UM Commencement in 1983 with Patrick.
I got to thinking after my brother Patrick told me what sparked the name of the Flathead Lake Monsters, the band that will play at my weekend book gig. And yes, I’m excited to have Patrick and friends play at my Missoula event. When we were lining it up, he asked me, did you ever hear why the band got this name? He reminded me about the summer he was sailing on Flathead, one of his most favorite activities. It was windy and he knew he needed to get his boat out of the water. The rope caught up around his finger and in fact, he lost a bit of it “because of a terrible Flathead Lake monster.
“You are quite the monster creator!” I said. First, he terrorized his four younger siblings when we were kids, and later the next generation about “carp-holds” as he chased us while making fishy sucking sounds and attempted to claw under our armpits. (Not to mention steering me into a slough of stinky suckers while waterskiing as a child on the Willamette – yep, check that out in My Music Man.) Next it was nighttime Bigfoot stories he told Russ and my then terrified young daughters when we were, in fact, visiting Flathead Lake. He maintained that Bigfoot could in fact climb in through the windows. (Not that Montana has any greater number of Sasquash than Oregon.) Yet, I am reminded to be respectful of this brother since I continue to rely on him for family stories and memories, he being five years older than me. Oh, and I love him too.
So much of my writing is emotional, serious. I remind myself what a joy it is to also be silly. As I watch our wee grandson develop, his comedic chops and talents burst forth. So much silliness I remember from our own daughters, and as I peek back into some of my childhood memories. Oh, let us remember to be silly.
Patrick and I lived together my senior year of college in Missoula. He had finished his coursework at Portland’s Western States Chiropractic College, and was completing his preceptorship with a Montana Chiropractor. We lived in a two bedroom apartment just down the street from the Missoula Public Library: a place our dad loved to refer to as a slum. I claim Patrick became the top chiropractor he was by practicing on me that year. It was the same year I met Russ, my spouse, and so I must say, my relationship with Patrick was supported because I also spent a lot of time at my then boyfriend’s place.
Hello Russ!
I’m excited to spend several days in Missoula later this week, and share time with Patrick and other dear friends. These 45 years after first moving there as a 17 year old, I realize too how Missoula then felt like a beautiful, safe beginning of my adulthood. It’s not a surprise, as I look in my rear view window, to understand how its similarity then to LaGrande’s Grande Ronde Valley prompted my thinking about an easier time. Those 18 months in LaGrande when I was closer to nature and innocence than I might be in my later Portland high school days. A time when Dad and Mom were happy and secure, Dad happily involved in community and his dream editor job. And sober. Mom filled with hiking choices so near. These few years later in Missoula I learned independence and prioritized things important to me. Oh, and how Mom adored it here. A place exuding beauty and close friends. Yes, it’s nearly time for me to say again….Hello Montana!
Learn more about my Missoula book discussion. Thanks to Missoula Public Library and Fact & Fiction Books. Oh, I’ll make sure and tell some silly stories.
Patty loved to visit Missoula. Here she is during my graduation week: we always made time to hike nearby. And a few decades later she (and Dad) attended the commencement of our daughter Erin.
I’m smiling broadly not just because I graduated, but thanks to my involvement with the Montana Public Interest Research Group (MontPIRG). I got to know then President Neil Bucklew, a MontPIRG supporter, very well. So if you too have roots with MontPIRG, join us this Friday, April 19! Learn more.
Learn more about From First Breath to Last: A Story About Love, Womanhood and Aging
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