“The thing about a story is that you dream it as you tell it, hoping that others might then dream along with you, and in this way memory and imagination and language combine to make spirits in the head.” This quote from Tim O'Brien's book, Things They Carried. As O'Brien writes book about the Vietnam War, he tries to reinforce that storytelling is an act of love; it is a way for us to bring life to those who are no longer here. September 14th marks the day on which my cousin, Lisa Jarveis, would have turned 43. Dream along with me as I relay fourteen memories about her.
One toy that I always wanted as a kid but never got was a Sit 'N Spin, but Lisa had one. It was blue with the tell-tale rainbow swirl in the middle. I remember us both sitting on the Sit 'N Spin, one on either side, our legs straddling each other, so we could both be on it at the same time. We would spin and laugh until we were ready to puke, or until the person's legs on the bottom had become numb. Then, we would switch places and do it all over again.
When Erika was born, Mike and I asked Lisa and Jason to be her godparents. After baptism, everyone was back at our house on Quincy to have lunch. At the time, Erika was about a month old, and she was struggling with digesting formula. Long story short, right after eating, Erika would projectile vomit, and of course, that's what she did that day as well. I remember taking Erika back to her room to change her clothes, and Lisa quietly walked in behind me. Almost in tears, Lisa said, "What's wrong, Miss? Is she going to be all right?" When it came to kids, no one had a bigger heart for them, especially babies, than Lisa. I included this memory because I was touched that day by her empathy - tearful because my baby didn't feel well and wanting to know how she could help.
When Grandpa and Grandma Ryks first moved to town (Prinsburg), our uncle, Harvey, lived with them, and the basement must have been his domain. Anyway, there was a turntable down there, along with all of Uncle Harvey's disco records. I remember laughing and dancing as Lisa and I tried to figure out what the heck a "Hustle" was supposed to look like. Our favorite disco record was KC and the Sunshine Band; the orange shag carpeting completed the disco vibe for us.
As long as we're talking about Grandma's basement, there was a time when all four of us (Lisa, Brad, Ross, and I) were together, and it was time for lunch (the-farmer-schedule-3pm-midafternoon-snack-lunch). We decided to eat downstairs at the card table, and Grandma brought the food, including a freshly-made pitcher of grape Kool-Aid. While pouring up the juice, Lisa felt confident that it was a spill-proof pitcher and decided to test the laws of gravity by tipping the pitcher upside down. She was right. . .for about two seconds, and then, there was a purple flood. . .which trickled over the sides of table to the orange shag. It was not our best moment, but we all hustled to get the mess cleaned up.
As a kid, there was nothing better than playing in the grove. When Lisa's family moved to the "home" place, we cleared out parts of the grove, just west of the house. At the time, Harvey's raccoon "palace" still existed, but we were told we couldn't play in there. Instead, we removed the brush and sticks in several "pockets" of the grove to create a house with rooms. We even got a broom and swept the dirt of our "house." As most people know, the grove is usually a treasure trove of broken and cast-off pieces of household crap. This was true for us as well, so we spent lots of time scouring the grove for broken plates, old frying pans. . .whatever junk we could use to make our "house" better.
For my 30th birthday, Mike, Lisa, Jason, and I all went to Stillwater to take a river cruise. We had dinner aboard the paddleboat and listened to a Dixieland Jazz band while cruising the Mississippi. Since our lives had gotten so busy with our kids, it was nice to be able to spend a little time together, so it's a special memory for me.
Every once in a while, Lisa and I would get to have a sleepover. It was more fun at Lisa's house because she had a huge queen-sized bed. I remember very distinctly, lying side-by-side, whispering late into the night. As the night went on, the deeper and darker secrets would be revealed with a solemn promise that went something like this, "I'm going to tell you this, but you can't ever tell anybody." This was the closest moment I have ever had with regard to having a sister. Even to this day, there are things that Lisa told me that I have never revealed to anyone.
As far as I know, Lisa never wore blush. Did you know that? Since she was a Mary Kay dealer for a long time, I would occasionally buy stuff from her, and one day, I asked her what kind of blush I should buy - creme or powder. She explained that she didn't know because she never wore any. She said she didn't like it because it looked fake. Random, I know, but I thought it was interesting.
