Happy Father's Day Memory

In a previous post I discussed a little about New Year’s Eve and traditions.  One other tradition involving the holidays is the Christmas newsletter.  Don’t worry; I’m not going to post one here.  Unless you want me to.  No?  You’re sure?  Just check . . . No?  Okay.

This year we went with the New Year’s newsletter.  We made up an excuse for not sending the letter before Christmas; something about another letter being a lot of “white noise,” but the truth is we (mostly me) were lazy.  In the newsletter, I mentioned my Dad and brother, Mike, coming to Minnesota for Father’s Day.

 

They flew into Minneapolis on the Thursday before Father’s Day.  I arrived early at Terminal 2, hoping to wait outside in the car as the former Lindberg Terminal is pretty lax when it comes to idling cars.  You will be waved off after a while, but if you time it right, you can wait for a good 15-20 minutes.  Unfortunately, the terminal was being renovated and the loading/unloading zone was blocked off, so I had to park.  Fortunately, the flight was late, so I got my money’s worth in parking.

After several laps around the Ticketing and Baggage Claim areas, making sure I didn’t miss them, I saw Dad and Mike exiting the Gate area.  It’s been about three years since I’ve seen my Dad, and I worried I wouldn’t recognize him.  My Dad lives in Connecticut and my brother in Boston, so schedules and finances have prevented us from having frequent get-togethers.  We do stay in touch with phone calls and emails every few weeks, but those become insufficient over long periods.

 

I needn’t have worried though, as my brother is about my height, which is taller than average, and I had a clear view of him; and my Dad looks like me, but with less hair and about the same amount of weight stuffed into a five inch shorter frame.  We exchanged familial handshakes and pleasantries (the flight was good), and Dad told of some drama when checking in at Logan.  In the flurry of activity to take the train to Boston to meet my brother, he had forgotten to bring his identification and didn’t realize until he was at the counter.

“You should have taken advantage of your age and started to shake and tell them you were confused,” I joked.

“He did!  His hands were trembling and he looked bewildered,” my brother revealed.

I felt bad then and decided not to pursue it further.  Dad had to go through extra security until TSA confirmed he wasn’t a threat.  Later, we learned his ID was left in his checkbook on a table at home and he had it FedEx to him for Saturday delivery.  We walked to the car and drove home.

At the house, The Wifey and I made a couple ground rules.  1.) No looking in closets.  We are as lazy at chores as we are at holiday preparations and use our closets as holding cells for clutter.  2.) Check the contents of the containers in the fridge before using.  What might say ‘cottage cheese’ may actually hold leftover pulled pork, the sight of which could be horrifying.  How long do you have to keep cottage cheese to have it look like THAT?!  Once the rules were established, we were ready to celebrate the long weekend.

The fridge was stocked, not only with a collection of Pandora’s boxes of food, but also Leinenkugel’s Summer Shandy and Fulton Beer, a Minneapolis micro-brewery.  We each had a beer while we chatted and I provided a nickel tour of the house.  It wasn’t too long before we decided to go to bed and get an early start the next day.  Dad was put up in G-Bug’s room and Mike sacked out on the couch.

Friday morning, we had a nice breakfast at home.  The Wifey made egg bake and bacon with muffins, fruit, and juice.  The scene was convivial, not just for the company, but also for our absurdly small dining room table.  Since it was dark when my Dad and brother arrived, we took a tour of both of the Twin Cities.  It is true Minneapolis is west of the Mississippi River while St. Paul is on the east side.  However, when coming from the south, the river takes a huge left turn at St. Paul and makes an S-curve over a 10 mile stretch before heading north through Minneapolis.  I believe Dad and Mike envisioned the cities being directly opposite each other.

We toured downtown St. Paul and crossed the Wabasha Street Bridge to check out Harriet Island.  We were coming back into St. Paul over the Robert Street Bridge when Dad asked if that was Minneapolis.  When I told him Minneapolis was another 10 miles west, he questioned the veracity of the claim of being “Twin Cities.”  Since St. Paul is the Danny DeVito to Arnold Schwarzenegger’s Minneapolis, we were soon on our way west to tour that metropolis.

We followed the River Road to the U of M campus and drove by TCF Stadium, where the Golden Gophers play football; at least their best approximation of football.  Dad is a big Nebraska fan and with the school’s recent move to the Big 10, I thought he would get a kick out of it.  We toured the campus then stopped by Riverplace for lunch at Tugg’s Tavern.  This is a great place to have lunch in the warmer months as it has a deck with views of downtown and the river.  After lunch, we walked by a section of river in the Xcel Energy Park and looked at the falls by the Lock and Dam across the way.  We finished the driving tour with a circuit around Target Field and the Warehouse District.

Back at home, Dad and Mike watched golf on television while the Wifey and I took a nap to recharge for our evening.  We were having dinner and taking in a show at the Acme Comedy Club.  We had a great meal washed down with scotch and Jack-diets, drinker’s choice.  We were sitting close to a very loud, obnoxious group.  We would later learn one of them would be competing in a three-person open mic contest to open the show.  She was the last contestant and her mic was mercifully cut off after two minutes when it was obvious she was telling inside jokes only her group understood.  The main acts got steadily better as the night wore on and we left feeling suitably entertained.  Mike had a yen for visiting a hookah bar we saw near Macalester College, but it was after midnight by that time and the place was closed.

Saturday morning we had breakfast at our favorite greasy spoon, the Uptowner, but not before Mike introduced us to the Redneck Mimosa, beer and orange juice.  This complimented the natural citrus flavor of the Summer Shandy, but I don’t know if a more hoppy beer, like Fulton, would have been as pleasant.

