Category Archives: Life Up North

Vintage Vermilion Reruns

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I often feel that repeating a treasured activity can be disappointing. It just doesn’t measure up to the memories or falls short of the same experience. But that wasn’t the case in our return stay at Vintage Vermilion. After our whole family – Rich and me, our kids and grandkids – took over this resort on Lake Vermilion for a week in 2023, there was a resounding “Yes” when we asked if they would like to do it again.

Once again we rented the whole resort. This allowed us and each family to have their own cabin – space to retreat, a spot for kids who still nap, the convenience of breakfast and lunch fixings, a needed time-out when being with cousins got too crazy. There was plenty of sleeping around – kids commandeered the extra cabin for a bunk house, took turns sleeping over in our extra bedroom plus feasting on Grammy’s pancakes in the morning, and slipped off to the “Retreat” building to read or sleep.

The other big benefit was that we had the run of the place. We took over the big deck overlooking the water, bringing down an extra table and having lakeside dinners. The lodge building was always available for playing games or reading on the screen porch. The big indoors was a mecca of activity and the center of Chelsea’s “escape room” challenge for the kids on our one rainy afternoon. The kids constantly ran around on the expansive lawn between cabins, and it was nice to have the small beach to ourselves for the little ones who still love to dig in the sand.

We rented both the large pontoon boat and the speed boat for the week. Pontoon rides were a favorite activity including a lunch cruise where my “tacklebox charcuterie” made a repeat appearance! We took it on a sightseeing cruise on the larger part of expansive Lake Vermilion, and found a nice bay where we could jump off and swim. And it transported all 16 of us to a restaurant on the lake for dinner – another favorite repeat activity by request.

Of course the speed boat was a big attraction. Some of the little ones bravely went tubing for the first time. Older kids looking for a wild ride were gladly obliged by the dads who gleefully whipped them around the bay. Others just liked riding in the “fast boat.”

On quieter waters, the paddleboats, canoe and kayaks were popular, along with the stand-up paddleboard that one family brought. And of course, swimming was a part of every day.

The fun of having a big family gathering was seeing different groups form and reform all week long. Carl and Chelsea took all the boy cousins to the Tower-Soudan Mine museum, which fascinated them all. A number of us went running each day. Karen, Erik and Ben gathered to do core strength workouts on beach towels. Chelsea organized a scavenger hunt for the kids, which drew in the older ones to help solve the word-game clues. Adults battled with kids playing various board or card games. Rich and Katie each took Ben driving, with his newly minted permit. He even scored ice cream with Katie!

It was a time to cherish being together. Cousins played endlessly with each other. Adults gathered after bedtime for card games. We sat out at the bonfire and watched the embers glow. Each family took turns preparing dinner and we all ate together every night. And of course, everyone scrambled to have a turn holding or playing with the newest family member, baby Saige. Sometimes we wandered over to others’ cabins just to hang out and have a good visit.

And there was one more memory to repeat. My summer Grammy Jammies made a second appearance, including a little onesie for Saige! They did not disappoint, and caused a great ruckus upon distribution. It was great fun to see them appear throughout the week.

A week is a good amount of time. It’s always hard to see it come to an end, and yet that’s a good way to leave. To close this chapter of family togetherness filled with fond memories and special moments. And hope to do it again. Indeed when asked, would you like to come back? Once again the answer was YES! Time will tell. Kids grow and get involved in activities. Families make their own plans for travel or vacations. But schedules willing, we hope for another rerun.

The Importance of Family

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One of the most heartwarming aspects of my cancer journey has been the unwavering support of my family. Throughout my treatment, they came to visit, even traveling long distances, made meals for us, and continually checked in with me by calling or FaceTiming. I just knew they were always there for me. And spending that time with them was especially precious.

At the start of 2025 and passing the one-year anniversary of my cancer diagnosis, I set some goals for the year, and #1 was to “maximize time with family.” It wasn’t hard to commit to that, as being with them fills my heart and re-energizes me. Not surprisingly, my grandchildren’s activities are often the driver for visits, and gives me a chance to support them in their interests.

