Northwoods Family

I think the Dalai Lama is right that we put undue pressure on one person or group to fulfill all our needs. For Westerners that is usually the romantic partner. In other cultures it can be religion, government or the family. My father is one of those scary smart types. He doesn’t just listen to opera, he investigates the composers, reads their biographies, studies their musical strategy. One brief glance at Napoleon’s Wikipedia page won’t remotely satisfy. I know the names of Napoleon’s generals because of his relentless acquisition of knowledge. Who really needs this information? I was exposed to several schools of thought, pursued the beauty of the natural world in tandem with college football on fall Saturdays. All of it with a side of art. Dad’s a painter. He’s always painted. I grew up with the smell of linseed oil mingled with a meatloaf baking in the oven. (Does anyone make meatloaf any more? Are you cheese or tomato sauce?) The New York years tattooed creativity and an expansive perspective on my life. I’d rather be wide than narrow. Also means my conversational resources have to be wide. It’s not as easy as you’d think to work Mortier’s and Berthier’s names into conversation, but I’m prepared should the opportunity arise.

Despite the well intended but off point suggestion I make “art” for a local shop, causing a mental oy, there is a thread of creativity that runs through my Northwoods family from jewelry making, sewing and interior design to a general appreciation/support of the arts. I understand that abstract work can be particularly challenging. There isn’t a subject to grab on to. No loons in my paintings. Yet there are. Their nocturnal haunting call is in the marks because they are in my soul. So is my family. We love the smell of the sweet fern and admire a Bald Eagle’s grace and fishing prowess. Get a kick out of Merganser parents teaching their young to dive. We are collectively soothed by the calm of the lake at dusk. As much as we are different we are that much alike. They are my heritage. Their presence in my blood is obvious the minute you meet any one of them. Quick with a good story and a belly laugh, told at several decibels accompanied by animated hand gestures for emphasis. We bitch and squabble, but if someone is in trouble, help is on the way. No hesitation. We love a party. The bigger the better. Everyone is invited. Hell yes. My Star Lake family can get a quizzical look on their face or simply glaze over at some directions I take. I don’t follow prescriptions. A few of us don’t. Shit, there’s too many of us not to have spawned a couple deviants. Whether we fan the Maize and Blue or not, the love is true. Isn’t that the definition of love? Different, but so what. Man, it’s hot this week. I’m gonna go jump in the lake. They will be right behind me.