Monday

Monday is like Saturday for me. I rise slowly, drink coffee, and go slow. That was my experience in room 507 in Homewood Suites by Hilton, Lansing, Michigan. I made coffee in the Cuisant pod coffee maker, two cups (one for each pod), and soon, I was writing fast and furious.

Life’s essential moments sometimes become just a few hours here and there, and everything else is noise–though it sounds trite, it is how I find the world. I have no answers but to treasure what I have. I cannot extend those moments like the song (here); I would treasure them in a bottle and then use them with loved ones. But you cannot do that, and I will try to keep the tears back and savor my memories.

I was running late, as one would expect, as I would write 1400+ words Monday morning. I showered and dressed but skipped shaving. I also had a privacy card on my door, and the staff would not visit the room. The coffee, gasp, was not refilled (making this morning, Tuesday, harder). I got downstairs in time for breakfast.

There, I chatted with the cook about life in Oregon and how race issues are better in Oregon but nowhere as good as they should be. I told her that, as an older white guy, I thought we would be better in the USA by now. Though my coffee was industrial and tried to drift me toward corporate thinking, I still dreamed of a time when the love of Justice, Compassion, and Community ruled our passions in the USA. It often seems like a fading vision, but small strides do happen. I have hope and found Hope still in my coffee this morning. Sorry if that sounds political, but it was what we talked about.

With spicy hash (obviously, the cook wanted some excellent besides the usual hotel bland) and the rest of the typical industrial scrambled eggs, potatoes, and coffee I consume at a hotel, I sat and wrote the blog in the lobby area where breakfast is created and served (included in my stay).

Deborah and I also talked on the phone a few times when she was traveling to work, something we seldom can do in the morning when I am in a three-hour time difference. I continued to write, read emails, read some news, and update my transactions in Quicken; I ensured that banks and credit card transactions were all ones I recognized. I was done about 11. I returned to my room, read for a while, shaved, and was out to travel to my 1 o’clock lunch with Leta.

Panera Bread was the agreed-upon location and one of Leta’s favorite places. I arrived early, but soon, Leta appeared. We spent about ninety minutes catching up and just talking. It was a happy moment with many smiles. There is always a sad moment between Leta and me (and Barb and me) when we acknowledge how much we miss Susie and being together. There were no tears today, but maybe damp eyes. Still, it was good, and soon, like many good things, it was over. Leta invited me to lunch with the Lutheran Ladies on Tuesday (they adopted Leta). Maybe.

I returned to my kitchen office in room 507 and did a Zoom call after reviewing updates for the church meeting. The blog is not the place for this, but I followed the meeting with an hour swim in the pool. I needed to work off some emotions.

The pool is warm, but not hot. There is no hot tub. My swimming skills are mostly forgotten, but I was able to do some strokes looking more frog than anything useful. My legs surprised me with cramps, meaning I had used them more than maybe I realized (or I was really stressed by the meeting). I could swim out of the issues (more water-walking than swimming), and the water was not more than 5 1/4 deep, which was never over my mouth, so I was not at any risk. I was alone, and the lights kept turning off (in the water, you are at the same temperature as the water, and the motion detectors can’t ‘see’ you). I would get out of the pool, and then the lights would pop back on. Later, I found a timer.

I risked some underwater swimming (my eyes still burn some this Tuesday morning) and was relieved that I could once again hold my breath and swim the pool length (with pushing off the wall) underwater. Previous attempts a few years ago had me suddenly reaching the air and panicking. I am back to my old abilities and could improve them with more swimming. A relief.

With more underwater swimming, I noticed that my balance problem, caused by the loss of the left ear balance and hearing structures (from the impacts of a brain tumor and its removal), now manifests in the pool, but differently than one would expect. I swim in long arcs instead of straight lines. I had my eyes open under the water and saw the side of the pool appear when I was expecting the steps to start. I soon experimented and found that I was safe with my blurry underwater sight, but I would need to know if I drift to the right or left now. A new thing to share with the doctors. I will have to look and correct underwater. Something excitingly new to do and try!

I washed off at the pool and then in my room. I redressed and headed back to Lansing Mall and the Zap Zone, which has a bowling, small go-cart, and gaming area. I arrived early, and an ill-omened fire truck, paramedics, and ambulance appeared. They completed their challenges, and Linda and Mom Wild appeared. Jesse and Meg were already inside waiting.

We squeezed into a booth and had dinner of wings flavored with various levels of spiciness and fried potato products. I kept trying to slip one of the buffalo-flavored wings (meaning hot Buffalo NY-style and not the animal) into Linda’s sweat BBQ wings, but I was caught each time.

We then wandered the gaming offering, and Linda, Meg, and Jesse made various offerings for the games. Jesse won a high score in a traffic game (which is no surprise as he is a Traffic Analyst for the State of Michigan). Skee ball was popular with our small group, with Linda smoking everyone. Mom Wild even played. I watched as I was tired, had more calls about the church meeting and more emails, and was distracted. Meg played many games, and Jesse found a few favorites, too. Linda played with Jesse in a Jurassic Park game, blasting away at T-Rex and other horrors from the movie.

Tears followed as we broke up, as Mom Wild realized this was goodbye again. We will meet again next month unless events occur (weather or otherwise). Mom did not want to let me go, and I understood. Mom, tears flowing, gets in the car and heads home with Linda.

There have been so many goodbyes on this trip. On trips like this, the price of ‘hello’ is ‘goodbye.’ It never feels like a good exchange at goodbye, but it is—there is no bottle, like in the song, to save up and make it longer. But the price of ‘hello’ has always been reasonable as I get the memories of friends, lovers, and family. I can savor them until the next ‘hello.’

I write this on my last full day in Michigan.

It is dark and rainy, and I have some difficulty knowing where I am in Air Ford (Edge), but Apple Maps on ApplePlay works, and soon, I am safe in room 507. I finish the night texting, talking on the phone, and reading. As typical, I sleep and wake thinking it is a different time, see it is still f**king in the middle of the night, prove hydration, and then crawl back into the warm covers and wonder if I can sleep and do sleep before the thought is complete.

Thanks for reading!