Drink Wisconsinbly
"Meet the family."It's never easy per se. It doesn't have to be hard, but it's no walk in the park. Yet here was Denise, in Sheboygan, meeting not just Mom and Dad and Lindsay, but the entire family. Aunts, uncles, cousins, and sort-of cousins.An inflexible vacation schedule meant that Denise would fly solo on the red-eye to Chicago, then hitch a ride to Sheboygan with Lindsay and her boyfriend Brian, who happened to arrive in Chicago at the same time.We awaited their arrival on a patio overlooking Pine Hills Country Club and the tee box where Mom and Dad celebrated their wedding reception. It was one of those perfect, Midwest summer days, with blues and greens bathed in sunlight.Up walked Denise, jet-lagged, speaking a language that wasn't hers. The family greeted her with arms open. Any "meet the family" jitters dissipated before the second round could be ordered.
The rest of the week was peak Wisconsin. Disc golf, cheese curds, outdoor concerts. All with beer in hand. "Drink Wisconsinbly" became the de facto mantra for the week, coinciding with an handful of "Drink Wisconsinbly" koozies I brought for the family. These got passed around on July 3rd as we watched Venetian Night from Lino's patio. The limoncello flowed liberally, as did the laughter. It all made for a woozy start to the Fourth of July. Of course, the 7:00am wake up call didn't help.The Freedom Run started at 7:30am. We kicked-off the Fourth with a fun run that's slowly becoming a family tradition. I decided on the two mile race. Denise did too. The ladies did the two mile walk. Standing at the start, waiting for the gun to go off, I looked at the guy next to me, my head throbbing, knees shaking. "I am so hungover right now," I said to no one in particular.Eleven minutes and forty four seconds later, I was back, this time with my stomach churning. Without any training, I managed to win my age group while finishing ninth overall. Obviously, alcohol only increases athletic performance. If only I had known that as a teenager.After a nap, we lived out the American holiday stereotype. Beers and brats and bocce ball and a few more beers. Denise, in her swimsuit, jumped in the lake. I, unprepared, stripped down to my skivvies and joined her. Lindsay and Brian watched from the beach.
That evening, we watched the best fireworks show in America. Tom and I concluded the festivities with a White Russian for CJ. The dude abides.Without realizing it, the Fourth of July has taken it's place in the pantheon of Robertson/Larson special family holidays; in the same league as Thanksgiving and Christmas. It's tinged with love and loss; joy for those who are there and a heavy heart for those who aren't.This year, it felt like the Robertson's grew up a little, with both Lindsay and I celebrating a family event with "significant others." Lindsay's very luck to have found Brian; a really nice, genuine guy who makes her happy. As for me? At one point during the weekend, Lindsay turned to me and said "Denise is too good for you." I smiled. "I know," I replied.