We Cross the Border

Sunday April 14th. Innerkip, Ontario.

We’re back in Canada; Feels good, and strange, and certainly based on the weather about two weeks too soon. Maybe we turned north too early as I discovered when Lorraine looked at the calendar when we arrived at her dads and said “This is only the 14th? It’s not Easter yet? Why did we come home so soon?” I have mentioned that keeping track of the day of the week and day of the month is a little tough sometimes when you’re travelling. But seriously, we are both tired and ready to get home. Even the dogs are a little tired I think and anxious to be home.

Spring isn’t far behind us— less than a week or two, I think, until the buds are breaking even in Round Lake Centre. Just a couple of warm days is all they need; today wasn’t one of those days. We awoke to rain and sleet banging off the trailer in the ex-urbs west of Toledo. The weather radar showed ice, freezing rain and snow to the north of us all the way around the corner of Lake Erie and on north and east to Woodstock, Ontario. We procrastinated a little on getting out thus allowing the worst of the storm to get ahead of us. The need for coffee eventually forced us in to see Cliff and Sandy who seemed both sad and happy that we’d be going... Ya gotta love house guests, cause you’re always relieved when they depart; I hope we’re good guests, certainly we had a good visit with them. We’re looking forward to finishing the other antique stores in Blissfield again some time in the future and the drive to Toledo is probably worthwhile just to visit the Beirut. We also didn’t get to spend enough time with Pete – next trip.

It was pouring rain, cold sleety rain, as we finished getting the trailer ready to push on. I am very glad that Cliff and I had hooked up the trailer the night before — this would have been very unpleasant to do that morning; We’ve been gone long enough I don’t know where my gloves are so I was bare handed. Mercifully, the weather kept a lot of traffic off the roads until late in the day. We turned the corner of Lake Erie in good time and got to Detroit and Canada well before Noon. Lorraine chased around the dial, with Sirius and broadcast radio both, attempting to find me a broadcast of the Masters. They were starting early to avoid the arrival of the same storm system in Augusta that was pummelling us on the drive 1500km to the north.  Lorraine couldn’t find a broadcast and her attempt to beg Sirius to upgrade us for the day was unsuccessful so she resorted to providing me her own play by play of the tournament to me as I drove.

Lorraine and I get anxious about the border crossing — I tend to be scrupulously honest with these things and I’m more accustomed to the grilling you get crossing at the airport. After almost 6 weeks out of the country, I have no real clue what we’ve bought... It’s not like anyone keeps records.  It wasn’t much but still I had to work with Lorraine between episodes of the Golf Play by Play to develop a list and the amounts we’re bringing back and how to deal with the small amount of booze we’ve got beyond the limit.  I always want to avoid the hassle of having the trailer searched only for them to find two cigars I’ve forgotten to declare…  However, my anxiety was misplaced; As usual, the border was quick and easy — not a long line up and no big interrogation.

 “How Long have you been gone”, almost a grunt from the man in the booth.

 “Since the fourth of March”, with almost a smile.

“How much you bringing back?” Very flatly, but with a look that said why the fuck are you coming back now?  It’s way too cold still.

 “About 650 dollars” ( I believe this to be pretty accurate)

 “Thanks have a nice day”.

And we drive away — no questions about booze. Not asked, not telling... “Woo Hoo, I have Beer and coolers” says Lorraine — I’d been prepared to dump those if asked about quantities, because our real intent to import was our exact limit on the three bottles of bourbon from Maker’s Mark.

The drive from Windsor to London is equalled in boredom only by the drive between Dayton and Toledo. The glaciers left this country incredibly flat; Farmers have left it largely treeless and without interest — especially in the pre-spring; field after gray field of the skeletons of autumn corn plants interspersed by windbreaks of fading elms and Manitoba maples. In large part to dispel the boredom, we hit the rest-stop near Thamesville to grab coffee and a sandwich, and to top up the gas tank. Gas was $4 US a gallon Gasoline — on a day that the wind had my mileage up near 30L/100km ( Don’t ask me to convert that into imperial — I’m a Canadian it’s my prerogative to mix measurement systems in the same sentence). The wind was straight at us all the way from Windsor making the truck and trailer buck like a brahma bull. Tim Horton’s coffee, yeah! — for a Canadian to go a month without Timmie’s is a difficult thing.  I find the awful consistency of the bland Colombian blend comforting; it kept me awake the rest of the way to Innerkip.

We were the last of the family to arrive for French Fry Day with the Kipfers. Some people think this is a strange family tradition, the Kipfers think it is strange that others find their desire for homemade French fries unusual. Every family needs something to bring them together, some families more than others. I think it’s sweet that a French Fry reunion is what works for them and the Fries are pretty good; hand cut, skin-on, browned and well-cooked russets in fresh canola oil. You need to salt them yourselves. While they were cooking, I ran to watch the last group play the last two holes of the Masters — everyone was glad that Tiger finally managed his big come back. He had spent enough time in the wilderness. The fries were ready just after that — hot and fresh. They ran out of Ketchup so Lorraine got to run out to the trailer for ours and save the day; dragging your whole house behind you in a truck has its unexpected compensations.

Kip and Trish making Fries.

Lorraine’s sister Lise and her daughter Sam and Brother Pete and his wife Pat left not long after lunch. It was nice to see them all — I got a fair amount of ribbing for the Black Water Tank Disaster which Lorraine had told them all with particular relish while I was out hooking up the electrical for the trailer.  I had told Lorraine at the time she’d eventually laugh at the incident — she’s not quite there yet but she’s good with getting everyone to laugh at me. It was nice to see them all and I’ve never minded being the centre of attention even if the humour is at my “expense”.

We hung with Kip and his wife Trish for a couple of hours catching up after that — family and DNA and trailer stories. Lorraine brought the dogs in from the trailer to visit as well — this made a bit of a circus of 6 little dogs doing what dogs do. They settled down and adjusted quickly after a little running around with paper towels and a few stern words to cut out the growling and posturing on both sides. They’ve met many times before and I do believe that dogs remember each other even over an absence of months or even years. A light snack/supper of spaghettini and tomato sauce with a little cheese and then it was off to the trailer — me to write my words  and Lorraine to put her Jammie’s on and watch some TV and relax before bed.