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thedaveandkimmershow · 4 months

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Inevitably, we couldn't keep up our schedule. We couldn't keep going to bed after midnight and still keep getting up at 7.

Or 8.

So on the morning of our last full day, we woke up a little after ten. Which is apparently the amount of sleep we needed.

Go figure.

We do have a pair of plans for the day. Three, actually. The first is to get up early.

Epic fail. 😕

The second's still in front of us. And the third is our final dinner with my aunt and uncle, marking the conclusion of this trip.

The second part of our plan I mentioned previously is a visit with my friend who was an exchange student during my senior year of high school. He's the only one of us in choir who went on to pursue a professional career in musical theater. And he's still doing that.

The last time we saw each other was in Seattle. We were walking the arterial on the east side of Lower Queen Anne, talking about our present, imagining our future.

I remember feeling a connection with him, a professional and personal one because both aspects of our lives seemed to be in sync with each other.

That was 2007. Definitely fewer years ago than the twenty-plus years since I saw my cousins last.

The funny thing's that the last I saw my friend... was in an old high school photo of us on Facebook. An old high school photo of us at prom.

We were sixteen.

So that's the image of him I have in mind as we wait for him to arrive.

12:10pm he swings his car in front of our hotel. I've come down to greet him alone because Kimmer's still getting ready.

When we greet, it's both awesomess and sadness. Awesomeness because our friendship endures across decades. Sadness because the first thing I need to express is my sorrow for his loss. The loss of his lifetime love, November 3 of last year. Pancreatic cancer. Less than three weeks from abdominal pain to death. And my friend...

My friend was there to the last breath.

So I express my sorrow for what happened. I express my sorrow for his loss and that I can't imagine it.

He tells me that friends are asking him how he's doing. And he tells them, he always tells them,

"I have no idea."

Which makes sense, of course. It makes sense that if the person you love most in the world dies... you should be wrecked. You should be despondent. You shouldn't know the answer to What's next?

Why?

Because that's the price we pay for committing everything we are to another human being across decades.

It's the price of two becoming one... and then becoming separated.

It's the price we pay...

For a time.

It would be weird, actually, if that wasn't so. It would be weird if we just picked up and moved on.

So loss is where my friend and I start.

We do move on, of course. We move on to his return to musical theater. A long story, at one point he was burnt out by the cold calculations of large corporations where there are no relationships. Only numbers. And pieces on the board.

Since then, the only musical theater gig was a local production, the size of which guaranteed a warm sense of teamwork. A definite feeling of artists embarking on a quest. Together.

Now that... was wonderfully fulfilling.

And worth it.

Recently he was called for a part in an upcoming musical performance about the German occupation of Holland.

He jumped at the chance.

He jumped at it because this is what's next. An invitation, an open door to immerse himself in the profession he's loved since we performed "Kiss Me Kate" in high school as teenagers.

A chance to work with new people pursuing new challenges.

To turn the page.

By this point, Kimmer comes down, gives him a huuuuge hug, and tells him how deeply sorry she is. As we get into the car and hit the road, we end up replaying some of what we already talked about. That's okay, though. Our lives are crafted from good and bad. And it's in the sharing of these experiences that we strengthen our bonds with the people we're closest to, the people we love. It's in the sharing of these experiences that we continue to move forward and grow.

Our destination's in a nearby, picture-perfect (albeit rainy), medieval town fifteen minutes away, the place we choose to catch each other up, take each other in, and workshop a sneak peek at what's to come.

After parking the car, we stroll a bit, indulge an easy walk 'n talk until we reach our first stop: a coffee shop.

Unfortunately the place is packed so we pivot to our second stop which we intended for lunch and, fortunately, where they also serve coffees, teas, and lattes.

It's here that we spend most of our time, first at a table for two that we outfit for three because that's what's left... later moving to a table for four along the wall as soon as it opens up.

Hour-and-a-half later, it's time to go. My friend has a two hour drive ahead of him so the afternoon, this reunion, can't go on much longer.

There is, however, room for it to be longer by just a little bit. So we head in the opposite direction of where we're parked, intending to loop back at some point. In the meantime, we're conducting a little window shopping and photography.

Okay a lot of photography.

