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Letters home: Family reunion in ‘God’s Country’ (part 2)
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Editor’s note: Steve Alden Nelson is a Caledonia native, the son of
the late Margaret and Alden Nelson. He currently lives in Los Angeles,
and works in the entertainment industry. His column “Letters home”
appears periodically in the Argus.
Dude,
When I left off in my last letter, I was four days into a two-week
“rock-n-roll Midwest family tour that included two banner days of
fishing in South Dakota.
So, anyway, on our final night in S.D., our brother Bill, his wife
Cindy, fried us up a mess of fresh walleye with all the fixin’s. As
usual, we ate until we couldn’t stand up, then sat around and laughed
until we couldn’t see straight.
On day five, John drove me back to Viroqua, Wis. My left foot, having
been attacked by deer flies, still looked like an over-inflated bicycle
tire. I hadn’t been at John’s house for more than 10 minutes before our
sister Lisa came to pick me up. She was mildly alarmed at the size of
my foot, and being that she has a background in nursing, her
recommendation that we get to her house in Hillsboro for ibuprofen,
elevation, and an ice pack sounded like a good idea. As it turns out, a
cold beer didn’t hurt either.
I spent the next two nights there, relaxing in the quiet country, while
mentally and physically preparing for the upcoming weekend. On Friday,
Lisa and I stopped by a couple of thrift stores on our way to La
Crosse, where we met up with our nephew Peter. His wife Leslie works in
a dental office that shares a parking lot with Schmitty’s, so we had
time for lunch before Leslie finished her half-day of work and drove me
to Caledonia.
By the time we got to my sister Lizzie’s house around 3 p.m., the
festivities had already started. Within a few hours, all 11 of my
brothers and sisters had arrived. This was the first time in 21 years
that we’d all been in the same place at the same time. (Excuse my
California-speak, but dude, it was awesome!)
When suppertime rolled around we honored a long-standing tradition by
calling Frankie’s and ordering chicken: lots and lots of chicken. After
dinner we moved on to Peter and Leslie’s to shoot pool, play cards, and
continue to make each other laugh until our stomachs ached.
The next morning we met at my sister Susan’s house for coffee before
piling into a convoy of vehicles and heading to the Upper Iowa River
for our annual “sip & dip” canoe trip. We used to canoe the
Kickapoo in Wisconsin, but that was a much longer ride on a far more
challenging river. We’d experienced lots of minor injuries, and major
frustrations. By the end of our last five-plus hour trip on the
Kickapoo, I swear I could hear the theme from “Deliverance” playing in
the distance. But this was a perfect day on a perfect river.
I’ll finish up my two-week stay in “God’s Country” in my next letter.
Much love.
More later. Peace.
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