Always on the Sunny Side

In Tomohawk, WI, on Clear Lake, in front of Chickadee Cabin, at sunset on August 19 Suzanna experienced the most cliche moment of her life. Any poetic suggestion of twenty foot shadows, sand-and-brick firepits, dogs named Chief, or wicker tinder pails might jump the literary guardrail and plummet into the campy chasm of Christian fiction.

But of course it's all true. We saw Joe and Susie (along with Roger, Judy, Karen, George, and Granma Urban) at the Urban family cabin this weekend. Vegas bookies maintain that this will be our last holiday without a child for more than two decades.



Fortunately for the well read, Joe/Susie/Karen/George railed against the usual. What do ribs, Paul Newman's Italian Dressing, grilled eggplant, and dirty rice have in common? I ate em. Settlers of Cataan, rowboats with mismatched and uneven oars, Ben's First Sudoku, decapitated water lilys, crispy pancakes with real maple syrup, 3 pages listing all of the emergency rooms between Madison and Tomohawk, and upside down missing waterskis tugged on the knotted rope of creativity and moved the red hankerchief of tired allusion over the finish line.

What else would you expect from the Urbans but a dazzling country holiday?