My friend, of course, is a musical theater professional... so he's never at a loss to pose in front of something. Anything. In fact, if you want, he'll give you several poses to choose from. He's quite willing. 😁

By 'n by, we loop back and find ourselves in a store my friend characterizes as a place where "they don't have anything you need". It's all pure want. Definitely an eclectic and sometimes risque inventory of party supplies, vacation souvenirs, and gifts of all kinds from gag gifts to white elephants to stuff maybe you should never show your parents.

It's that kind of store.

Of the three of us, I'm the one who lags behind, finally emerging from the store where my friend's waiting and Kimmer's half a block down the lane taking pictures.

Continuing on our way, we stop inside the base of a tower where... well, ummmm... no idea what's going on there.

But we did take pictures, whatever that was.

Another block or so and my friend's flagged down by some random guy who asks him if he was carrying a bag at the restaurant where we had lunch... and then tells him our waitress found it and is holding onto it for him.

Holy. Cow.

Timing, right?

🤨

And since we've been walking a loop, we're less than a block from the restaurant at this point. So we go back, pick up the bag from the super helpful and friendly staff, and continue on our way.

Back on that street with the store that doesn't carry anything we need, we come across another store that actually might carry something we need. In this case, bubble wrap. You see, we need bubble wrap for some of the items we're bringing home in our carry-ons.

The store, though, doesn't have bubble wrap and, on prompting, the shopkeeper points us in the direction of a place that might. Go back the way we came, take a right onto the immediate side street, and there it'll be.

And there it was once we followed the directions. Kind of an upscale Dollar Tree if you can imagine that. The space is well-organized and maintained with a broader, much broader inventory. And, of course, nothing there was a dollar. But everything was discounted. So...

Cool.

Once inside, we find the bubble wrap easily. All it takes is to ask a store employee. This is also where my cousin's gonna get an extra piece of carry-on luggage for us because we've got waaaay too many extra goodies to fit into the luggage we brought with us, the luggage that's already full. So we're in the luggage aisle looking at what they've got that fits the dimensions KLM/Delta set for carry-ons. Sure enough, these are the ones we want. Before we buy one, though, I call my cousin on WhatsApp just in case she picked it up already. No, she says, and then presses me and then Kimmer to let her buy it for us even though we're standing right here, right now.

Still, it seems important to her do this for us so I let her know where it is in the store and we make our way back out the door, down the street, until we reach the car.

Except no.

We don't reach the car.

Okay we did leave the store and we were walking toward the car. We just weren't exactly where we thought we were.

Which is how we wound up at a windmill.

Yup. A windmill.

Classic. 😊

Now, this whole week we haven't seen much of the windmills I remember from my childhood. I did see some modern ones that are all blades and massive. So this is a much-appreciated opportunity we're indulging.

Right away I'm taking pictures while Kimmer and my friend walk up to the entrance. By the time I reach the door (still taking pictures), they've had a pretty good look around the ground floor and my friend's about to buy a bag of flour or pancake mix from a woman I assume to be the windmill's caretaker.

Just then, curiosity strikes me and I ask if the caretaker actually lives above us. My friend translates the question and learns that, no, the caretaker doesn't actually live in the windmill. It's basically storage above our heads. Also, the caretaker is not as much "caretaker" as she is a traditionally Dutch dressed shopkeeper.

By the way, continues the explanation, you can have a look upstairs if you want.

Huh?

Yup. My friend heard that right. We can go up the ladder to the space above to have a look around. What's more... there's no charge. No entrance fee. So, carefully, one at a time, we climb the ladder, grasping the wooden rail firmly, until we reach the level above.

Here's what we realize immediately:

This is not the "upstairs". This is another level of the windmill. The second floor. So, after poking around a little, taking pictures as is our habit, we climb the next ladder to the third floor.

The third floor, by the way, is the floor on which you can step out onto the deck that circles the windmill. There's only a section of the deck you can wander freely, though, maybe a third or a fourth of its total circumference which is just as well. Otherwise you'd get hit by the blades of the windmill that are moving much faster up here than I thought from down below, farther away.

Much faster.

You can actually hear the blades being buffeted, spun by the wind. It's a helluva thing.