Certainly top of the list for this spring was Saige’s baptism. Erik and Katie wanted to share this special occasion with all their immediate family, so they flew back to the Twin Cities to celebrate it in the same church where they were married. Rich and I snagged some extra time with them to enjoy an outdoor dinner at our favorite restaurant.

The baptism was a private and intimate ceremony, shared by close family members. But the tradition ran far deeper than that. They had 2 vintage baptismal gowns, one made for Katie’s mom and her siblings which was now entering its third generation. The other was made for my dad 111 years ago, continuing its trip through its fourth generation! Saige modeled both, and the emotions ran deep as I felt everyone in my family history sharing in this moment.

At least 11 of us there wore the same baptismal gown

Rich and I got away for a nice weekend in a Bed and Breakfast, and on a whim we visited Carl and Chelsea at their cabin! It was a bit of a detour from our route home, but was worth it to spend the warm spring day watching the kids run around and enjoy the outdoors. The highlight – and source of great laughter – was seeing Maren and Crosby jump in the lake. The equivalent of a Polar Plunge at that time of year!

Dance drew me to the Cities for two additional family weekends. Granddaughters Mya and Isabel are both in dance competition, and I was eager to feel the thrill, drama, intensity and excitement of those affairs. I attended a full day of the weekend-long event. It all started at home with Karen braiding and styling the tight bun in Mya’s hair, and applying all her stage makeup – oh my! I loved seeing Mya in numerous dances, rushing to change costumes, waiting to go on stage and just hanging around between dances. The energy and brilliance of all the dances, from youngsters watching one another to get the right moves to polished high school dancers in near perfect precision. Never having taken dance lessons as a little girl, it was a whole new world to me, and one I loved sharing with Mya and her family.

The end of dance season always brings a big recital, so I was back to see both Isabel and Mya dance. It has been so much fun to see them progress from year after year. At 13, Mya has blossomed with confidence as well as skill, and learned the art of facial expression to express the emotion of the music. 9-year-old Isabel has moved from the faltering back row to front and center, where she craves the spotlight!

Just as important, is sharing time at home with the kids. Playing games, riding bikes, walking the dog, reading aloud, snuggling and just hanging around together.

But there are adult moments too that I savor. Karen took me to a new musical called &Juliet at the Orpheum Theater. We spent a full evening together, starting with dinner at a Thai restaurant. The play was fun, rollicking, colorful, funny and unique, depicting what might have happened in Romeo & Juliet if Juliet had lived. Filled with pop music that rang out with a skillful band and talented singers, it was an evening of uplifting entertainment, pure and simple. As well as precious mother/daughter time.

And finally, Rich and I celebrated our 42nd wedding anniversary. A testimony to the person who has been with me throughout my cancer journey, and most of my life. Last year, we went out to dinner in the middle of my chemo treatments. This year it came during Rich’s radiation regimen. Life is different compared to 42 years ago, and promises more changes and challenges to come. But also more joy. More support, love, and moments to cherish. Because family is so important to me.

The Yellow Sweater goes on TV!

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Recently I was contacted by someone from the Minnesota Live TV program on KSTP in the Twin Cities. The woman happened to be a grade school classmate of my daughter-in-law Katie! But what she really wanted was to ask permission to feature my Little Yellow Sweater blog post on their TV show. She found it endearing and wanted to share it with their viewers. After getting permission from my kids to show the photos of them and their children, I responded “Yes!”

You can watch a video of the show.

I feel honored to have not only my writing but our cherished family traditions honored in this way.

My son and his daughter in the Little Yellow Sweater

Reclaiming Winter

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Last year winter was a no-show. As it turns out, that was a moot point for me as I was in no shape to take advantage of its usual offerings. In fact, the lack of snow and cold was to my benefit as I walked my way back to health following surgery and throughout chemotherapy. I relished the clear sidewalks and mild weather as the length of my walks grew all winter long.

