Up North

One of the things I remember most of my childhood is time spent going "up north" to visit my Grandma. My Dad is from Ogdensburg, NY and my Grandma had moved back to that area after my Grandpa passed away. We used to go visit her often and I have so many wonderful memories of those days. I revisited the area with my Dad recently and he provided me with stories of his childhood. I drove to the house that my Grandma lived in. I had not seen that house in decades, but it still looked the same as I remembered it. I can remember sitting watching my sister do cartwheels around the yard, Grandma playing the accordian for us, pretending to still be asleep in her bed on the mornings we were to leave so we could stay just a little longer.

My sister, cousins, and I used to walk down the road to this store where we would buy penny candy and individual pieces of Bazooka Joe Bubble Gum for 5 cents. The highlight was the comic strip that would be wrapped around the gum as the gum itself was almost always way too hard to chew.

We also used to go to this ball field. The 5 of us would join the other small handful of kids in the area to run around the bases (I don't recall ever playing an actual game) and dare each other to go in the run down creepy house next to Grandma's.

In this spot on Black Lake we would sit for hours and catch fish to take back to have at Grandma's. I can remember sitting in the rear facing back seat of the station wagon with my feet on the Styrofoam cooler hoping the fish would not flop out at my feet. I can remember the smell of the fish burning on the fire when they were left untended to too long.

This is the river that separates the US from Canada in Ogdensburg. My Dad has told me so many tales of his and my uncles antics going back and forth over that bridge in their younger days. The saddest though, is that it is at this spot that my Dad's aunt and boyfriend let their car go over the edge to lead people to believe they had drowned. They were young and ran away to go against the family to be married. It was years later when it was discovered that they were alive and living in a different state.

It was nice to spend the weekend with my Dad hearing how Grandma earned "an Abe and a George" while he would help my Grandpa with the milk runs. I laughed so hard my sides hurt at the never ending tales of his and my uncle's ways of passing time and the stunts they would pull. I understood his somberness as he pointed out the exact spot where his Grandma collapsed and passed away along side the road while walking home one night from a friend's house. I saw the sparkle in his eye when we went into the same restaurant for dinner that he used to go to with my Grandma before going to see a movie many years ago. Sometimes parents will tell the same stories many times; I cherish the stories every time. I am glad that my Dad took the time to tell me, show me, and relive with me.