Tuesday, June 12, 2012

YOLOkoboji--Entry 1

Week one is over. Uhh... excuse me...where did that go? This week has flown by faster then Looney Toons Road Runner. When initially getting to Okoboji, my mom was a little more than anxious to show us around the town. The closer we got to the civilization the more she perked up in the driver seat. After making fun of how giddy she was getting, she leaned over to me and said the four words that tick me off more than just about anything, "You just don't understand." Most of the time I immediately tune out people when they say that but the fact that my mothers smile was ear to ear as she gazed off into the horizon waiting for her paradise to creep into view, I realized I didn't understand, but I was bound and determined to find out. The section of Iowa where I was headed was truly a family epicenter. As I watched as passed corn fields green with hope of a fall crop, my mom kept looking back and fourth. Her faced changed from enjoyment to that of searching for something. Thinking we had just become lost in the middle of rural Iowa, I decided to enjoy a scenic tour of corn. When suddenly the car took a turn and we were suddenly thrust into residential living. As Alexis and I gazed out at all the lake homes that cost more than either of us will ever see we were suddenly startled with a big gasp and "THERE IT IS!" We followed my moms finger as she pointed out my window to a small yellowish house in the center of the lot. She explained that this was my great grandparents lake house. Without skipping a beat she began telling us stories and memories of the house and the surroundings. We made a couple of quick stops to continue our little tour before reaching our hotel. Here was where we gained another tour guide. My mom's cousin Becky showed up and the moment she walked into our room there was a whole new definition giddy in the mix. Becky and my mom together there was no where to put two words, they exchanged their own stories and memories. After eating dinner Becky took us on a driving tour of Okoboji. It was like ten at night and the earth was pitch black but that didn't stop them from showing us every memory they could conjure up. I don't know what was more interesting trying to see the places  through the dark or listening to the laughter that was coming from the front seats.

The next day My mom, Alexis and I got back into the car and drove to a town near by named Emmitsburg. She was able to find the house she was looking for as if we were driving home. She pulled up to the Queen Marie Bed and Breakfast.
 "This is your greatgrandparent's house". The place we had seen the day before was just the lake home but this was the home. Gorgeous doesn't even begin to describe the house. We noticed a man walking up to the door, we caught his attention and mom explained her history with the house. He graciously let us in and I looked at my mom and she was able to mutter the words, "It hasn't changed". All the wallpaper, the floors, the oven, and all the details were a perfect time capsule of my mom's younger years.

As the owners of the house showed us the rest of the house, they would describe to us what they used it for and my mom gave a historical recount of the rooms. As we left my mom had a new skip to her step. Next stop was seeing the old family farm. We didn't stay long. The final stop on family history tour was a trip to the cemetery. Mom parked the car and told us she couldn't remember exactly where our family had been barried. We were able to narrow down the field since this cemetery was segregated, Catholics on one side and Protestants on the other. After locating the headstones of my great grandmother and grandfather, I noticed something very strange, my mother wasn't crying. My mom is a crier, and it shocked me that she didn't have to pull a tissue out for this occasion. As I looked away from my mom I noticed another headstone with the same last name. I inquired as to who the stone belonged to, she told me that this was my great great grandparents. The wind left my lungs as I read the year, 1873. After regaining air I got into the car. My mom had no need for tissues the entire trip, I think she was more proud to be showing and introducing us to our history. The roots that began Garrelts family line in America, which turned into the Butterworth name, and now in me has turned into Wineman. But here is where it began.

After a dinner with Becky it was finally time to head to the Okoboji Summer Theatre.
 I heard about this magical place when I was in the third grade, and after twelve years of waiting and imagining and hearing story after story it was finally my turn. As our car drove along the gravel we pulled up to the dorm and I was quickly met by friends. With each returning embrace I remembered how much I had missed them. After chatting and introducing them to family, came the time to say goodbye to Alexis and my mom. I gave them each a hug and the returned to the car. Alexis rolled down the window I grabbed her hand. as I grasped it I looked at her and immediatly realized how grown up she was. I am not going to see her again until December. where had the years gone and when did  my little sister grow up. She said she was going to miss me, the car pulled away and our fingers one by one had to let go. I watched as the red car disappeared into the distance. I turned around and got the sinking feeling in my stomach that I had had only one other time in my life, and that was when my drove away from Stephens College after first dropping me off. The feeling that there was no going back, this was it, I had been ready for this, and now it was time to jump in with both feet. I walked into the dorm to begin to unpack, when I ran into my friend Olivia. We got to chatting and catching up and she dropped a phrase that I thought was her mispronouncing "yoyo". when I asked her about it she said "Yolo". She described, probably to remove the wondering face I was wearing, "You only live once".

I am the fifth generation of my family to experience Okoboji Iowa. Each of them leaving a mark in someway wether it is a name on a silo, or establishing the family to its new home in America. Now although I am not staying here for the rest of my life I know I that this is my chance to pick up and leave my mark for my generation. This summer is going to be amazing because you only live once so why not live it up now. :)


love always
DW