This year I admit to viewing snow and cold with some trepidation. My body is not what it once was and each foray back into the sports I love has been fraught with uncertainty and apprehension. Will I be strong enough? Is my balance good enough? Will I be warm enough in the cold? So I viewed winter’s delay this year a reprieve from testing myself. Almost a relief.

And then it snowed. A true significant snowfall. And it became clear what I wanted to do.

I was up early the next morning. I knew my window of opportunity was narrow, and I was out the door putting on my snowshoes before sunrise. My goal was to be on the Lester COGGS trails just across the street while they were still pristine, covered in snow, devoid of footprints and especially before the groomer arrived.

Snowshoeing felt safe. It’s an easy activity, does not require speed nor agility. I could plod at my own pace with nary a concern. Suddenly I couldn’t wait to be out there.

Jackpot! In the quiet of the early morning I had the trail to myself. Snow clung to the trees and muffled all the sounds. Only animal tracks marred the fresh blanket of snow. I stayed toasty warm with the effort of trudging through the fresh powder. This was what I loved about winter! It was all coming back to me now.

I went out two more times that day and the next. I love snowshoeing up the local rivers, and recruited friends to accompany me up the Sucker River and Lester River. Memories of past excursions came flooding back, and these adventures rivaled those experiences. We managed to scramble up and back down waterfalls, avoid the fast running open water exposed by holes in the ice, and stay upright. We marveled at the gurgling water under the ice and the beauty of our surroundings. Sharing it with friends who relish this kind of thing made it all the better. Yes, I do love winter!

Two days later I was ready for the next challenge. I viewed cross-country skiing as crossing a higher threshold. It requires balance, coordination, technique and skill. I decided the best approach was to ease myself back into it. Although skate skiing is my preferred method, I chose classic as I could do it at a slower and more controlled pace. And I planned to ski at Boulder Lake where the terrain is very mild. I wanted to set myself up for success!

Donning far more warm clothes than I normally do, I nervously carried my skis from the parking lot to the trail. Stepping into my bindings and securing the straps of my poles around my wrist, I maneuvered myself into the tracks. This was it. I had to move forward. I double-poled once. Twice. Three times. I gingerly began striding. And I felt it – I knew just what to do! Despite the introductory wobbles, I was off and skiing!

It certainly helped that conditions were absolutely perfect. The trails were freshly groomed, and had hardly been skied. Except for the few folks who started around the same time and flew off into the distance, I had the trail system to myself. The sun came out, the sky turned that brilliant blue, and the trails were as mild as I remembered. When I came to the intersection at the far end of the first loop, I eagerly continued on to the next. And then the next after that. It felt so good I didn’t want to stop. I admit to more butterflies on the first downhill, and lost my technique trying to ski up the inclines, but that paled in comparison to the joy of being out in the snowy wilderness. Taking in the glories of winter.

Snow makes all the difference. Without it, winter is drab and long. With snow on the ground, there are so many ways to enjoy the outdoors. It reminds me that this is what I love about winter. I am so grateful that my body is once again up to it, giving me back the activities I enjoy. Allowing me to reclaim winter.

Continuing the Tradition

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I’m up to 12 yards of snuggly fleece fabric. That’s what it takes to outfit 8 grandchildren and 8 stuffy friends in Grammy Jammies. Along with 10 solid days of sitting in front of my sewing machine. But the smiles on the kids’ faces and the love that it brings make it all worth it.

It’s no surprise any more. After 15 years, they come to expect the Jammies, and I love that they do. This year the guesses began in September. “What color will they be this year?” By then the fabric was already stockpiled in my sewing area. But they know better than to expect me to answer. My friends also quiz me on the progress, awaiting the unveiling of each year’s model.

October was serious production month. It started with cutting out all the pieces – the most tedious part of the project, in my opinion. I’m always relieved when I know I have enough fabric. Serious sewing came next. I’m in my own zone when I’m in that mode, ticking off the jammies day by day. Meals and sewing dominate my days, along with easy listening audio books.

