aitkin for the bacon...

I was in Aitkin, Minnesota last week and had the chance to spend a lovely 24 hours with my 93 year old maternal grandmother, Grandma Jones. Aitkin is two hours north of the twin cities. The Mississippi runs along its outskirts, just 100 miles south of the mighty river's humble beginnings. I can throw a rock across it in Aitkin...with my left hand. A far cry from the rumbling rapids that flow below the modern-twisted steel of the bridge in Alton which is the more familiar Mississippi to me. A far cry from everything.

Before I left, Zoe told me to "tell all my friends in Minnesota hi. And Grandma." I'm not sure who those friends are (although with Zoe, everyone soon becomes a friend), but I did say hi to Grandma. And I enjoyed it immensely. I asked her deeply personal questions and made her give me equally personal responses. I just sat back in her massaging recliner and listened intently as she described the means by which she dealt with marital conflict, how she survived raising four "delightful, but very strong willed girls" (euphemism for, "without God and vitamins, I would have murdered those psychos"), and how she currently deals with the "delightful, but very strong willed neighbors" in her apartment complex.

Walking around town with Grandma was a bit like hanging out with the Dalai Lama. Everywhere she went people would wave and smile. People would stop and talk to her...ask her how she was doing, then make some comment about how amazing she is. I was slightly disappointed each time she introduced me as her grandson; I was enjoying the reverie so much that I wanted these people to imagine I was her long-haired lover, visiting from California. They appeared to be disappointed as well when I became "the grandson from Illinois." I think they wanted me to be the lover too. She would be even more mysterious and remarkable. 93 years old. Perfect hearing. Great driver. No limp. Five almonds and 16 vitamins with every meal. Spelt wheat muffins. Fruit.

It was a wonderful trip...almost spiritual for me. I learned a lot by asking so many questions and gained insight by revisiting childhood with an adult perspective (by myself, which I think was key). The hogback is a molehill, not a mountain. The lakes are still beautiful. I ate Grandma's homemade rhubarb crisp and nibbled on fresh cherries that sat in a bowl on the middle of her kitchen table. I listened reverently as Grandma talked about my Mom and Dad. How much she loves them, and admires them. How grateful she is for Dad...as a father, a provider, a supporter. "We never worried about your Mom...because she had your Dad." How happy she is that they irrationally ended up together and that despite having had their fair share of life's challenges, they have remained happy and faithful to one another, and to God. She thanked Darlene for all the good that has come from her life. Darlene was just some girl she met her freshman year of College. Darlene was popular and liked by everyone. And she liked Jesus. She talked openly about prayer and it was then that little Lucille decided to start praying like Darlene. Prayer was her answer to almost every question I asked during my trip. I marvel at her authentically effortless faith. Calcium supplements strengthen her bones. Prayer strengthens everything else. She really prays. And I'd dare say that if Grandma's prayers weren't flowing out of Aitkin, I'd still be able to throw a rock across the Mississippi at Alton...