My Mother the Rain Magnet

One of the locks on the Canadian side of Sault Sainte Marie. I also like this overhead view.

Probably the most famous story my father tells about being married to my mother was his own camping-in-the-rain tale. I don’t know what year it was, but after a number of trips where they broke camp in the rain, my dad decided he was fed up and wasn’t going to go camping anymore. My mom, however, wanted to go camping on the American side of Sault Sainte Marie and managed to persuade him to come with her, on one condition—if it rained again, she was breaking camp by herself and he was going to go sit in the car.

She was furious when she realized my dad was serious!

There was a reward for that, though—I spent my childhood in comfy hotel rooms, not holed up in a tent somewhere!

 

My grandmother would probably be the best source of “when did Mom start attracting rain?”; but after sixty-three years, I imagine she doesn’t remember anymore. I do know, however, that as of 2017, it still happens. Mom and Grandma go camping in Algonac (pictured left) around August every year; and every year the same:

“How was your trip?”

“It rained.”

The worst part is that my grandmother’s bad leg is getting better, which means she’s going to keep camping (despite being eighty-five)…which means that I can promise you some weekend in August, Saint Clair County is going to see a nice downpour! (If you live over on the east side of the state, I can ask my grandma so you can plan ahead…just let me know.)

 

I was trying to think of how to end this entry, and I don’t think there’s any better way than what my dad just said.

“You know, they have such problems with wildfires in California that your mother should be sent out to go camping for a while!”

My mom might be the perplexing precipitation persuader, but I don’t think even she can stop a 280,000 acre wildfire!

(She could probably stand to try, though. 😉 )


Special note: I started this post on Mother’s Day, but I caught the Cough That Doesn’t Go Away and was given Zithromax for the drainage tied to it. Turns out that Zpak (as it’s also called) makes me sort of sick and—more importantly—reduces my appetite, so with a five-day dosage period and a 15.5-day half-life*, I just started feeling 80% normal Friday (8 June).

(*”Half-life” is the scientific way of saying “how long the med stays in your system”, so if the yucks start on day two, it’s about a twenty day period of misery for someone who reacts like I do.)

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