Grammy Jammies always come in the same cloth Christmas bags. They were a gift from a dear friend years ago, and I made more to accommodate the growing population.

By the end of the month all was in readiness, at least for Round 1. Kid jammies are delivered around Thanksgiving so they can wear them leading up to Christmas. I was fortunate to find a time when our whole family gathered in November for a baby shower for Erik and Katie, who are expecting their first child in January. Naturally, Baby Girl had to have her first pair of Grammy Jammies!

Round 2 is shorter, as the jammies are a fraction of the size. But they still entail all the detail work of the larger model. Friend Jammies are my special addition, and arrive at Christmas.

And yes, Baby Girl got a new Friend too!

Isabel has already put in her order for next year. “No feet next time.” At 9 she’s migrating toward the next stage. It starts with dropping the slipper feet, then moves on to Jammy Pants. I’m fine with that. Kids grow up, and if that’s what it takes to continue the tradition, I’m all in!

The Holiday Spirit

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After a tumultuous year, I was determined to make the most of the Christmas offerings this month.  For me, it signaled a return to normalcy, and was a celebration of health. 

I kicked off the season with Bentleyville.  That was a huge draw for our grandchildren, and I made two separate trips there with them, relishing their excitement and wonder.  The lights and music never cease to lift my spirits, and I delighted in the new technology fueling the soaring tree with creative designs that changed with the music.  We even happened upon “Mayor Bentley” and had a fascinating conversation with the founder of this light display.

My sister, Susie, and I took in Julebyen, a Nordic Christmas Village with cute little outdoor market stalls offering crafts, food, and friendly sellers.  Big tents offer entertainment, more vendors of handmade goods, and some protection from the cold wind.  All with a prominent Nordic flair.

After an absence of several years, largely due to bad weather for travel, once again Rich and I ventured over to Plummer, Minnesota to see the Holiday Train.  Canadian Pacific Railroad has sent a train across Canada and another in the US for the past 26 years, benefiting food shelves in every community they visit.  The brilliantly decorated rail cars move from town to town, with stops to present top talent in a live musical tribute to Christmas.  The train is best seen at night when its lights illuminate the darkness.  There is nothing like seeing the train approach in all its glory.  This year we convinced friends to join us, and we topped off the evening with a classic bar and grill dinner and staying in a motel that is a converted old-folks home – seemingly a good joke on us.

I insisted that Rich and I resurrect our tradition of attending some kind of Christmas concert, which started when our kids were in high school then college choirs.  This year I chose something different, Mr. Sun Performs Nutcracker Suite.  It’s a string quartet but of a different nature, comprised of string bass, acoustic guitar, mandolin and fiddle.  Performing in the beautiful Sacred Heart church building, their unique take on the traditional melodies was constantly surprising.  From jazz to bluegrass and a nod to improvisation each piece was intriguing.  Sometimes it took me well into the tune to finally discern the familiar melody!  Even though it wasn’t my usual cup of tea, I enjoyed the uniqueness and challenge to my musical ear.  And the subtle humor of individual band members who chatted informally along the way gave me pause to grin and laugh.

Susie and I are ushers for the Duluth Playhouse, and I prodded her to sign up as soon as the schedule for the holiday performance of Cinderella came out.  The shows were packed, and we greeted countless theater goers at the door to check them in, finding a few familiar faces in the crowd.  It was my first time ushering since my surgery, and it felt so good to be back in circulation.  I was pleased that I lasted the 5+ hours of duty that ended long after my new bedtime.  And the play and its performers were amazing.  I do love theater, particularly musical theater, and must make an effort to resume attending.

