ghost and Mrs. Muir' and seeing Uncle Rolfe laugh, made me laugh even harder. He would buy us all sorts of crap to each, popcorn, pop, candybars, anything. And, we just had the greatest time.

So, today, when I heard he had fallen again in his apartment, and had waited there for help, for 30 hours, I felt especially awful. I wanted to drive up there, and help him, clean his dirty apartment, help him get cleaned up, and get him some help.

I know I can't do that. He has people caring for him, but he is resisting help. Rolfe cared for my grandparents for the last twenty years of their lives.... doing everything he could for them... it just seems like we should be doing the same for him, if we could.

I can see in dad's face that he's sad about it. This is his kid brother, but dad is far healthier than Rolfe is.

I suppose what I can do is to write Rolfe a long letter, and remind him how much I loved him and how important he's been to me, and continues to be.

Getting Old..... Sucks.