Sailing west on I-84 at 80mph. Sarah basking in the imagined perception of wind blowing her hair as she presses pedal to the metal. Just stopped at Flying J near Jerome, ID for road trip nutrition: Jalapeno Cheddar Chicharrones and a Dr Pepper. Doesn’t get much better than that!
Left Anne’s place around 9 with the addition of an old oak chair and several photos of long dead relatives. Anne has a thing for pictures. Her cabin is covered with them. Literally covered. Almost no bare wall exposed. Above the old library table at the front door is what I call the Mostkoff/Frehling shrine. Portraits of Aunt Minnie and Uncle Aldo, my grandmother, Hattie; wedding picture of my parents with Mom all white and proper; baby pictures of her brothers, Paul and Norton; an older photo of Captain Norton in his Navy uniform (I always thought he was a milk man in his dress whites). Other small framed images of me and Anne and Momma and Daddy at various still life poses are scattered across the worn table. The kitchen is adorned with an assortment of non-professional art pieces. Some VERY non-professional depicting her long gone 3 legged dog, Barney, painted by a friend’s child; a couple of fading Christmas cards; and a collection of painted nudes of Anne posed as an Indian Maiden, much to the distress of my mother. In the dining area are two very nice (read: professional) magnolias below an antique 12 candle chandelier that has already scorched the roof beams. The adjoined living room besides offering the above magnificent window view of the Tetons displays an oil of an antebellum home, a photo of Hale-Bop comet over the Grand, and a concert snapshot of Dillon in much younger days. The small bathroom concentrates on her island travels and Anne’s bedroom upstairs is dedicated to her. Then there is the connected original 100 year old sheep herder’s cabin kept a bit more rustic with oil lamps, threadbare tapestries, and the occasional animal skin draped over a chair. For added authenticity daylight shines thru areas of lost chinking. And, of course, every flat surface has collected chatcha memories from vacations, antique finds from thrift stores, and long unused or even unidentifiable objects d’art pilfered from my father’s, Baton Rough Restaurant Supply store. I have to admit, the girl’s got an eye!
The shed we raised on blocks is gone. Two good ole local boys showed up yesterday afternoon with a trailer and the same front end loader and while drinking a Pabst (Don the loader driver, not me) the shed was expertly and gingerly loaded and unceremoniously driven away. It was not decided how they were going to get it off but that was going to be their problem!
The horse with no name (she actually has a name but Anne didn’t know it) finally got comfortable with me and Sarah to allow us to pet her. She didn’t seem to interested in carrots or apples, just wanted some attention and lovin’.
For friends that may be wondering; yes, Anne is still alive and I’m not too scared. At least not physically! For two siblings that have lived distanced physically and emotionally for the past 40 years and, honestly didn’t have much success as playmates in the early years, we managed with a lot of understanding and a good dose of tolerance. As Sarah observes, with me and Anne together, it’s a big bag of mixed nuts!!
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