On the domestic side, my good friend Julie and I got together for our long standing tradition of making candy cane cookies together. It all started in junior high when I joined Julie and her mom for this annual baking fest.  Julie and I struggled to match the perfection of her mom’s beautifully formed candy canes, while her mom diligently tended the oven.  She’d take them out just as the edges showed a hint of browning and carefully transfer them to racks where she’d sprinkle the crushed candy cane and sugar mix on top.  Over time, we brought our own daughters into the fold, and smiled to see them struggle as we once did.  Distance and busy family lives put this activity on hold for many years, but this year we vowed to resume it.  Once again we struggled with the cookie dough, and I insisted Julie take her mom’s place at the oven (to spare myself the fear of messing up!).  We produced a credible if less than perfect assortment of cookies, pleased with our effort regardless.  Just to prove we have mellowed over the years.  It was a morning filled with memories and the warmth of long friendship.  And we are already planning to do it again next year.

With less than a week to go now, I am looking forward to celebrating Christmas with Erik and Katie in Seattle, followed by mini-Christmas exchanges with our other two kids and their families in early January.  Filled with the holiday spirit.

It Wasn’t Meant To Be

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We look forward to our stint as keepers at Crisp Point Lighthouse every year. It’s a very special place on its remote beach at the far eastern end of Lake Superior, where we camp at the base of the tower for up to five days and work in the Visitor Center. The best part is having the grounds and the flashing light all to ourselves at night, and witnessing the dramatic sunrises and sunsets that paint the sky behind the tower.

This year, with my cancer treatments, we had to cancel our winter travel plans to Florida and Costa Rica. Rich’s surgery and its aftermath further grounded us this summer. So it was with great anticipation that in late September we set out for Crisp Point. But we never got there. Mid-way through driving across the Upper Peninsula, Rich suffered a TIA, or mini-stroke, that exhibited itself with slurred speech, a weak left arm and impaired vision. Talk about scary! Fortunately, we had just switched drivers, so I was at the wheel. We turned around and sped back to the nearest Emergency Room in Ironwood, and then on to Essentia in Duluth where they admitted him to the hospital. We were very grateful to be back in the hands of his own medical team.

Fortunately, Rich’s incident was a transient occurrence – in fact lasting no more than 40 minutes – and left no damage. But the window for getting to the lighthouse had closed. To say we were disappointed is an understatement. It had been a goal all year long. Throughout each health challenge we strove to recover with Crisp Point as our payoff.

Enter the cabin. Back home again, I suggested we go to the cabin for a few days. Our calendar was empty due to the planned lighthouse gig, and on successive days we miraculously had no medical appointments. Rich felt hesitant, having just gotten out of the hospital, but agreed. Packing was easy. I reloaded our lighthouse food back into the cooler, slimmed down the clothes I had packed before, and collected a few items needed at the cabin. Off we went.

It was a beautiful sunny day, with nascent fall colors lining the road and deep blue water in the lakes we passed. As soon as we arrived, I hauled a lawn chair over to a sunny spot and opened a new book – a real book this time, not my Kindle. I spent the remainder of the afternoon reading, and continued all evening. I can’t remember the last time I relaxed like that! Rich was similarly occupied, stretched out in the cabin.

Throughout the next two days, we indulged our interests. Rich went out birding early one morning and hiked in Suomi Hills. I got in two bike rides and a long walk. We slept well in the deep silence of the woods, and enjoyed dinners overlooking the lake. When the wind finally calmed down at noon on our last day, I launched the kayak and savored the peace and silence as my paddles sliced through the water.

We both relished the warmth provided by a new mini-split we had installed in the cabin this spring. It seemed too modern for our modest 3-season cabin that we have heated with a wood stove for 34 years. But we decided that a few modern conveniences would make it easier to use the cabin as we age (as hard as that is to admit!). What a treat it was to have easy heat, and Rich especially appreciated not having to add logs to the fire in the middle of the night!

Despite the heat, I craved a fire in the fireplace. Rich was less enthused, so I decided it was time to develop my own fire-building skills. The first couple of tries it was a bit of a struggle to get the flames to catch, but by the third time I had a system down pat. I enjoyed my breakfast in front of a roaring fire each morning, and read by the crackling flames each evening. We were both happy!

