A Trip To Minnesota (And Other Things)

I made a trip to the old boyhood homestead in Boone, Iowa for a couple of days just to see Ma. She'll be ninety-one this coming July 6. She's not your normal elderly soul. Today we're watching the Chicago Cubs. Yesterday she started bargaining on life and death. Her hope is to live to see the 2011 NCAA basketball finals. Her dream is to see the Iowa State Cyclones in the Final Four----when Hell freezes over I'd say. She'd trade places with Daniel Webster fighting the Devil to make that fantasy come true. Prior to my arrival I visited in Davenport, Iowa. It's where my children were raised from infancy to high school graduations. It's where I coached and taught and, finally, realized I wasn't the next John Wooden so I sought another line of occupation. I spent time with a former player and student. He's about 54 now and was the finest competitor I ever put on a basketball court. He is a wonderful father, husband and businessman. Know what? He still calls me "Coach"; not Mike or Mr., but Coach. What an honor. His son is a fantastic athlete. Only a sophomore in high school he has varsity letters in football, basketball, track and baseball. This isn't a chump athletic school, either. We watched his son play baseball. Dad didn't say anything about the kid but I knew how excited he was watching him perform. I was the same way watching my youngest play basketball. I never said a word or showed emotion at his games but inside I was bursting with pride and hoped that he played like a star. Every once in awhile I'll remember some thing he did that stands out. I'll recall how he tore apart the full court press against Bishop Hartley. How could I forget how the student body chanted his name toward the end of the State Quarterfinal basketball tournament. It was magical.
Now, just like my former player, my son is a first class husband, father and businessman. I think that's the way God wants and expects it to be and this dad bursts with pride when he sees it.
On Saturday I'll head up to beautiful Ten Mile Lake in Hackensack, Minnesota(pop. 210)and open up the cabin. Minnesota skies are unlike any other place. The pines become a brighter green as the sun shines down on them. The water in our clear spring fed lake is nurtered from the origins of the Mississippi River. Just to the right of our dock a thirty foot birch hangs out over the lake. It's been doing this since we arrived in '94. How it stays in that position is a marvel. A guy once told me I should cut it down. "What're nuts", I said. I wonder how many years it's been that way. It's unique and it's ours.
The fishing on the lake isn't that special and I don't know why. Maybe, when I do snag a lunker, it's the reason I feel like the old man and the sea fella.
So, if you happen to be in northern Minnesota, give us a shout. With 210 people you're bound to find someone who knows MJ Hawkeye. If you don't then drive to the end of Boone Point Road. I'll be looking for you.