THE INITIAL STEPS — FIND THE LAND

I should have entered this a while ago and kept a running tally.  Now, however, it is based on my notes, memory and reflection on both.  It may not be accurate, but reflects my current reality.  As always current reality reflects back on the past and highlights the best and/or worst skipping over the mundane. 

After a family reunion in the Flathead Lake area, the wife and I discussed the possibility of this being a place we might consider for a summer vacation home and, eventually, summer retirement home.  It should be noted, that although one of us grew up in Montana, it was clear we did not have the intention of spending winters in Montana — we enjoy the winter warmth of the South.  It is surprising how quick the body can adjust to an environment without severe cold.  The reverse also holds true for the severe heat and humidity of the south – – adjustment is not very quick.

The discussion and decision was not easy.  Since we like to travel, did it make sense to invest in a summer place — the time and money could be spent on several nice trips exploring the world.  There is so much we haven’t seen!

Unfortunately, we were at least a decade late in our search.  It seems the “rich and famous” also known as Californians have decided this is the next in place.  The Montanan’s want there money, but not there resulting high prices.  But life goes on – with each benefit there must invariably be some pain.

  The following summer saw us visiting family in Montana.  We took the three hour trip to Flathead Lake and started the process of looking for a place in Flathead Lake.  We found a realtor, who works with buyers only, and started the process.  She was very patient with us during the process.  The first summer saw us visiting several homes and sites, but nothing really caught our interest.  Some were interesting, but not what we wanted.  On the other hand, I’m not sure we knew, then or now, what we wanted.

The second visit was the following summer.  Our daughter came with us because we promised a trip to Glacier Park.  She was patient the first day as we visited several places and property.  This process was, however, quite boring for a 20 something and the second day she stayed at the quaint B&B.  The host found her a place for a massage and later quite time at the lake and river.  She was quite mellow after that.

On the second visit, we again visited several homes and sites.  When we saw the site we eventually purchased, we fell in love with the view (see link).  There was still some discussion about the cost and whether we really wanted to build a summer place in Montana.

That night our daughter joined us for an excellent meal at a little French restaurant in Bigfork; a real find in the wilds of Montana and probably established as a result of the influx of the rich and famous.

We then went and explored the beauty of Glacier Park — TRULY, A WONDERFUL CREATION.  Even the daughter thought that putting up with the boring aspects of the search was worth the trip.  In addition she just hoped we would decide on something so she could spend summer vacations in this beautiful part of Montana.

We then make a bid and after several rounds of negotiations on price, access to creek, water rights and all that other unpleasant issues, we committed and purchased the land.

Then the real fun begun — we have a site, now what do we do with it?!

WAITED TOO LONG

The day my dad flew off to Montana, I thought he was just going to help my grandpa move from his apartment to the new nursing home. He would call us and talk about the family, the friends and how everyone was doing great. I would wonder what everyone was like as I hadn’t seen them for a while. I would especially wonder about my grandpa and think to myself, this summer, this summer. Everything seemed like it would be perfect soon. That was all about to change.

I hadn’t been to Montana for nearly five years. We used to go every summer, until all of my overnight summer camps would be right when we planned to go. So the rest of my family would end up going and seeing everyone, including my grandpa. I remained an obscurity to all of them, more so because they would almost always see my little sister Maddy. Even though we were family, we didn’t really know each other.

While I was a mystery to them, they (my family extended family and grandpa especially) were a mystery to me. I remember his eyes the best. One was a deep icy blue and sightless, glassy and glazed at the same time. The other eye was a cerulean blue, and looked as old and wise as a tree. I also remember his apartment that smelled like old sweaters and memories. He had an old recliner that was a faded pickle green, across from an old television screen always playing football with the occasional static reception. There was a rusty old playground outside the apartment, a slide, a groaning merry go round, rocking horses, and squeaking swings. Whenever we would visit, I would run outside and play for hours, and half the time I was by myself, too shy and awkward to go and talk to anyone. As a result I never got to know my grandpa. I always assumed that when I was a little older, things would be less awkward and then I could and would make a flawless effort to get to know him, and unfortunately I never got that chance.

In mid-January gramps had to have gallbladder surgery, this was a few months after he went to the nursing home. We were all as scared as cornered mice, confronted with a cat, wondering if he would make it or not. He made the choice to do the surgery hoping it would reduce some pain and help him feel more free and happy. My dad flew out to Butte to be with him during the surgery and the recovery. Luckily, he made it through the surgery ok and felt like a freshly lit fire, and better than he had in years, so he told my dad who told us. Everyone was ecstatic, and as my grandpa had had very little to eat leading up to the surgery he ate like a horse for the next couple of days after the surgery. Everyone was having a blast, relieving our tensions and releasing our anxiety. We were all sure he would be around for at least five more years. I had promised myself by that time that no matter what, I would go to Montana that summer to see everyone.

