Returning Home

MARK HAYTER        hayter.mark@gmail.com 

                                                           

                      

Hayter article for October 23, 2021

“In the air again”

            DENVER, COLORADO – I knew if I lived long enough something like this would happen to me. I’m sitting in a line of attached, low-back, vinyl chairs in Terminal C of the Denver International Airport, also referred to as DEN, DIA, and KDEN. At the risk of insulting your intelligence, KDEN is the airport’s ICAO code.

            Earlier today Kay and I flew from Spokane, WA to Denver. Now we have a three-hour layover before heading to Houston International Airport, also referred to as IAH, BIAH, KIAH, and LMNOP. They call ‘em “layovers” to make you think they’ve got beds and TV remotes on hand for you. A more accurate name would be Sit ‘n Waits.

Kay is somewhere in a long line formed outside a Women’s Restroom. There’s a line outside the Men’s room, too, but it moves faster. Women put up with a lot of stuff. Have you noticed that?

            While I await Kay’s return, I’ll tell you about the final days of our Washington trip. Last week we were in Sandpoint, Idaho. Remember? Deep lake, nice cabin, beautiful foliage, lots of ducks, hot tub, no moose, and no snow. I was hoping for snow. It’s probably happening now, but that does me about as much good as the dental floss in my backpack.

            I was hoping we’d get to see the Grand Coulee Dam and maybe take a tour to the very bowels of the thing, but the place was closed. The dam is still operational, they just won’t let us come in. So, no dam trip. Which begs the question, whatever happened to Randy Quaid?

Perhaps the dam tour was canceled due to COVID, or a clogged P-trap, or a “Save the Moose” protest; each one is a valid concern, but how many more chances will I have to tour the Grand Coulee Dam? I’ve half a mind to “come unglued!” -- As I’ve mentioned a few times, that’s what my Dad did several times. While I never witnessed such an occurrence, he sure told some good tales about comin’ unglued.

            When Susan, the Colonel, Curt, Rhonda, Kay, and I returned from the Spud State*, we headed west to the Cascades. My niece Sandy and her husband own a cabin by a stream. I’d give you directions, but Sandy’s husband, Beau, would find me, and he would pull a Liam Neeson on me. You don’t mess with angry Liam.

Beau and Sandy’s cabin is the stuff of dreams. And, I tell you, the stream in the back of their house is moving! If I were to step off of the bank and try to walk on some of the stones, I’d slip and my legs would freeze before my rear met the nearest boulder. The rapids were created from melted snow just above the treeline. And, get this, there are fish in the water. After, the cabin trip, I did a little research about the crazy life of salmon and quickly realized I’d rather be a horned toad than a salmon or trout. The DNA of salmon must possess the most stubborn and impractical genes of any animal. They’re born in a mountain stream. From there they go downstream to the ocean, stay there for a few years, and then go back to the stream they came from so they can make new baby salmon before dying.

            Three nights ago Rhonda and Curt’s church had its Fall Festival over at Bill’s Berry Farm. Running a berry farm has got to be among the most labor-intensive jobs in the world, next to a men’s room cleaning crew. Bill and his wife and family make fruit and berry donuts, jellies, jams, and juices from every fruit in the valley -- berries, cherries, grapes, apples, peaches, pears… They also invent structures for children to play in and on. Even children like me. At the Fall Festival, there were also slides for sliding down, hay bails for climbing up, a corn maze to wander through, wieners to roast, marshmallows to toast, and smores to make. Not an easy job, smores making.

Practically every night is movie night at the Basement Theatre in Curt and Rhonda’s house. Curt and I watched “Support You Local Sheriff” with the kiddos. It was my fourth viewing, but hopefully not my last. It was the only Kid’s night viewing I attended. A couple of nights ago we watched “Knight and Day” (Tom Cruise and Cameron Diaz) and “Princess Bride” (Among my top 10 movies.) Movie night is good, not merely because of the movies, but the craziness during the picture. I’m in a family of crazy people. Thus, making “movie night” a time of movie viewing, crazy acting relatives, and pizza! Does it get any better? 

The movie we watched last night was the movie made from the Broadway play, “Dear Evan Hansen”. That movie put a quash on crazy. Without question, it had a wonderful message, but one wrought with sadness. And, like each of our movie night flicks, I recommend it. --  Wait a minute! I spy Kay walking amongst the masses. Keep the noise down and she won’t know you’re here. 

“Hi, sweety, how was your outing? What? Sure, I’ll hold your backpack. My wallet? Okay. Nothing for me.” The girl is headed for a croissant-sandwich shop. Do you know how much an airport sandwich costs? Call it a croissant sandwich and it costs even more. They taste wonky, too. – On the flight from Spokane, Kay read a Kindle book titled “The Wonky Donkey”.  Everything with her has been “wonky” ever since.

Oops, times up. Before I leave let me reference the “*” symbol after the “Spud State”. Idaho is actually the “Gem State.”  I didn’t see a gem or a baked tater while in Idaho. I think I’ll call it “The Moose State”, because I didn’t see one of those either. – Next time.

end