When I am an old lady (way sooner that I’m comfortable with!) and I think back on Wisconsin I will remember flowers and lighthouses and nice people. A different flavor of nice, but nice all the same. I say that because they are not walking towards you friendly in Wisconsin. They are more two steps back and then a smile kind of nice. I noticed this, first, with the young man who checked us into our room. Our motel was the kind of place where your room door opens onto the parking lot and a decorator was not consulted about anything. There’s a microwave that looks like somebody might have used it at college first. The beds are the old-fashioned kind you better check under for puppies and socks before you leave–we found both. The shower squeaks and bangs before it starts and none of that matters because once you cross the parking lot and a small street you are on the shores of Lake Michigan. That is a sight you won’t soon forget. I couldn’t get over folks talking about going down to the beach of a lake. But it’s there. Anyway, I digress. Back to the young man who checked us in. It was pouring rain when we arrived and tumbled into his lobby dripping and exhausted. Darkness had long since settled and it was that time of night when hotel lobby folks are in the back room watching tv or doing their homework. This one wasn’t. He was clicking clacking on a computer. Took way longer than i expected to look up and then didn’t smile. He kinda looked like a chubby version of that famous character Spicoli from Fast Times.(If you don’t get that reference you won’t be old as fast as me!) Looked like him but with none of the natural bounce of Spicoli. Nope. This kid found nothing amusing about two wet Texans in his lobby. Polite, but not amused. Or friendly. That never stops me. I told him we were first time visitors to Wisconsin and asked him what we should do in the area. What he recommended. He stared at me for a minute and then lumbered over to the wooden display rack and gathered up several flyers. He shoved them into my hands, gave my husband our room key and informed us it was too late to get any food close. Ten minutes later, when I was back to buy some microwave popcorn and a candy bar from his little store, the computer was once again click-clacking. I tried to start a conversation again to no avail. Back to my room in the rain to eat my nutritious meal and listen to the shower screech. Fished the puppy out from under the bed and was already asleep when my husband got out of the shower and informed me there was only one towel. “One of us is going to have to go to the office and get more.” he informed me. Not gonna be me I thought and then fell asleep again– exhausted I’ve been in the car for days kind of sleep. Didn’t wake up until I smelled coffee the next morning. My husband had already been down to the office where, he informed me, there was now a lady working and he had gotten a stack of towels. “Was she nice?” I asked without opening my eyes. This was one of those questions I ask my husband that he never understands. He honestly doesn’t care if people are nice. If they have a family. How long they’ve worked at a place. He just cares if they are doing their job. “She gave me coffee and towels.” was his reply. I stuck out my hand, took the coffee and the first of our three days in Wisconsin began. It was a blur of one beautiful place after another. We had coffee at a charming coffee house around a fire that was completely necessary. (You probably didn’t appreciate that sentence enough if you’re not from Texas!) We walked along the beach of Lake Michigan and the puppy barked at water. We got ice cream late one night at a wonderful old-fashioned ice cream parlor called Beernsten’s the was something from a kid’s best dream. Glass jars of different chocolates lined every counter. We saw red lighthouses and gorgeous hydrangeas casually growing beside the road like they wouldn’t cost me a fortune back home. We wore light jackets and shivered and talked, mildly seriously, about whether we would want to live in Wisconsin. (No, because of the winters!) Stopped one night to watch a full moon rise over Lake Michigan and felt our throats catch at the peaceful beauty. Smiled at the other folks watching the same thing and pleasantly frittered time away as vacationers do. So much so that, suddenly, it was our last night in our homely room that had started to feel like home. I packed and then, to celebrate, I told my husband I was going to get popcorn. I hadn’t been back to the office since that first night and I wondered on my way over if our friend Spicoli would be there. He was. Click-clack. But this time, when I walked in, he stopped typing and looked up at me. And, he talked. “Sooo, what did you guys do?” He said with a real interest. I stared at him for a moment and then answered, “We ate cheese curds.” All the wonderful things we had done and seen and that’s all I could come up with. “We ate cheese curds.” He nodded his head and that was that. Click-clack. I gathered up my popcorn and another candy bar (We were on vacation!) and asked him to charge them to my room. He told me, “I got you.” And then, just as I was about to go outside, he added, “Wisconsin is cool. Come back.” But he smiled. A real smile. I smiled back. A happy Texan and a quiet kid from Wisconsin. I couldn’t wait to tell my husband about the interaction even though I knew he wouldn’t care.