Holly Golightly in Breakfast at Tiffany’s called them the “mean reds;” when you’re scared of something, and you don’t know what you’re scared of. Well, I’ve been haunted all week by the mean reds, and I finally figured out why.
When I woke up this morning, I realized that it is 11 weeks to the day since I lost my wife Tamy to the relentless neurodegenerative disease called Progressive Supranuclear Palsy. What’s more, today is the day I planned to visit Gooseberry Falls State Park along Minnesota’s North Shore. I booked lodging about a month ago with the goal of revisiting a place that was sacred to Tamy and I. Ever since buying our first pop-up trailer in 2012, we camped in or around the “The Falls” no fewer than twice a year. We’d drive around, find a tiny scrap of land near Lake Superior, and we’d make that spot home for a few days.
During sunrise and sunset we’d chase the sweet light, and then embrace the lazy life with our dogs in the middle of the day. Our biannual vigil to the North Shore continued after we lost our first doodle, Sequoia, as well as throughout Tamy’s gradual decline. In October 2021, we pointed our camper van north, and camped at Gooseberry for the last time.
Gooseberry has been a sacred place for us. We’ve bathed in the falls, slipped on its icy pools during the dead of winter, picnicked under the stars, and shared our dreams about a future together. It is no wonder that I have been experiencing the mean reds, and I fear that this feeling may persist for a while.
About the Pictures…
Image #1 was made today around 5:00 PM. This is the “Middle Falls,” and it is a location that Tamy and I always found to be photographically interesting.
Image #2 is Luca. Luca is the last dog standing, she is my remaining companion, and when I see and hug her, I feel like I am still with Tamy.
Image #3 is one of my favorite photographs of Tamy and our dogs Sequoia and Luca. Sequoia holds a special place in our hearts, as she was our first dog.
Copyright 2023, All Rights Reserved, Bruce Leventhal