 

The weather was rainy at breakfast, but had let up by the time we were done and the sun started to shine.  The Twins were playing the Brewers in an afternoon Interleague tilt, and we decided to go.  We were able to get tickets in the second to last row in the left field bleachers.  We spent some time at our seats, but the sun was intense and the air humid with the morning rain.  Mostly we cruised around the mezzanine level, checking out the shops and concessions.  The Brewers won in a rout and Ryan Braun went deep twice (that’s what she said!).

 

Mike bought a bucket of State Fair mini-donuts as we were making our way out of the stadium.  Once outside, we happened to follow a young woman who was heading to the same parking ramp as we were.  I was leading our group and kept a respectable distance as we walked through the skyway.  Once at the ramp, it seemed the brunette would get into an elevator and out of our lives until I saw Mike speedwalk passed me and onto the elevator.  The rest of us followed.  An awkward silence filled the car as we headed to our respective levels.  Just before the woman reached her stop, Mike brought his A game.

 

“Wanna donut,” he asked, extending the bucket towards her.  She politely refused and left.

A few weeks prior to the trip, Mike had watched an episode of “Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives” and the show featured a Minneapolis pizza joint called Pizzeria Lola.  The game ended in the late afternoon, so in between, the Wifey and I lay down (hosting is exhausting!) while Dad and Mike watched more golf, made calls, or read.  Dinner was fantastic.  Each of us ordered a small pizza and we sampled from all four.  There were no bad choices, but I think the Hawaiian one I ordered was my favorite.

Sunday was the main event.  I picked up G-Bug from her mother and brought her back home as we prepped for our Father’s Day festivities.  We drove to Stillwater for a brunch cruise on the St. Croix River.  On the way, Mike and G-Bug played an “identify the logo” game on her iPod.
 

The cruise was on a large paddleboat that traveled a few miles south on the river before heading back.  We saw a lot of pleasure boats, but the day was grey again, so it wasn’t as busy as I’ve seen it before.  Brunch was a buffet style and we queued for food after having a couple beers topside.  I was complimented on my Father’s Day T-shirt, which read “Stud Muffin” – the muffin being represented pictorially.  About 90 minutes later, we returned to port.  Our debarking from the boat was delayed with a few elderly people who got preferential treatment.  Why they needed to be let off first is a mystery.

Stillwater, MN is an old logging town which has been transformed into a very trendy, antiquing destination.  We did a little wandering of the city along the riverfront and bought some ice cream at the corner parlor.  We wrapped up the excursion with a side trip to Wisconsin, which was on the other side of the river.  I figured this would give Dad and Mike something to talk about when they got back East.

When we returned home, we broke out the Yahtzee and played a few rounds.  We snacked on leftover pizza and other items until dinner.  The Wifey had purchased a number of thick steaks to grill on the Thermos I built the summer before.  She whipped up a bunch of sides as well, and once the meat was fully cooked (which took a bit of time) we had a wonderful dinner at home.  After our meal, Dad adopted a tone of importance and I thought he was going to break some bad news.  Instead, he pulled out a couple watches and gave one each to me and my brother.  These were our grandfather’s Hamilton pocket watches.
 

Grandpap had passed away soon after I moved to Minnesota in 1995.  Since I share my name with my Dad and grandfather, I got the monogrammed watch.  I did some research on Hamilton watches and found price ranges from a couple hundred to a couple thousand dollars.  I still need to bring it to a repair shop, but will also get it appraised, just to see if its value goes beyond sentimentality.

 

We ended the night playing the 80’s version of Trivial Pursuit.  I kept G-Bug on my team to help me with some of the answers.  We were able to get three pieces of the pie pretty quickly and the Wifey was amazed with my 80’s trivial knowledge.

“This is what happens when you spend your childhood in front of the TV,” Dad quipped.

Lead by example, Dad. Lead by example.

Monday was our last full day of the visit.  The sporadic rainfall and grey weather during the weekend had burned off and the sun was beating down, which lead to dangerously hot and humid conditions; perfect for a round of mini-golf.  There are a couple indoor mini-golf places in Minnesota, including the Mall of America, but we decided to go to an outdoor one in Richfield.  I think we had a coupon or Groupon or something.  The course was in desperate need of repair and the near 100 degree temps did not help my mood.  At one point, I almost literally teed off a shot which went out of bounds and under a fence.  I got a replacement and finished the round.  In celebration of surviving, we all got root beer floats.

Due to the oppressive heat, we felt indoor activities would be more appropriate, so we headed to the Mall of America to catch a movie.  What trip to Minnesota would be complete without heading to MOA?  We selected ‘The Avengers’ although G-Bug had already seen it, but she said it was good enough to see again.  We had some time to kill, so we had lunch at Hooters.  I was a little concerned about what kind of example I was setting for G-Bug, but none of the men in the group did much ogling or objectifying, so net/net, I think we came out okay.

The movie was as good as advertised.  I returned G-Bug to her mom after a lengthy round of hugs and goodbyes.  The rest of us wrapped up the night and the trip watching ‘Young Frankenstein’ on DVD.  I can’t remember the last time all of us watched an old Mel Brooks or Woody Allen movie, but it was something we used to do when we were kids.  The movie is still a classic and I think we all enjoyed Gene Wilder’s steadily increasing annoyance and shouting the most.  We went to sleep soon after as an early morning with a trip to the airport awaited us.  We packed a lot in four days, but it was the company that made it the best.