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Wednesday, July 20, 2005 | ||
What do you think of this story? | Summer back in Illinois: Going home againBy LINDSAY BIANCHI Recently I returned to my homeland by the river gently flowing ... Illinois, to visit my family. I hadnt been back to the Land of Lincoln for several years, so I was curious to see if anything had changed. I flew up north on a puddle jumper with my sister, Krista, who lives in Roswell. We traveled from the busiest airport in the world, Hartsfield-Jackson, to the Greater Peoria Airport, a not-so-busy airport on an morning flight. Stepping down the fold-out steps of the small jet, I suddenly had the urge to wave to the crowd as if I were part of the British Invasion circa 1964. Unfortunately, there was no crowd. Our Dad picked us up and we headed for the other side of the river and a quiet little town called Pekin. Maybe quiet isnt the right word. Try inaudible. After life in the fast lanes of Fayetteville, Pekin is like a parking lot with buildings. The change of pace was a relief. The overall effect for me when I re-entered the Pekin Zone was like waking up from a very detailed dream to discover that I had aged nearly four years, but everything around me had stayed exactly the same. Had I really never left? Were my family and relatives in on some bizarre joke with me as the punch line? Not really. It merely seemed that way because I was letting my mind wander between endless conversations about doctor visits, garden reports, Cousin so-and-so and Mrs. Whozits, and the frightening lack of rain over the past month. Eventually my sister and I unpacked and headed over to the south side of Pekin, the dreaded Derby Street. This is where our youngest sister Ginas flower shop is located. Her green thumb, which she inherited from our Mom, is now learning the business of fresh flowers and funeral wreaths. Krista and I pretended to help her as I walked around taking pictures like a Japanese tourist. I couldnt help but think of Mushniks from Little Shop of Horrors. I told Gina that she needed to put an interesting and unusual plant in the window. She ignored me and fetched some red roses for a customer. So far this is the highlight of our visit. Mushniks. As we closed the shop and stepped outside, the smell of Corn Products, a long standing refinery, carried with it many memories, most of them not about corn. Later, theres dinner with my parents to look forward to. My Dad whips up one of his famous marinaras. We eat like starving pigs and settle in the living room. Soon the house is filled with my brother Steves family as well as Gina and her two youngest who have sprouted like weeds, or corn, take your pick. Suddenly I feel old. My nephew Cole and his wife Stephanie dont help matters by introducing me to their daughter Talia, who backs away slowly from my facial hair. Talia is the center of attention even though a dozen conversations are being batted about. My parents first great-grandchild is well on her way to being spoiled to perfection. Theres no avoiding it. Shes way too cute for anything else. The big event of the weekend is my Moms side of the family 7000th reunion. I havent been for a long time, so the night before the event, all the aunts and uncles and a few of us kids get together for a night of games. Theres a lengthy game of Catch-phrase to get things rolling. With 30 people playing, two teams are picked and we all take turns making ourselves look silly. Its the most fun Ive had in days! The evening ends with a quick triple play of Jeopardy. The hardcore factoid freaks are the only ones left. Its been a long time since my Aunt Roberta and Uncle Paul, Aunt Carol and Uncle Bob, my cousins David and Debbie, Krista and I have partaken in our favorite question and answer game. We gave up on the electronic Jeopardy version after 10 minutes of utter confusion and go back to the plastic box game. You cant teach an old dog new tricks. In Pekin, you can try, but it usually leads to utter confusion. The next day is the big Flynn reunion at the 4-H shelter, a building which has held many of these gatherings. Krista and I showed up early to cover the tables and blow away the leaves and dust. The food began to arrive with relatives I havent seen in forever. Deviled eggs, fried chicken, ribs, fresh fruit, pie, and cake are quickly dismantled. Thanks to Aunt Carol, more games ensue, an egg toss which I lose, a water balloon toss which I lose, and a sunflower seed spitting contest which I, of course, lose. Dejected and thirsty, I headed for the volley ball court, another Flynn tradition. The ball bounced around me. I got to hit a few times, sometimes with skill, most of the time with shame. Two hand! is a popular battle cry. After three games, I am ready to sit down and chat in the shade. Before long, the biggest event, the raffle, is about to commence. Everyone is sitting around with rows of tickets that blow off the tables. I actually won something cool, a Twister beach towel. Later in the drawing, I won the picture frame with a teddy bear sewn to it. Bonus! There were a lot of lingering goodbyes and impromptu photo sessions. Lets get all the twins together. Now we need all the first cousins. Second cousins. Grandparents, grandkids and whoever else has been inadvertently left out. I get some good shots on my digital camera. More pictures for my unpublished photo essay. Dont look for it any time soon. I am way too disorganized. It took me three days to download the pictures onto my computer when I returned from my past. I gave my dog, Angel, the teddy bear off of the picture frame. She proceeded to tear the eyes off with glee. She hadnt seen me for five days and nearly puts me in the hospital with her spastic greeting. Its nice to be home. The visit was your typical whirlwind of drop-ins and stop-offs. There were more people and friends in there somewhere, promises of a Christmas get together, e-mails exchanged. A lot of stuff. It may take me till the holidays to process it all. Its nice to know that my home town is still there. Im assuming its still there. Maybe it only exists when I show up. Maybe Im just a figment of their imagination. Maybe I should stop watching old Twilight Zones. Maybe. | |
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