It wasn’t the Crisp Point Lighthouse experience we craved, but it was a good get-away. We left doctors and hospitals behind, broke out of our normal routines, spent more time together, and just let life flow. That’s the beauty of owning a cabin. We can go whenever we please, at the drop of a hat, no matter the season. It’s our own little slice of heaven.

Crisp Point wasn’t meant to be for us this year. But you can be sure I’ll be poised to send in our request at the stroke of midnight when sign-up begins for next year. 

Life Interrupted

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This post is not about the 21st set of Grammy Jammies. It was supposed to be, and I promise to get back to that story. But life has taken a sudden turn, and I need to take a short time-out.

I might as well get right to the bottom line. Ten days ago I had surgery that revealed I have stage-3 ovarian cancer that has spread to the lymph nodes. In addition to healing from that extensive ordeal, I am preparing to begin chemotherapy in a few weeks. The good news is that I am healing well at home now and making good progress. And I have felt the warmth and support flooding in from family and friends. It’s a new journey for me, but I feel ready to take it on.

I gave CaringBridge only a passing thought initially. That couldn’t really be for me. Those are really serious cases. Well, maybe that does describe me. But as time went by I began to experience the strong desire to keep those loyal friends and family informed. My brain swirled trying to keep track. Who did I tell what? When did I last update them? Did I send them that photo? I felt a shift. I could keep everyone updated at once. Send them to the single source of information. I’m in!

So I encourage you to visit my CaringBridge site here. I have posted several journal entries to catch folks up on the journey, so be sure to click on the Journal icon to get the full story (or follow this link) and scroll down. Note: You will need a CaringBridge account to access the site.

Meanwhile, I will work on getting back to that Grammy Jammie post.

Grammy Jammies Times 21

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I’m now in my 14th year of creating Grammy Jammies. The grandkids wait with eager expectation at Thanksgiving time, knowing I will bring out the fabric bags that contain the newest iteration of Christmas fleece and footies. ”What color do you think they will be?” they wondered this year, inventorying all the past colors and designs. I never give away my secrets.

It’s a joyful mayhem, untying the bags, pulling out the contents and rushing off to don the new soft Jammies and present us with a style show. Karen’s kids were at our house for the festivities. Ben and Mya have self-selected out of the footies by now, but still willingly sport matching jammy pants.

Unwilling to miss the fun at Carl’s house, I made a special trip to Milwaukee for the presentation. I barely got in the door before they clamored for the bags. There’s nothing like hugging wiggly laughing grandkids in fleece.

That brought the tally to 7.

Not one to shirk my duties, I continued on to outfit the furry friends as usual. Many of them are the same shape and size, and thankfully they do not grow or change from year to year! I can dash off at least two of those in a day.

Now I was up to 14.

But this year there was more. After at least a year of not so subtle hints from the parents, I took on the challenge to outfit them as well. Even though jammy pants are naturally loose and baggy, I found that fitting adults was trickier than the forgiving slipper jammies on the kids. Especially when compounded by a rather outdated pattern that assumed we still wore pants up to our natural waistline! So I took a graduated approach, making two pair at a time, altering them after try-on sessions, and learning as I went.

Karen and Matt were my first guinea pigs, and thankfully they took my outlandish productions with a great deal of humor and good sportsmanship.

For the record, I managed to tame their pants down to more reasonable proportions.

I arrived at Carl and Chelsea’s house equipped with sewing machine and measuring tools. Fortunately, my latest revisions served me well, and their jammy pants required just minor adjustments.

By the time I got to Erik and Katie, I had the process down to a system and quickly modified theirs to fit.

The good news is that I now have six individualized patterns that should suit everyone for future years!

So that brings the total to 20 pairs of jammies this year. A credible effort, and weeks of fun in the process. But wait, the title says 21! 

Ah yes. Stay tuned for the next blog post to reveal the finale. (And no, I’d never get Rich to wear jammy pants!)

