My best friend, Raemi, is the author of the Martha’s Vineyard Murders book series. Her latest, Deadly Tides – “The best of an excellent series,” according my dad, a prolific mystery reader – was released a month or so ago and I read it, because obviously, and also because she has taken to unduly thanking me in the acknowledgements and I’m an egomaniac who likes to see my own name. Like this:
A situation unfolded this weekend while I was on a hockey trip in Wisconsin. In the spirit of my desire to somehow connect the above dedication to a set of circumstances at which Raemi was not present, I feel the best way to communicate this story is through my own acknowledgements section.
IN ACKNOWLEDGEMENT
Thank you to the minivan behind me for not honking when my car 100% completely shut down in the turn lane the moment the stoplight turned green. When my fifteen-year-old – who had only recently earned his license and never had to wave someone by, especially without working windows – leaned out the open door and gestured wildly to go around, you went around, and the vehicle behind you went around, and the vehicle behind them went around. Also, thank you to the fourth car who waited for me to go once I got my car restarted. You didn’t really have a choice because once that sucker fired up I was 100% completely moving even though I was 100% completely unaware of my surroundings, but I appreciate it all the same.
Thank you to my coworker, who once told me, “Sometimes good parenting is just not freaking out.” When my car 100% completely shut down in the turn lane with my own fifteen-year-old son and his fourteen-year-old teammate in the car, I remembered your sage advice and said aloud, “Oh, ha ha, the car stopped working! Lean out the door and wave those people past us, would you? Ha ha!” Instead of what was actually going through my head, which I cannot type here. I had some new, albeit similar words, also go through my head when I called Kyle mid-shutdown and he did not answer, after which I said, “Oh, ha ha, who else should I call if not Kyle? The police? Wait, that can’t be right. How did I do things before Kyle? Ha ha!”
Thank you to Kyle for calling me back. and for finding a Honda service center in Wisconsin and forcing them to look at my car, and for calling our regular mechanic in Grand Forks when the mechanic in Wisconsin told me that my car needed a new transmission.
Thank you to the Wisconsin Honda service center for teaching me the name of a car part: Dog clutch.
Thank you to the hockey parents for doing as hockey parents do and taking care of things, including getting Fifteen and Fourteen to the hockey game so I could go to the service center, and searching my VIN in the rain to see if there were any recalls on the dog clutch, and sending me a screenshot of the class-action lawsuit against Honda related to dog clutches, and reading the service report and listening to our Grand Forks mechanic’s thoughts on faulty dog clutches and determining as a group that I could probably drive back to Grand Forks with a faulty dog clutch. And especially thank you to Andrea and Beth, who said, “Amanda, you wouldn’t call the police; you would call us,” when I lamented that I had completely forgotten how to take care of myself when my car 100% completely shut down at a light with two children in the car. Andrea and Beth also checked in with me on my drive back to Grand Forks, which was much appreciated.
Thank you to my parents for skipping the start of the game to sit at the service center with me while I sat slumped in a chair complaining that my Honda was, like, two payments away from being paid off. Thank you to my parents for booking a hotel room in a town adjacent to their own town so that they could drive behind me from Wisconsin to Minneapolis to make sure my dog clutch would survive at high speeds. Thank you to my parents for calling me along the way. Thank you to my parents for offering to come and get me “as far as Alexandria [author’s note: midway between Minneapolis and Grand Forks] and then it’s Kyle’s turn.” Thank you to my mother for the banana bread with an impressive amount of chocolate chips. And no thank you (but thank you) to my dad for continuously, embarrassingly shouting the name of a player on the opposing team so as to lighten the mood during the game prior to our departure. I was still nervous to get in the car, but less so.
Thank you to Fifteen and Fourteen for driving around in the dog-clutched car the entire weekend and saying things like, “How long will it take for us to push the car back to Grand Forks?” and “Now you can get a car that actually looks cool.”
Thank you to Jane, my Honda, for making it all around Wisconsin and back to Grand Forks. I would like to get you fixed up and continue driving you, but Kyle has started sending me ads for Subarus and Toyotas so I guess that’s out. I will honor your memory by test driving 7,000 vehicles before buying another Honda (my fourth).
And thank you to Raemi, who had absolutely nothing to do with this, for being the beautifulest person I know. I love and miss you a million.
The photo above is of my Honda and me.
This week on North Dakota Today we talked about the books up for vote to represent North Dakota, as well some helpful hands (and pumpkins) in Jamestown. (Valley News Live)
Here’s the first bit of my recent column in the Grand Forks Herald:
Cancer has a way of making a person feel like the loneliest member of a large club. Even for those surrounded by the very best family, friends, coworkers and community, there are still moments when it seems no one quite understands what someone is going through. Sometimes, what a person needs most isn’t another medical explanation; it’s another individual who can hold their hand and say, “Yep. Me too.”
That’s what makes a cancer support group so special. It is a place to truly answer the question, “How are you doing?” It’s a place to cope with the side effects of treatment. It’s a place to work through practical problems, like balancing work and personal care. It’s a place to communicate fear, anger, and sadness.
For three days next week, relayers will run 480 miles for Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day. (Grand Forks Herald)
Mandan’s Bowen and Bridger sure love the bus. (KFYR TV)
Here’s an awesome fact: North Dakota keeps a register of champion trees (and I think I’d better talk about this on TV). (Bismarck Tribune)
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