Home Run

You know how they say you can't go home again?

I swore I'd never settle down in Alpena. The hamlet in northern Michigan is too remote and too far from an airport, among many other reasons. Well, on Monday, we are closing on a small three-bedroom ranch…in Alpena. As my mom nears 80, she needs more help, and our kids adore her. So we are going home again. 

When my dad got sick, the plan was to return to Alpena temporarily. When he died in late January, my wife, Stephanie, and I discussed what was next. "We can't leave your mom," Steph said. She was right, but it wasn't that easy. The nearest airport (with reasonably priced flights), in Traverse City, is more than a two-hour drive. We have only one car, so any excursion is a five-hour round trip for her to drop me off and pick me up. Also, if Monday Q Info doesn't work out, there aren't jobs here for journalists who write about the minor leagues of golf. Then my mom broke her tailbone. 

I'm unsure if it was because all of us were dealing with my dad and his dementia, but we didn't notice my mom had aged. She lived with us while she was on the mend, but the recovery took some time. And when she did move back to the home that she and my dad had lived in, she just wasn't herself. As she closes in on 79, her memory isn't as sharp as it once was. She naps occasionally, something she had never done, and she asks for help with things that she used to do herself. Over the weekend, she asked me to change a few light bulbs and fill the birdfeeders. I was happy to do it, but these are things she used to do herself. 

Mom and Dad built a house on a 100-acre tract of land my grandparents lived on and left for them when they died. My dad loved that property, as my grandfather did before him. They walked it, hunted on it, took care of it and made it better. It is also a lot of work. Trees have fallen across the nearly one-mile driveway that winds to the house. That same driveway needs to be plowed during the winter. And although deer hunting season is only two weeks a year, getting ready for it is a year-long process. Planting fields, fixing blinds, cutting wood—the jobs never end. My mom can't do any of that. She also wants to stay in that house as long as possible, mainly for the connection to her husband of 55 years and her parents. I understand that. It would have been all but impossible to help her without being here. 

My mom has five grandchildren, and almost every night, she takes out journals and writes in them. She does it for all of the grandkids, from the day they were born until they graduate from high school. It might be a funny anecdote or a serious story from something heartbreaking, such as a breakup with a boyfriend or whatever the day's phone call, text or visit brought about. She has filled book after book with these handwritten stories. The kids are not allowed to read them (nor are Stephanie and I), but on the day of high school graduation, that is her gift to them. Imagine the dedication it takes to keep that up. 

It's not just the journals, though. Last week my sister's daughter, Evelyn, was supposed to get her license, but a paperwork error caused a delay. Eveyln was understandably upset, and the first one to call her was her grandmother. When Anika, my brother's daughter, has boy or school problems, she always calls Grandma. Alexa, my brother's stepdaughter, texts daily about her new job in Denver. Grandma is always there. 

My sister, brother, and I never lived in Alpena with kids, so my parents always traveled to us. That meant when we moved back in the summer of 2021, Grandma had two grandkids right down the road for the first time. Life, however, revolved around my dad and his dementia. The kids fit in time with Grandma when they could. After Dad died and we settled into a new routine, we rarely went more than a few days without seeing my mom. The kids ask, "Can we see Grandma today?" They go to church with her each Sunday. Though I can’t be sure, I believe they love church as much as the trip afterward to get a Culver's butter burger. They have sleepovers at her house, engage in meme wars through texting, and have ice cream for breakfast when they spend the night with her. It's why we are staying. It's beautiful to watch. We couldn't take the kids away from her. 

In my darkest times, my mom was always there for me. She is truly a saint. The least we can do is stay for her. 

The kids will attend the same elementary school my parents and I attended. The house we bought is just a mile from where I grew up. Our neighbors are old family friends. The butcher my parents bought meat from is within walking distance from our new front door. Small-town America. 

My mom is a fantastic mother, mother-in-law, grandmother and friend, and I want to make sure my kids spend as much time with her as possible. 

Because of Mom, you can come home again. 

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