Das Super-Volk

Wow. We went on a trip a few weekends ago to visit with some friends who were in from Calgary. We normally visit them in North Bay, but regrettably they have moved. (Much to my lovely wife's chagrin ... no more "not-picked-over-GAP".) They were staying at their grandparent cottage near Minden and their grandparents (who have known my wife for like ... FOREVER) graciously agreed to have us join them.

The drive there on Friday night was pleasant ... through the back-country of the "near-north" along rural road 28 amongst others. The roads were nearly deserted, except for a few crazy locals near Bancroft who thought that it was appropriate to pass at 130 in an 80 zone on a blind turn in the dark. We arrived at the cottage around 11 PM and everyone except Andrew had gone to bed. He showed us to our room in the back.

The cottage itself was very neat, cozy and had that familiar feeling that all Ontario summer places seem to have. The accumulation of decades of family trips ... piles of magazines and books from the 60's, 70's and 80's, family photos and 70's furniture all neatly arranged. The cottage looked a little worn, but much loved ... kinda like that old paper back copy of the Lord of the Rings that you read when you were a kid. Out back (or maybe its the front?) was a the proverbial dock with the proverbial canoes and motor boat. This was all lit by the soft yellow glow from the spot lights on the deck. I was to find out later that the kitchen used to be a screen porch ... and that originally the cottage only had two rooms to sleep the parents and their six kids.

Our room was smallish but comfortable. I took one look at the double bed ... and then glanced at my wife. My angelic two-year old was sleeping fitfully in her arms. (I don't know if you have ever noticed this, but two-year old boys have this serene look when they are sleeping that never makes an appearance during their figidty waking hours.) I knew that there was no way that both my wife and I could sleep with Captain "Kick-and-Punch". So I opted for the couch. She will never admit it, but she covets those slow morning wake-ups. I think that it brings her back to when he was an infant and I would leave the two of them in a state of semi-consciousness snuggling in bed.

At 5:30 I heard a little gurling sound ... and awoke, face to face, with the cutest little girl. Robin sat laughing as her daughter stared me down. In a groggy haze we made coffee and started the game of catch-up that always ensues when you get together with old friends. Eventually Andrew and River (their 4 year old) woke up and Robin decided she need some more rest.

Then the most amazing thing occurred. This little old women walked out of the corner bedroom, said good morning, and disappeared out the door down the stairs to the dock. She hopped in the water and vanished for the next hour. I was amazed ... she had to be close to 80. Was this the mythical grandmother that I was told about?

"Andrew ... where is she going?"

"She'd going to swim to the point and back."

"Really?"

"Yeah ... should take her about an hour."

We went down to the dock to wait for her return. I have to admit that I was a little nervous ... she's almost 80. Andrew assured me that she would be fine. Sure enough she arrived back safe and sound. In fact she barely seemed phased at all -- not even out of breath. (You should note that I am impressed when someone can tread water for more than 2 minutes.)

We all clambered back up the stairs . We were greeted with a, "Good morning Mrs X, you're looking lovely this morning", from Andrew's Grandfather. I think that it was about this time that I started to realize what kind of folk that I was dealing with here. Wholesome. Athletic. Driven. Loving. Das Super-Volk.

I can honestly say that Grandma and Grandpa are honest-to-goodness role models. In fact, I desperately want to model myself after them. There is just something ... their healthy lifestyle, their obvious affection for each, their intelligence ... that makes them special. When you are with them you feel like your in the middle of some 1930's propaganda film. Or maybe in a "Leave it to Beaver" episode. But not in a bad way. They truly made me feel welcome and included in the family.

To give you an example: At one point Vonnie-Lee and I had decided that we wanted to take a canoe ride. With both stood onshore looking at the canoe and trying to decide the best way to take it off the rack and put it in the water. Grandpa came running ... "Hold-on, I'll do that for you." We stood back. And watched him take the canoe off the rack by himself. And put it on his head. And carry it to the water. Where he gently laid it in. WOW.

Or another example: The neighbors at the cottage next to us had fired off some fireworks for the kids, but all the dogs within hearing distance had run for the hills (except one of the smarter dogs who locked himself in the bathroom). Literally run for the hills. The neighbors terrier did not come back. Grandma was sick with worry. She spent the next two hours searching the bushes and trails looking for this little white dog. By midnight, the dog still had not shown up. Her last words before settling in for the night was ... "Poor little thing. I hope they find it." Too sweet. You just want to crush her in a monster bear hug. CRUSH CRUSH CRUSH. When the dog did finally come home they called her (about 12:30) on the bat-phone (you know the one with the loud bells).

Anyway ... long story short ... I love them, they inspire me ... they have what I want to have when I am their age: a full and active life, lots of love and a great family. And as we said our good-byes, Grandma punched me in the stomach ... and said, "Have a safe drive home." So I gave her a monster bear hug and CRUSHED her ...