This year things seemed to be nicely timed.

 

So many delightful episodes occur just after our afternoon swim, which always makes us full of vigor and ready for anything, as well as cleaned up sufficiently to meet any situation with enthusiasm.

 

Gramps arrived from Rockford directly after our afternoon swim. Merrily, due to her post-swim interest in Cokes, was getting one for herself in the back porch. Knowing Merrily, I can understand why she heard the car before she saw it – everything but her ears was focused on selecting a bottle which might seem to hold a scratch more than the others. This involves standing on tiptoe and looking long and carefully at each bottle, tipped toward the sun.

 

But her ears caught the motor’s hum and on seeing the big black car, Merrily started the shouts of “Grandpa! Grandpa!” which soon were spreading to the other voices. Margie, Al and Nancy took up the theme and by the time Grandpa had pulled to a stop by the porch, the woods were (full of) shouting, too.

 

Gran was tearing around the car, bright-eyed, and Margot and I made haste to pull on some jeans and slap on our lipstick. We ran out, probably shouting too, although we couldn’t hear ourselves, and took our turns pulling Gramps around and kissing him.

 

He was still hot from the heat of Rockford and had that look of escape you feel when you first arrive. We swarmed all over him and over the car, seeing the fruit and potatoes and melons and candy he had brought. With long-practiced dispatch, we set about unloading him. In no time, everything was out of the hot car and into the kitchen.

 

“Did you bring meat? Where is the butter, Alfred?”

 

“I wantsa candy. Is the candy all for me, Grandpa? I wantsa candy, please.”

 

“Mommy, the candy isn’t all for her, is it?”

 

“I wantsa candy!” “Couldn’t you get any butter?”

 

“Why, darling, of course we need butter. No butter for weeks!”

 

“Not even oleo in Wisconsin, Dad. No bacon, either, at all.”

 

“No meat at all, not for weeks. We eat Spam.”

 

“We eat macaroni.”

 

“We did get some bologna – we were certainly lucky about that bologna!”

 

“At Joe’s, we got it. Joe doesn’t have butter, though.”

 

“Joe doesn’t have bacon at all.”

 

“The Palace promised us...”

 

“You can’t split your orders. They know when you split your orders. They know when you shop around and they don’t give you meat.”

 

“We don’t know what meat tastes like! We have marvelous meals, though. Sometimes we eat out.”

 

“Sometimes we eat chicken.”

 

“We eat.”

 

We had to prove it. After all, it was almost five o’clock. We settled Gran and Grandpa on the porch, Margie on Grandpa’s lap, and set about getting our stuff for sandwiches, including brick cheese and the treasured bologna.We made a drink for everyone and then adjourned to the porch to catch up on the Rockford gossip.

 

Grandpa, having just escaped, was more interested in Squirrel Lake gossip, and the result was a sort of crossfire of questions and half-answers. Jean was fine, so were the boys and Ronnie. The boat had been lost and found. Golf was pretty good, it was hot in Rockford, it was cold here, we swam twice a day, everything was wonderful. We saw deer in the clearing, the hotel maids did not clean the apartment for Grandpa as well and Grandma did, we had plenty of wood, we got up at seven or so, the children were having a wonderful time, we were having a wonderful time, the rain was terrific, the mosquitoes were terrific, there was a bat in the closet. There were probably a great many bats in the closets. No, it was just one and he was surely caught, for he only fluttered now whereas preciously he had battled hard. Is Mattison’s house about ready? No, people are slow doing the work. The kids caught, cleaned and ate their own fish. And Margie ate one too.

 

The drinks were finished and the kitchen snack in order too. We filled up the kitchen and directly two quarts of milk, one loaf of bread, a ring of bologna, a half pound of brick cheese, a head of lettuce and a dish of Mother’s applesauce disappeared. Talk and laughter covered its vanishing.

 

Nancy sidled up to Grampa and whispered. They disappeared into the sunset, down the path to the boathouse. Grampa must see the deer tonight. We tidied up the kitchen and put the younger fry to bed. Everyone settled down at once, tired after the excitement.

 

We went down to the living room, where the afterglow of the sunset was flowing in through the windows softly, shining from the lake beyond and making it alive with color, darkness closing in gently from the woods around us. Up the path came the returning silhouettes of Grampa and Nancy.

 

“See any deer?”

 

“Yep,”

 

“Bedtime, Nancy.”

 

“Okay.”

 

A trek down the long hall, a climb up the dark stairs, the last chick in bed. I returned to the living room. Everyone was chewing candy. A few sticks of wood were burning in the fireplace. Gramps was getting out the bridge table.

 

He had arrived.