Stranded in Paradise

Where My Father Speaks to Me

Traveling to the top of The Mitten (that’s Michigan for those who are not familiar with the nickname) in mid-October is lauded as the best time to see autumn’s splendor. The drive itself, north on I-75, is a scenic route through pines, birches and maples all the way up. Our trip “up north” this season displayed some pops of light peeping through mostly green. Seems the warm fall this year delayed the leaves changing, so we seemed to have missed the optimal time. But our group didn’t care since we stayed at a little spot in Paradise—right on the lake. The children with us all said they “never want to leave this place.”

From one day to the next, the trees changed clothes and did a little fashion show across the lake. Fall styles were glorious, and for more views, we took off on a leisurely drive through “The Tunnel of Trees”—a famous tourist attraction that is best inhaled through open windows. Stopped for an espresso brewed in a tiny log cabin-turned coffee shop.

The weekend boosted all our immune systems and cleared our heads of city build-up. Couldn’t have gone more smoothly.

Until it was time to head home. Getting a slew of children (really only four) and four adults all fed and packed up for the trek south is no easy task, but I would say we could brag about our accomplishment. Everyone helped, including the little ones who learned how to properly dress a fancy bed or fold and hang pretty towels. I even had a 3-year-old Windexing the windows, and then they were off, leaving just two of us to finish up and follow shortly behind.

That’s where the glitch occurred. Our car battery fizzled out and left us sitting in the car as it began to rain.

I can’t help but be thrown back to the year my father’s appendix ruptured and the poison coursed through his body infecting virtually every organ, causing an extended stay at the rehabilitation center adjacent to The University of Michigan’s hospital. The incident occurred in July, but we were still traveling daily to Ann Arbor to see my dad well into the fall.

We liked to take the back roads that wound through a little forest glistening red, gold, burnt orange. The sun made frequent friendly visits that autumn, reminding us that it was my dad’s favorite time of year.

It was a beautiful time of restoration, and we felt peace as my dad slowly healed, learning to walk again after severe muscle atrophy from his long stay. After the suffering of the initial injury passed, my dad became funny again, quick one-liners uttered at unexpected times—phrases we still borrow today. He was gentle and sometimes introspective too. I already hinted at his spiritual awakening in other writing, but I must say that the joy and peace we experienced at that time is simply immeasurable.  

Even so, his weakened heart stopped him in his tracks, and we had to let go of our dreams for his return home, which, in fact, was supposed to be just two days later when that heart attack took him.

Still, the fall activates that peaceful feeling in me, for my dad is close by every time I enjoy the colorful leaves dancing with the crisp air.

Here I was thinking of his heart and laughing at my comparison to our car battery needing resuscitation. Probably some sort of mixed metaphor here because the consequences of each are quite different. One not so dire, of course. Not a matter of life or death (except for the battery),  but I think my dad was laughing with me, letting me “go there.”

My husband climbed a hill looking for a neighbor to jump our car battery so we could make our way home on this Sunday afternoon. He came back with someone, both men getting drenched from the sudden downpour. Hooked up to cables, I tried several times, but the engine would not turn over. Still, we sat, wheels turning in our heads about what to do with our car. We didn’t want to leave it up north and find another way home, but could we rearrange the week’s schedule and stay longer? Not convenient. A frustrating change of plans, yes, but we kept our cool.

The battery just seemed to need more juice, so-to-speak. At least we hoped that’s all it was and not some major engine issue that would take more time to solve.

I kept thinking—not a bad place to be stranded, despite the rain. The kids who had already left were a little envious that we were stuck at the lake.

Within a few hours, we found someone with a powerful jump system and were finally able to leave.

The drive home just before dark featured the full color change that must have happened over night. We did not miss nature’s display after all, nor did I miss inhaling that peaceful breeze where my dad speaks to me.

[Lately, I have been writing about my dad quite often. I think because I am working on publishing a book, the process is awakening the memories. Both his life & his death affected me profoundly.]