Bring on the Music

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There’s no doubt, the pandemic has left its imprint on me. After several years of hibernating and withdrawing from contact, with my social life shrinking down to the confines of my house and on-screen human connection only, it’s hard to re-engage.

I grew accustomed to an empty calendar. To unlimited personal time to pursue my hobbies. To the simplicity of life focused on the outdoors where I could mingle safely with friends while running, walking or snowshoeing in the woods. I admit that it has been hard to reinstate entertaining at home, to schedule events in advance and find myriad obligations staring at me on Google Calendar.

So I don’t know what got into me early this summer when I saw the banner atop the DECC announcing “The Doobie Brothers in Concert!” I immediately flashed back to my college days – well in advance of that pesky pandemic – and I blurted out “Look! Let’s go see the Doobie Brothers!” I was out with my running buddies on our usual route through Canal Park and back to Dunn Bros where we would hang out longer over coffee. I’m usually pretty oblivious to the show offerings in town, and it was pure happenstance that I even saw the sign. But the idea caught on, and soon we had six tickets in hand, dragging our husbands into it with us.

We started with dinner at Silos, which allowed us to walk over to the concert where we entered with the other gray hairs, and a few 70s clad groupies. We were just above floor level with a straight-on view of the stage. Right on time, the band strode out and struck up the music – just as I remembered it. I didn’t even own a stereo in college, but the Doobie Brothers were one of the few bands whose music I knew well.

This was a 50th Anniversary Tour, and I marveled at the number of original band members still up there playing and singing their hearts out. The lights and sound systems were modern but the tunes had not changed. They still had the fullness of sound and harmonies I loved way back when.

The music went on without a break for two and half hours, and we marveled at the stamina of the musicians, still out there doing it. The crowd went wild, bringing on an encore set that lasted at least 20 minutes, the best music yet. We were among them, cheering, relishing the familiar refrains and singing along. Carried away by the memories, the music and the momentum of the evening.

Attending a concert was everything the pandemic was not. And it sure felt good to be out there again, in public, in the moment, in attendance at an amazing performance. Experiencing it – live.

Fast forward to October. “So, are you going to the concert?” my sister, Susie, texted. “Concert?” I hadn’t a clue. “ABBA!” she replied. Now that struck a chord – Rich has been an avid ABBA fan forever. Rarely a day goes by that I don’t hear an ABBA music video emanating from his phone. How could we not have known? Quickly confirming the quality of Mania: The ABBA Tribune band, he soon pressed Purchase for the concert just over a week hence.

This time we were in Orchestra Hall, with aisle tickets on the main floor in a far more intimate setting. I was familiar with ABBA’s music, largely through seeing Mama Mia, although thanks to Rich’s CDs I’d heard all the rest as well. But I knew virtually nothing about the original band members. So I got my first glimpse of the players on this stage.

Agnetha, Frida, Bjorn and Benny paraded out along with their backup band members. It was clear that the women would dominate the show, as they quickly took center stage to sing, dance and encourage audience participation. Agnetha had a classic Swedish look in her first costume, and partnered seamlessly with Frida.

This group was first created in 1999 and put on their first show in 2000. They have since traveled the world, recreating the music and magic of ABBA. Throughout the show, Rich filled me in with trivia about all the original band members, fun tidbits that helped put the performance in perspective. It all sounded good to me, each song a close enough match to the recordings to draw me into the performance.

As the concert went on, revelers migrated into the side aisles to dance to the music. We made do with tapping our feet and swaying our arms in the air when prompted, equally engaged. Song after familiar song went by until we thought we’d heard them all. But there was one clear omission. Sure enough, for the encore the band paraded back out to perform “Dancing Queen” which brought the audience to their feet once again. Including us.

I left with my head full of music, energized by the experience. Once again, glad we’d grabbed the opportunity. Living life fully again.

There is life after Covid after all. It still takes some effort to overcome that withdrawal mentality. But sometimes we don’t hesitate. We already have tickets to Mannheim Steamroller for their upcoming Christmas Tour concert in December.

Bring on the music!