About a week after the surgery we got a call from dad. He told us that during the night gramps had aspirated (thrown up and then choked on his own vomit.) He had also failed to press the emergency help button that would call a nurse to help him. His nurse found him that morning and called my dad who rushed to the nursing home, and sped him along roads as icy as Antarctica to the hospital. His lungs were full of vomit, and he was immediately admitted to the ER. For the next few days, he was unconscious, his heart rate and breathing irregular and nobody knew what was going to happen. I asked my dad, to tell him to hang on that I had to see him. My dad never left his father’s hospital room. One night he woke up and talked a little, said things along the lines of goodbye. That he was ready, that his hourglass had been running out of sand for 87 or so years. The next morning he died, and I never got to see him.

That February, was the funeral, and my first time back to Montana in five years. It was hard seeing all of the “Jessica’s” and “look how big you’ve gotten” when I knew gramps was gone. He’s gone, those words never really sunk in until I went to Butte. The funeral was confusing, especially when I was trying to organize my emotions. All of my cousins sat on the first pew, on the left. All twenty of us, and we cried together and used Kleenexes to mop up our oceans. I always used to cry about everything. I would weep when other people were weeping or when I was hurt or anything insignificant, but at the funeral I couldn’t shed a tear unless I actually concentrated and tried to cry. I felt so guilty because I couldn’t show any sadness that he was gone. Maybe it was because I knew he loved my grandma Helen more than life itself and he had been missing her for thirteen years. He was ready to see her again, and to be free. I’ve never been religious but it’s like I knew he was watching us. In the middle of the service, someone’s cell phone chimed and I thought how rude! Later I found out it was my Aunt Jo’s phone. The call had been from my Grandpa’s phone that we all knew wouldn’t be ringing ever again. It was like he had been watching over us. Not using that grizzly bear voice or wheezing a cough, but smiling, like a boat returned to the sea.

By Granddaughter Jessica

END OF WINTER

The Spring began in September 1920 as a Lebanese immigrant family welcomed their son into the world.  Although sadness and joy were all part of this life, it was filled with a love of life and family.  Still in Spring he lost his mother just before his 9th birthday.  He then weathered the depression and like most young men of his generation “the greatest generation” joined Uncle Sam in defending his country.  He delivered marines in a small boat (LST) to all of the major battles in the Pacific.  Although he did not speak much about this time, it was clear the horror of the death and destruction he saw would shape his views on war forever.  During this time he lost his father.

After the war he came home opened a grocery store to follow in his father’s footsteps, but soon abandoned this effort as the big chain grocery stores of that era entered town.  As he later said, he saw the handwriting on the wall when he could get the supplies for his store cheaper from the big chain than his distributor.  He then went to work for an auto parts store and spent 45 years helping that business develop.

At about the same time he met the love of his life and they spent 49 years together until she died.  They raised a family of six children, who learned the meaning of both discipline and love.  Mom only had love, but dad showed both.  Summer and fall came and his kids spread their wings and he could relax and enjoy them and the grandkids  He was also proud of all his kids and their accomplishments as well as those of his 16 grand kids and 3 great grand kids.  He had great love for all his family and their friends.  Nobody was a stranger in his house.  He expected guests to share his hospitality with him — many showed up after already having eaten, only to have him feed and water them again.

In the winter of life both him and his wife had their medical problems, but they persevered.  Luckily his were physical and only slowed his movements; he was still sharp and coherent until the end of winter.  Although, he only had a high school education, he was well read and could carry on a discussion on many topics including business, politics and sports with the most educated.  Thus, by example, showing that education does not stop with formal schooling, but is a life long endeavor.

Monetarily he was not a rich man, indeed some would say his wealth was below average, none the less he was among the super rich when it came to the love and friendship he shared with his family and friends.   All that knew him will miss him.  I’m sure this world is a better place because of him.  He taught us the importance of honesty, hard work, love of live and especially love of family. 

The end of winter and the time to say good-by came in January 2007.

Another year has passed.  Life moves on.  Spent day enjoying time with wife.  Had a nice lunch, then edited pictures and set up printer.  Later we  attend a soccer game.  Life moves on, still waiting to see how flathead project is going to proceed.