Reality Shmeality

Chapter Four

In the beginning, their passion for one another was something out of a corny romance movie. They were the only couple I have ever heard of that both brought each other flowers on the first date. I believe to this day that my name is Flower because of it.

Mom finished her penultimate year of art school and Dad arranged for some family friends to watch after Grandma so he could take Mom on a surprise road trip to Montreal for a long weekend. She loved speaking French and had been independently studying the language since middle school. She had never been to Canada, despite living so close, and was thrilled to finally speak French with a native speaker.

They hopped in Dad's 1971 Volkswagen Beetle that he had kept in excellent condition since buying it new in Miami. The car was Clementine Orange and named Gertrude. The sun was shining as Dad drove east along Lake Ontario. They left early on a Friday and traveled along Route 104 East until reaching Sodus Bay. They both ordered coffee and a bowl of fruit at Connie's Diner in Sodus Point. Dad opened up about his profession as an electrician and Mom gazed deep into his dark brown eyes as he talked about the time he beat Eric Clapton at arm wrestling.

From Sodus Point they continued east along the lake until they reached Oswego. Dad had surprised Mom by arranging a picnic with a mutual friend who was studying at the State University of New York in Oswego. Mom didn't even know that Dad knew Charles and was blown away by how much thought Dad had put into their little trip. After lunch, they continued toward the border of Canada, but Dad had another surprise stop at Grindstone Creek for an afternoon swim. Dad had gone there with his parents when he was young for weekend camping trips and loved the reflection of the sun on the lake while swimming in the creek.

They continued north along Route 3 in the direction of Watertown when Dad veered off course yet again for a walk along the rocks in the town of Henderson in what is now Robert Wehle State Park. The day was flying by and neither Mom or Dad had a care in the world. They could have never made it to Canada and that would have been fine with both of them. After Watertown, they traveled north along Route 81 and into the Thousand Island region of the Saint Lawrence River that creates the border of the US and Canada.

"I have some news. We aren't going to make it to Montreal until tomorrow because tonight we are staying in Smuggler's Cove at a small bed and breakfast. I hope you don't mind."

Mom leaned over and kissed him softly on the cheek and whispered that she loved him as they headed over the Thousand Island Bridge. Dad smiled and pointed out Constance and Georgia Island and welcomed her to Canada for the first time. She stuck her head out the window and smiled as the wind blew her blonde hair all over her face. When she stuck her head back in the car the two laughed as she imitated Cousin Itt from the Addams Family.

They checked in to the Hideaway Bed and Breakfast and spent the night sharing stories from Dad's travels. Mom pulled out a couple of canvases and they painted each other while Dad talked. He told her about the time he spent an evening writing haikus after eating mushrooms with Frank Zappa during his Australian tour of 1976. Mom wasn't as impressed with the list of acquaintances Dad had built over the years as she was with the places he had been. Though Mom had money growing up, her travels always happened to be in the US due to Papa's production schedule. She had always longed to travel abroad and was smitten with Dad's travel stories from around the globe.

They woke up with the sunrise and took a canoe to Bonnie View Island.

"This is perfect, William. We should visit all of the islands," Mom said ambitiously as water from her oars splashed across her sun-drenched face.

"Well that would be quite the feat considering there are close to 2,000 islands that make up the archipelago. We can stay if you'd like and rent a small cottage on the water. We can buy a kayak and see how long it takes." Dad was never shy to share his crazy ideas.

"What about your mom? She needs you. We have our entire lives ahead of us to visit all of the islands and beyond. Plus, we need to get to Quebec. I have always wanted to go to Montreal."

Dad smiled and they pushed the canoe back into the water from the rocks on Bonnie View Island and rowed back to the cove to grab their things and continue their journey to Quebec. They drove up the Thousand Islands Parkway with the sunlight bouncing on the water to their right. The first hour of the drive was quiet as they both took in the spectacular landscape and the early morning summer breeze swept through the open windows. Dad took a small detour from Route 2 and got on the Long Sault Parkway.

Dad pulled off on the side of the parkway so he could walk Mom to the southern point of Fraser Island. From there you could practically jump from Canadian land into American water, and he pointed out Croil Island and the Long Sault Islands across from them a country away. The water was so still it looked like a photograph and Dad taught Mom how to skip a stone along the surface. The next time Dad stopped the car was on the side of Route 401 at the division of Ontario and Quebec and he told Mom to walk into French-Canada. She took a few steps and breathed in the Quebecois air before turning around to speak to Dad who was still in Ontario.

"Bonjour mon amour, comment allez-vous?"

"Fine and dandy, my lady. How about we get back in ole Gertrude here and saddle up for the rest of the ride," he responded in an over-the-top southern accent.

She ran back across the border and jumped into his arms. He opened the door for her before driving the last leg of the journey. Mom giggled when she saw that just like that the signs were in French and that even the style of architecture had changed.

"It's like we drove through a portal into France," she proclaimed, taking it all in while never letting go of Dad's hand.

As they crossed over the Canal de Sainte-Anne-de-Bellevue, Dad welcomed her to the island of Montreal. He drove straight to the Old Port so they could explore the old city by foot. They spent hours taking in the old-style architecture, the narrow alleyways with cobblestone roads, and the street artists. Mom could have stayed all day watching the artists bring life to their canvases. Mom was curious where they were going to stay seeing as how the suitcase was still in the car and Dad had remained quiet about their accommodation.

"We should head back to the car. Where we are staying isn't exactly around the corner and we should get on the road sooner rather than later," Dad said as they strolled down Boulevard Rene-Levesque toward Gertrude.

He drove north along Route 15 and Mom finally asked where he was taking her as they passed through Saint-Jerome. "It's a surprise my love. Just enjoy the ride."

She leaned out the window as they passed through the different suburbs with the sunshine protruding through the endless pine and maple trees. Dad turned off the main road and they bounced along a dirt path as they entered the woods. A hand-carved wooden sign let Mom know that in 2.5 kilometers they would be arriving at La Petit Maison de la Foret, a quaint bed and breakfast that was set in ten acres of pine forest. The property had two rivers and a small waterfall and was a nature lover's paradise.

Dad arranged a picnic next to the river for dinner and they spent the evening drinking wine and talking about the future. The sunset was vibrant and they spent the evening under the stars in each other's embrace. I may have been born in the US but I was made in Canada.