Driving two ladies worth every mile

The woods and water beckon.

Even though the two ladies are in their late 80s, the lure of Wisconsin's north woods in the summer sings like the Siren songs of ancient mythology.

The urge to go is strong. And so we do.

I am their cab driver.

One of the ladies is my mother, Woody, who has traveled to this same northern lake for more than 68 years. The other is her dear friend, Vera, who has made the identical journey for 58 years. Rarely, has either missed a summer.

The two women met as brides in the early days of World War II and have been friends ever since; their lives intertwined by business, church, children, and, of course, the lake.

Both are widowed and due to various physical ailments including failing eyesight, they are no longer able to make the nearly 450 mile trip alone. When I made a spontaneous offer to be the designated driver, they delightfully accepted.

We took off early on a mid-summer morning in the midst of a soaking downpour. As I loaded the car with my mother's walker, thunder and lightning boomed and flashed round us.

"It only adds to our adventure!" said Vera, who at 87 years old, still plays golf and frequently whistles a merry tune.

My ladies are happy. They chatter the entire seven and a half hours that it takes to get us there. There is much reminiscing, especially since both families now have fifth generations coming up to this same lake.

They remember when the cabins were lit only by kerosene lamps, the wooden fishing boats ran on three and a half horse power motors, the trip took two days on gravel roads, and skunks, porcupines and bears were common sightings. But mostly they remember the traditions, funny moments and special times shared with the many friends and family peppered over six decades of togetherness on the lake.

"The best thing about a long car ride is the opportunity for a good visit," my mother said.

And over the many miles, that is exactly what they did. For this driver, no talk show on the radio could have been finer.

"Do you want to stay on the interstate or take the old way?" I ask.

"Oh, the old way!" exclaims Vera. "It's much more woodsy and beautiful."

And so I turned off on a two lane highway that weaves through familiar rural towns, fields studded with rolls of golden wheat, past faded red barns and cheery gardens. The ladies gazed out the window savoring every mile as the trees increase to forests and flashes of bright blue lakes sparkle their welcome.

As we neared our little log cabin in the woods, an almost palpable air of anticipation filled the car. The winding curves of the road and the leafy green tunnels of the arching trees began to take on a heartwarming familiarity.

Even though my mother's eyesight is greatly diminished, she could sense that we were almost there.

"Isn't this exciting Vera?" she asked.

"I'm just taking in all the old sights," Vera replied.

And finally, we made it. My gals were giddy as we opened the door to each little room of the cabin and finally entered the cherished porch overlooking the lake.

And then the fun began.

There was no sitting around in rocking chairs for these ladies. As if returning royalty had arrived, word soon spread they were at the lake, and the gals were off like a pair of social butterflies with me along for the ride.

If you have never ridden to a Wisconsin Friday night fish fry with five octogenarians in an '87 Oldsmobile station wagon, you've missed a joyride that would rival any teenagers'. The laughter and chatter never stopped.

And that was just the start. No effort was too great. The gals snatched every opportunity afforded them.

They made it down the many steps to the dock; they picnicked on the patio; they attended church, organized an afternoon bridge game, and dined on scrumptious grilled salmon at a dear friends' cabin all in one day.

Lake friends came calling on a continuous basis. We threw our own cocktail party for 19 friends, and when a guest played ragtime on our old upright piano, Vera grabbed my hand for a joyous spontaneous dance, such was her happiness.

On our last night, a friend generously took the ladies out on her pontoon boat so they could see the lake once more. It was especially hard for my mother to get into the boat, but she finally made it.

Coasting on the blue water in the shimmering sunlight of late afternoon light, the ladies took in all their beloved sights: the eagles' nest boasting two big babies, the loons bobbing, and the familiar islands that dot the water like emerald ships at sail.

As the warm wind blew across our faces, were Vera and Woody wondering if they'd ever pass this way again? Were memories of cherished friends and family, many of them now gone, washing over them like so many wavelets upon the shore?

All I know is that these ladies have never dwelt on "what ifs." Despite great heartbreak and sorrow in their lives and current physical struggles, they continue to savor the moment and to seek joy and optimism in everyday that God gives them.

Some say I was foolhearty to undertake such a trip, but as their cab driver, I hope I soaked up some wisdom. As my ladies would attest, it's always about the journey.

And my dance with Vera was worth every mile.