2005-07-30
Montana
The houseboy and I are semi-recently returned from a sadly-altogether-too-brief jaunt out to Montana to visit my family, the primary reason for said jaunt being my great-aunt's 100th birthday.
The first thing that always gets me every time I go out there is how POLITE everyone is. I mean, common courtesy really shouldn't be a shock to the system, but coming from a place where it's not uncommon to hear mothers referring to their offspring as "cocksuckers" while riding on the subway, the first time one encounters a dirtbike-riding teenager who announces his presence behind you with a perky "Excuse Me?" -- followed by an equally-cheerful "Thank You!" -- is enough to drive one to tears.
We spent most of the time in and around Helena, which is where my mother was brought up, and where most of my family still resides. My mother's youngest sister and her husband put us (me, the houseboy, my sister Tina and my niece Chloe) up at their ranch in Canyon Creek (that's pronounced "crick," by the by).
The ranch is pretty amazing, and one building in particular has fascinated me for YEARS. It's just "always been there," and it's supposedly the last remaining structure of some long-gone settlement, although my aunt and uncle - with all the work that needs to be done on a ranch day in and day out - simply haven't gotten around to "getting someone out here to have a look at it."
It's really rather like having a ghost town on your property, or at least part of one. I love this little building so much.
For some reason, my uncle really wanted to see the houseboy on a horse; I mean - I suspect the reason that they offered to put us up in the first place was just to see this happen. I have to say: take away the Patriots tshirt that he wears at just about every given opportunity, and he looks quite natural up there. Rugged, even. No?
For your information, yes - I rode a horse as well, but I am NOT posting any pictures of this. I MAY be persuaded to stick one up on the message board, provided that we get enough requests and/or participation in said forum. In the interim, you chickens will just have to settle for this shot of my aunt with the mighty Sharpie, since we kind of look alike (my aunt and me, not me and Sharpie):
Other highlights included a lovely boat trip up the Missouri River through The Gates of The Mountains (2005 marks the bicentennial of Lewis & Clark's journey through that very area, and there was no escaping the various and sundry tchotchkes trumpeting this fact, from bookstores to gas stations). This is a wondrously beautiful and breathtaking trip - one that my grandfather was constantly trying to get my sister and I enthused about on visits past. We saw all manner of flora and fauna, but among the coolest sights on this 100+ minute ride is the CAVE MONSTER.
As my pal Jean would say: GRA! He is cute but he is FEARSOME!
No trip to Helena - for me, anyway - is complete without a stop in at The Parrot, a candy store/soda fountain that's been in continuous operation since 1922.
It's a worn-out cliche, but in this case it's true: to step inside The Parrot is to step into the past. The only thing even remotely modern-looking about the place is its awning. All of their candy and ice cream is made on the premises, and it's all awesome.
FUN FACT: as a teenager in the 50's, my mother was tossed out of The Parrot twice, once for starting an ice cube fight, and the second time for asking Postie (Mrs. W.R. Post, the original owner) for a "tumor" (a scoop of chocolate ice cream covered in cherry syrup). I seem to remember someone else (perhaps one of my aunts) claiming that my mother, in point of fact, asked for a "bleeding ulcer," but either way, it's pretty fucking funny, even if Postie didn't find it amusing.
The big event, of course, was Auntie Marge's 100th birthday, and it was a great time. Marge remembers everything and will not hesitate to correct you on some detail, however small. She remembers who your parents are, who THEIR parents were, when you were married, and how long you worked at any given job. Literally. She was treated like the STAR she is, with everyone clamoring to get a picture with her, although the most poignant ones were with the nieces and nephews, followed by her great-nephews and great-nieces, of which I am one.
lisamcc at 6:53 p.m.
4 comments so far
Mike
2005-07-31 04:09:24
Okay, I still don't don't know who some of those people are..... Fucking Catholics...
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Lisa
2005-07-31 08:11:03
Heh. Me neither. That's the thing, though - MARGE knows who everybody is!
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Gilgongo
2005-07-31 15:53:01
That is awesome. Your Great-Aunt rules!
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scottski
2005-08-01 19:01:28
i heart Missoula. and the Bitterroots. i do not heart the damned blackflies.
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