This weekend I was in Neenah spending time with my dad while
my mom was away. He humored me when I
asked him to go for a hike and didn’t even blink when I mentioned it was an
hour away.
I drove my dad to Two Rivers right on the shore of Lake
Michigan. When we left Neenah the skies
were clear and blue, and the temperature was in the sixties; however, once we
got to Two Rivers it was foggy, windy and a mere 40 degrees. It was my first up close experience with
“lake effect.” After we left the park,
within 15 minutes we were back in the land of blue, sunny skies and warm
weather.
My dad is a good friend and he is one of the funniest people
I know (I get my sarcasm from him). During our drive I made a lot of jokes
about his senior citizen status, he made fun of my bad driving, and we both
lamented about the sheer number of roundabouts along the way (Even out in the
middle of nowhere, there were roundabouts. Where in the world are they all
coming from?).
Once at the park, I wanted to see the Rawley Point
Lighthouse, which turned out to be nothing like I thought. It looks kind of like a water tower.
With the clouds so thick and low we couldn’t
see very far along the shore.
So we hiked inland for a mile along the Red Loop
Trail.
This is where I learned that in addition to my sarcasm, I’m
fairly certain I get my sense of direction from my dad. I was the one with the map and yet he felt
certain we should follow some yellow arrows. I should point out that they did
not go in the direction I had mapped out. I even questioned following yellow
arrows on a trail called “RED loop” but I was overruled as only a grown
daughter who loves and respects her dad can be.
Within minutes I knew exactly where we were and it was not on the Red
Loop Trail. I recognized the yellow arrows as being indicators of the Ice Age
Trail. Being the amazing daughter that I am, I humored the old man and we
trekked on because I knew it would eventually get us back to where I wanted.
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| My dad should be grateful I stopped him before he hiked the entire trail (all 1,000 miles) |
After hiking we drove over to a structure, which was built in
the 1930s, and is by the main beach area.
My dad sat by the shoreline and told me about coming here as a kid with
the family (he is the middle child of five kids) and how they’d eat lunch in the
pavilion and swim in the really cold water and splash along the shore. Even
though I had never been there before I could picture them all and it was a
really cool moment for me to share with my dad.
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| That's my dad! |
Later that evening, my dad and I went to Menasha to the
Trestle Trail Bridge at Fritse Park.
Two
weeks ago this area was struck with tragedy. On a beautiful spring evening, dozens of families and couples and friends were walking across this iconic
bridge over Lake Butte de Morts. A mentally ill man opened fire from one of the
fishing piers and killed random strangers before taking his own life. A father
and daughter were two of the victims. The victim’s wife was shot but managed to get their two youngest
children to safety (I’ve since learned that she will survive). The distance that injured woman had to cover to get her youngest from the fishing pier to safety is heroic and awe-inspiring. I commend everyone who sprang to action to save her life.
I’ve walked across this bridge several times with my dad.
The views are lovely and it’s a really pleasant walk. One end is at a park that I used to play in
as a child and the other end is near a lock and damn that we used to travel
through in the family boat. The area is
nostalgic for me.
I’m not a person who typically likes to memorialize the location
of where someone died. I’d prefer to remember and honor how someone lived (instead
of a gravestone, I’d like someone to plant a tree or grow tulips or donate a bench
in my honor). However, I was deeply moved by the mementos and tokens that
people have left on that fishing pier.
Standing next to my dad in the spot where two weeks earlier
another father and daughter were murdered stopped my breath.
I didn’t take any photos of the memorial or the place where
the tragedy occurred. I don’t want to remember this bridge for that tragedy but
instead of the story of resilience for the community.
The bridge is beautiful.
I will continue to walk here when I visit home and I will
think of my family and how much I’d be lost without them.
