Midwest Trip Was Heaven on Earth

Cedar Point Raptor

As appeared in the Albuquerque Journal Rio Rancho section June 25, 2011

Last week my daughters and I flew back to Ohio to see my father and some old friends I haven’t seen in over 25 years. Yes, I had been working out – in the pool – for weeks and of course I had been lathering on the tan-in-a-can for days to make sure I had that natural Southwest glow. I wasn’t about to look like a pudgy middle-aged frump.

Our first stop was in Columbus to see my dad, who continues to struggle with Parkinson’s. A little slower, he was amazed to see how tall the kids had grown, and glad to have the company. We went to his favorite place for dinner, Hometown Buffet, and gorged ourselves as everyone does at those trough-style restaurants.

My college roommate just happened to be in town that same week, so we met up for a night of laughter and fun, just don’t bring up politics. We first met when the computer matched us up our sophomore year at Ohio University, roomed together again our senior year, and have stayed close friends ever since. Fate can be a wonderful thing.

After saying goodbye the next morning, we piled into the car and headed north on I-71 to Cleveland. But no one could sit still because the next day was to be the greatest day in a teenager’s life. We were going to the best amusement park in the world, as voted by the magazine Amusement Today for the past 13 years.
We awoke early, packed sandwiches, put on our walking shoes and headed for Cedar Point to ride all 17 roller coasters, including three of the top 10 steel roller coasters in the world.

No, not all of us went on the big ones, but between us we managed to hit the Corkscrew, Blue Streak, Gemini, Maverick, Millennium Force, Raptor, and Top Thrill Dragster, just to name a few.
An afternoon shower forced everyone to seek shelter for a half an hour while the rides were shut down. We ended up in Frontierland at the Red Garter Saloon for some nachos, beer and pop; finally a place where I am not the only one who uses that three-letter word.

Saturday night brought a cookout with friends I hadn’t seen since the mid-’80s. On one hand, it was like we hadn’t lost touch at all. And on the other, the wrinkles on our faces, the marriages, the births, the divorces and the deaths along the way reminded us 25 years really is a long time. We were young and relatively innocent then, and now a little wiser, a little mellower and a lot more appreciative of our precious time and who we should spend it with.

A little shower during the night gave us a misty Sunday morning and a Father’s Day classic car show. I found my usual favorites, but was excited to see my grandmother’s gold 1967 Bonneville; I instantly recognized the dashboard, the radio buttons I used to push and gold cloth seats where I used to sit. A sudden downpour had the old guys scrambling for tarps to cover their roadsters and dragsters and tricked out ’61 Impalas.

The daily humidity level was at 60 percent and all I wanted was to jump in Lake Erie for relief. Instead, I settled for two showers a day.

Did I have good weather, someone asked me? Yes, it was overcast the entire week with isolated thunderstorms. Heaven on earth to this transplanted Midwestern girl.

Quote of the Week: “They say if you get far enough away, you’ll be on your way back home.” – “Blind Love” by Tom Waits.