Another toy that Lisa had that I coveted for a long time was the Barbie Dream House. You know the one. . .with an elevator and multiple floors. It was the bomb. Every time I was over there, I wanted to play with the thing because I was a Barbie girl, hard-core. While Lisa was fine with playing Barbies, she was a baby doll girl. She loved and loved her babies. I guess she was preparing for her career and greatest passion, motherhood. Sidebar: My mom and dad made me my own Barbie Dream House and furniture, which I received somewhere around 1978-80 for Christmas. I still have it, and my children have never been allowed to play with it.
One Christmas, Lisa and I were at her house when they lived on the home place. We usually celebrated with the Ryks bunch on Christmas Day. After eating and opening gifts, we were bored and went outside. Her dad (I think) had just bought a brand-new snowmobile, so after getting the green light to use it, we took off - she was driving, and I was behind her. If you knew Lisa at all, the word, "slow," was not a part of her driving vocabulary, so naturally, she had that throttle mashed wide-open as we jetted across the plowed field. The same was true on the return trip to the yard, only as we were headed toward the driveway, she didn't slow down. . . at all. I don't know if she didn't see it, or what, but we hit the driveway approach at full speed. . .and were full-on, Dukes-of-Hazzard airborne for a bit. We landed hard, and by an act of God, we didn't flip. As we stopped to catch out breath, neither of said a word, looked at each other, and burst out laughing. When we ran into the house to tell the adults what we had done, no one believed us. We still laughed about this incident in later years.
Back in the day, the Ryks children were subjected to an annual activity that occurred at the very buttcrack of summer. . .swimming lessons. Usually, our parents would book lessons for us at the Renville pool during the first or second week of June. Did I mention that the Renville pool was an outside pool? The first week of June was brutal because the water was ice-cold, it rained often, and we would have them in the morning or around noon. Anyway, Lisa and I had a hard-core crush on one of the lifeguards/instructors; his name was Shawn Grabow, and even in June, he had a deep Coppertone tan and feathery David Cassidy hair. One of the tasks we would have to complete in order to move to the next lesson level was jumping off the high dive. Honestly, there was no logical reason we had to do this if we are talking about swimming lessons, but that was what we had to do. Confession: Lisa and I would pretend that we were scared to jump off so that Shawn had to climb the ladder and "threaten" to push us off. It was so silly, but we loved the attention because he was hott. Ha!
My memory is faulty with regard to the actual vehicle involved with this next memory. The car I most associate with Lisa is the minty greenish Caprice Classic; she beat the poop out of that guy, so I am going to say this incident happened with that car. Anyway, one night when I was out on a date with Mike, we spotted Lisa and Amy, and so we started a game of chase on the side streets of Willmar. We were ripping around the corners at a pretty good clip on the southwest side - over by Redeemer Lutheran Church; it was all in fun. However, it's all fun and games. . .until a cop is involved. While we got away, Lisa was pulled over. I can't say if she got a ticket or not, but I can tell you this. The next morning, bright and early, the phone rang at my house. It was Lisa. "Hey, you know what happened last night?" she asked. "Can we keep that to ourselves?" (Translation: I don't want my mom and dad to find out.) I think it's safe to spill the beans on that one now. ;)
Even though we weren't sisters, there are three months between us, and there were some connections between the two of us that were more than coincidental. For example, my name, Melissa, was a name that had been seriously considered for Lisa as well. My mom and dad didn't find that out until later. Later, the name, Gretchen, was on my list for any girl children we might have, and Lisa named her firstborn Greta (a lovely name with a strong heritage). I don't know if I ever told Lisa about that. When our son was born, we named him Nicholas, which was also Lisa's number one choice of a boy's name.
Number 14 is a memory that I can't share but am so thankful for. On March 16, 2012, I drove out to see and chat with Lisa. By divine appointment, we were alone in the house, so we were able to talk about whatever we wanted to, and we did. For about two hours, we chatted, cried, laughed, and discussed. Had I known then what was about to transpire, I would have stayed much longer. Even so, I am thankful for the time we had.
Every time I think about her, it's like enjoying the warmth of a favorite sweater then pulling a thread and unraveling a sleeve. The memories make it feel as though she is still here, but there are so many questions. In any case, I am thankful for the memories, and there is joy and comfort in knowing that she is spending her birthday in the best possible place.
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