Back inside the third level, we climb one last ladder to the fourth floor where we can directly see what those blades are really doing. Up here are the gears being turned by the movement of those blades. To either side of the mechanism are two separate grinding apparatus. Right now, the one I'm looking at is not connected to the main gear. But pull the other one back, push this one in, and you're in business.

There's also another employee up here attending to the workings of these gears. They explain how all this works to a dad and his two boys who, by 'n by, followed us up here.

After observing what happens on the top level of the windmill, we're on our way back down the ladders—carefully... carefully—and I'm paying attention to anything that connects what's being ground on the top level to any of the levels below. I don't catch anything obvious but I've gotta believe windmill designers wouldn't create an architecture in which workers have to lug heavy bags of grain or flower three awkward floors down by ladder. So either there's a way to lower those bags from the outside of the windmill... or there are chutes between all four levels allowing grain to slide all the way down to be bagged on the ground floor.

I choose to let this be a mystery for me right now.

🤨

By the time our adventure is through, it's after four in the afternoon and my friend's really gotta hit the road. He has us back by 430 where it's strong embraces all around and immense appreciation for this moment in time, these four hours, in which we got to be part of each other's lives again, living, exploring, having fun and laughs, talking about our pasts, our presents, and what we're planning for our futures.

For the two of us, my friend and I took a detour from our regularly scheduled programming. A great time was had just now and, up ahead, there's a major musical production for him that'll last two to three years, an all-consuming full-time job into which he'll throw everything that he is. As an intellectual doubling down, I suggest to him that he blog about the experience, tell his story of returning to the big stage in the most epic way I can think of. To turn his undivided attention into the full experience and, in so doing, share with family and friends (and fans) this next chapter of his life.

My friend objects at first because he says he's not a writer but I assure him that this is nothing but telling a friend what happened that day. Nothing more, nothing less. Over beers, if he likes. 😉

I hope he does the blog, by the way. I really do.

I'd love to experience this next phase of his life, even at a distance.

And with that (along with a few more showing off his car photographs), my friend jumps back into his ride and drives off into the next act of his life.

Okay so we had a plan.

We had a plan to walk to my aunt and uncle's for dinner. It's to be a lovely, leisurely, photo-op experience regardless of the weather.

Except now the weather's doing an arctic thing and the temperature's slipped maybe ten degrees from where it was. Which means yeah.

Our fingers are freezing.

Seriously.

Freezing.

530 I'm thinking we're leaving soon if our plan includes arriving at my aunt and uncle's place at 6. I won't lie. We no longer wanna walk. Heck, we don't even want to be outside anymore. So I call my cousin to ask when she's leaving for her parent's place and she tells me she's already there. Followed by Do you want a ride?

Yes please, I say. ☺️

She offers to send her husband over in fifteen minutes which is very generous of her. 😉

And like that we're at my aunt and uncle's home by 6. 😁

We're not the first ones here. We're not the last ones, either. My aunt and uncle are here, of course. My aunt's sister who we've not yet met is here. Now, we've met her sister's husband this week already. I previously spotted a photograph of the two of them on their wedding day... so it's lovely to finally meet her in person. She's essential, you see, to why her husband, who's from England, is in Holland in the first place.

And why he never left. ☺️

My aunt whose home we visited Tuesday evening is here. As well as my cousin, her husband, and daughter.

And then us. 🙂

First thing: my cousin presents us with the extra piece of carry-on luggage she bought for us, the one we're gonna need because we were gifted with sooooo many packages of baked goods by family in the last few days.

However.

My cousin filled most of the new carry-on with new packages of baked goods courtesy her and her husband as well as presents from our niece. For me. For us. For Linzy.

Don't get me wrong. I absolutely adore the thinking here. It's just the logic that doesn't flow. 😭

Tonight's dinner is the dinner of the week. Home-cooked, as are they all. There's saté with pinda sauce (peanut sauce). There's mashed potatoes and brussel sprouts (mixed together). There's meatballs in sauce. There's noodles. There's rice. There's sauerkraut with sliced kielbasa. And for a culinary plot twist, if you wanna smooth out the flavor of the sauerkraut, like, a lot... there's peaches in syrup.

The sauerkraut on its own, by the way, is unexpectedly sweet. It's one of those foods that doesn't actually taste like it sounds. 🤨

By the time we're well into all this deliciousness, more family shows up. My cousin from Rotterdam, his wife, and their Labradoodle turn up. It's an unexpected bonus because my cousin was on call for a night shift the previous night and I thought we might not see each other after that. Fortunately, he and his team weren't needed and he wound up with a full night's sleep. 😁

Later still, their eldest daughter shows up with one of her twins in tow. My aunt's sister's husband (her brother-in-law) shows up. And then, finally, my nephew, whose parents and sister are already here, walks in the door.

A quick word about my nephew:

Turns out right now in his life he's thinking about the profession of video production for his career. The first time we met earlier in the week, Monday night, we talked a little about that. We talked specifically about what makes each of us stand out from other professionals who are pretty much using the same gear. We talked about what we see, how we see it, and what that implies about how we should express it.

As an example, we watched our family in the room with us. Our family, people for whom body language can be their primary language. Whose body language and facial expressions tell you almost everything you need to know. Even the youngest of us share this way of "speaking". So we talk about what all that nonverbal language is communicating even without knowing what's being said.

The conversations we're observing, by the way, are moving around the room. Sometimes it's two people speaking directly with each other. But that can quickly branch to three people who aren't sitting next to each other, speaking across the room. At one point, three family members, each sitting in front of different walls of the living room, are speaking across and diagonally across the room with each other in a triangle while other conversations happen all around them.

And then the kids.

The twins occasionally, physically become part of the conversations among their mom, my cousin, and my aunt. Their older sister, however, insists on her phone.

Fast forward to the following day and the older sister's on TikTok with her cousin, my niece, engaged in hardcore lip syncing. She's definitely got that in-your-face stage presence.

So I suggest to my nephew that, as an exercise, he figures out what's most compelling about that performance, capture it on camera, edit it, and post it. And since this is family who looooves to perform, chances are he'll have a lot of opportunities to block and film the performance over and over before anyone even gets remotely tired of it.

That's the theory, anyway.

🤨

My nephew isn't feeling that great on this last night, so he arrived late to the party. Which actually works out, this unintentional staggered arrivals. You see, the dining room table doesn't have room for all of us who show up. So as people finish, as people arrive, they rotate in and out of the dining room. Which is super helpful.

When my cousin's husband eventually turns up, he mentions reading my blog and how he subscribed to my Tumblr account to read it.

He enjoys the detail, by the way, prompting me to explain that I can barely hold onto that level of detail for twelve hours. Maybe more with time-stamped photographs, my Maps timeline, and notes written on the fly. Otherwise I lose that detail. All of it. And it's as if the events I can no longer remember...

Never happened.

And that won't do.

I also mention that in years with overwhelmingly negative events, it's helpful to have evidence that, in fact, not every single day of those years was a downer. It's lovely to have reminders of the good in our lives, the laughter and love in our days, that might not otherwise exist were it not for documenting them in this way.

While I'm talking to my cousin's husband, my cousin's oldest daughter is telling her grandmother, my aunt, that she went to the Eftling amusement park and took her oldest daughter on an intense rollercoaster ride. No sooner does she mention this than she whips out her phone and we're all watching that ride from the front of the coaster looking straight at massive hills, nail-biting stops, and epic drops.

Crazy stuff.

🤯

By 'n by, I wander into the living room where my cousin's husband, my nephew, and my uncle have taken up residence.

First order of business is figuring out our early morning departure because my cousin and her husband have graciously offered to give us a ride to the airport. Given that our flight leaves at 10:30am and common wisdom suggests getting to the airport three hours in advance because you just never know... my cousin's husband suggests a 630 pickup at the hotel.

With all our luggage.

I tell him if he can figure out a 725am pickup that still gets us to the airport by 730... we've got a deal.

He tells me that's possible only if my other cousin's driving.

With his company car. 🤣🤣🤣

Now while this conversation's going on and another is happening between my nephew and uncle just a few feet away, one of the twins has taken to walking from one end of the room to the other, always in-between us. Not sure what she's up to but every time she does this...

Okay. What you should know is that behind me on my left near the Christmas tree and dining room entrance is a plush Christmas dog toy that plays the first two stanzas of Santa Claus Is Coming To Town when you hit the button. And every time—every time—the twin walks from one end of the room to the other, she hits the button.

Second time she does this, I choose to sing along. Which maybe, probably, not sure... makes her keep walking and hitting the button. Which makes me keep singing along.

After a while, she's out of the room and my cousin's husband places the dog waaaaaay up high where our little instigator won't see it. At which point it disappears from her awareness.

Mission. Accomplished.

He didn't have to hear me sing that song again.

😉

When there's a break in the conversation between my nephew and uncle, I pull up a chair next to my nephew to share a coupla videos from my reel. The first is a high-speed adrenalin rush. The second is a boxing profile, the point of which is to show him a coupla different engines that can drive your edits: music and action. Those aren't the only engines, of course. Neither are they mutually exclusive. They do represent strategies you can use, though, when you're cutting against the clock, when you've got a super tight deadline. I even suggest to him that once he shoots and cuts the music video with his niece and sister, he wait a month and then cut his footage again but against a deadline to see how that influences his work.

And the point of me telling you this?

Because that was the first advice I gave as an uncle. Like, ever.

🥳🥳🥳

Coming up on 830, my niece has gotta jet to a friend's housewarming party. Now the thing I haven't said about her is that she's the reason we're here. She's the reason we pulled the trigger on this trip to Holland on a Wednesday, flying out on the following Sunday morning. Because she wrote us a letter.

A letter?

Yeah. She wasn't sure we knew about her grandfather's declining health. It's a kind of now or never letter that never explicitly states now or never... but the implication's all over the place. Kimmer got the message immediately. Me, not so much even though the letter's written in perfect English with perfect handwriting.

So yeah. I didn't pick up on the message inside her message and wanted to ask her about it... which is how I now know what she meant when she wrote her letter to us.

Now.

Or never.

My niece is 21, by the way. It's a crappy thing that she had to write a letter like that. But we are proud of her and hugely thankful that she did. 😁😁😁

Afterward, her dad takes her to the train station after fare-thee-wells all around, this being the last time we see her.

Walking back into the living room, I'm struck by the chaos of conversation coming from the dining room. Since I'm not sitting at the table there, my brain's not processing the individual streams of conversation... so from my current distance, it's mashing them together and yeah.

It sounds like chaos.

Trust me, though. Our brains really can manage those different streams of conversation in real-time. In fact, the other night at the restaurant with maybe twenty of us at the same table, my ear caught something in Dutch from further down the table to which I commented in English, immediately returning to the conversation in front of me yet still catching a comment down the table that "he understands Dutch".

Yeah.

Totally doable. 🙂

A little later, my aunt whose home we visited the other night gets up to leave so I walk her out to her car.

Why?

Because I'm intentionally extending the amount of time I spend with each family member as I can. Even if it's just walking somewhere. Plus, I want to thank my aunt for her hospitality the other night. It really was an unexpected and lovely evening catching up with her at her home, enjoying the teas and baked goods she offered, looking at photographs, helping her call my dad to wish him a Happy Birthday, finishing the pear juice and the apple juice she bought for us that are made in her village, and then all the driving she did to get us around that evening including a return trip to my aunt and uncle's place where Kimmer left her phone in the living room.

Whoops.

Near the end of our walk my aunt asks me

"Are you glad to go home?"

The answer surprises me.

"Not really. It's nice to visit with everyone, sure. But because they're here and I'm there, I don't get much time with them, really. So each moment I get to spend with them is actually very precious."

I didn't actually think of that until then...

But it's true.

It's absolutely true.

Back at my aunt and uncle's place, the oldest daughter of my cousin who took us to Rotterdam the day before was leaving to pick up her other two kids. Behind her, the living room's reconfigured with her dad, her grandmother's brother-in-law, her grandfather, and her parent's dog, the kind of dog people who don't like dogs... will love.

For some reason, at this very moment, the living room conversation's about traffic roundabouts in Paris and Holland as well as the right-of-way regulations applying to both. The conversation then evolves to include the difference in right-of-way regulations as applied to existing Dutch roundabouts versus the brand-new ones. Which then turns into a discussion on how rotten drivers are in Belgium... and why. Which then turns into a Q&A about the right-of-way rules in Holland versus America. Which is how I got roped into the discussion.

Seriously.

I have no idea how this ride started. It just keeps going and going and going.

So I give it a coupla more beats before easing over to the dining room table where I join a conversation with Kimmer, my aunt, my cousin, and her daughter, my niece.

Why did I join it?

The question is more How did I join it.

Basically by sitting down at the table, it turns out.

That's not the only conversation in town at this table, of course, because my cousin who took us to Rotterdam and his oldest daughter who's just returned from picking up her other two kids are sitting at the end of the table caught up in their own conversation.

Over in the middle, we're talking about our kids which is funny. Because one of someone's kids is sitting right there at the table. Fully prepared to fact-check anything spoken by her mom. 🤣🤣🤣

Which definitely makes things interesting.

After that, the conversation broadens. My parents in the United States. A little about the history of our family, here, sitting around the table. We talk personality types. We do an interesting riff on the chaos of our conversations versus batting around a single topic in turns, much like crowds keep beach balls aloft during rock concerts: one at a time.

We talk about the occasional get-togethers of family here in Holland. And then it's time for my cousin from Rotterdam and his wife (and their Labradoodle) to go home.

I walk with them to their car. Along the way we talk about radiation treatment and how long it takes to recover from the effects of it. We talk about how Kimmer 'n I showed up at the start of Week 3 which is fortunate because most people pop back from radiation after two weeks. We talk about last wishes, final trips, home, resources, and contingencies. We talk about it because even though we're in the opposite direction, in the States, we're committed to providing whatever help we can provide as it's needed. Full stop.

End of sentence.

We say goodbye one last time...

And then they're on their way home.

Back at my aunt and uncle's place, I run into Kimmer, who's seeing my aunt's sister and brother-in-law to the door. We talk a little pandemic. I touch on the wedding photos I saw of the two of them. And then it's fond farewells all around with a quick round of it was really nice to meet you. 😊

They in turn wish us a safe flight home as they head home themselves.

Now we're on the clock.

What we just agreed on is that, as it's getting late and we've got to pack our sure-to-be overstuffed luggage tonight before we go to bed, we're gonna head out with my cousin and her husband just as soon as she finishes her drink.

With that in mind, I get ready to say goodbye to my uncle.

For the last time.

When the moment's in front of me, there are really only three things I want to tell him. So I kneel next to his chair, lean in, and tell him those three things.

That he and my aunt should be proud of their beautiful family (4 generations!).

That I'm thankful to have him as my uncle.

Then I lean in further to hug him... and say this beside his ear:

"I love you."

Afterward, I stand up and move next to Kimmer. My cousin, who by now has finished her drink, steps over to my uncle and asks him in Dutch if he understood what I said.. to which he answers yes.

And then he says

"Wanneer komen ze terug?"

When are they coming back?

Kimmer quickly answers with a six months to a year. To which my uncle says

"Have a safe flight."

I give my aunt a hug and a kiss and we're away, with my cousin and her husband followed by my nephew... with my other cousin's oldest daughter and her three girls behind us.

At the cars, my cousin's oldest daughter manages a quite confident "See you later!" in English. HUZZAH!!! Nailed it.

Then she and her girls are away.

Just as we are.

Having left my aunt and uncle's home a little after 10:30, we're back at the hotel a few minutes later, all of us getting out of the car for the final plan on the next morning's departure schedule that, given how late it is already, boils down to, as my cousin's husband aptly puts it:

"See you in a few hours."

Ugh.

He's not wrong.

😐

What happens next is a Master Class in packing. Sure we've got an extra carry-on but it's come to us mostly full. We start, then, by setting aside our bulkiest clothes, the clothes that would otherwise take up the most room in our luggage that we're gonna wear for travel instead. Then Kimmer empties out our luggage, sets each bag on or around the bed open for business...

And begins packing from absolute scratch while one of our favorite movies, "The Holiday", plays in the background.

Kimmer gets it all done, by the way. We're in bed by 130AM after she packs the bags, figures out what we'll have to eat before boarding the plane, sets aside what we're giving my cousin and her husband to do with what they will, and...

Yeah. That's it.

End of our last day.

😕

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