We got stopped at the Canadian border, for the first time in nearly 30 family fishing trips.
Three young Canadian border officers asked all six of us to step out of our vehicle and wait next to a nearby bench.
Doing a thorough check of our 2018 white Chevy Suburban rental, one officer flipped through the pages of my husband’s book, “Sure-Fire Whitetail Tactics.”
They were less interested in my book, “Elizabeth Elliot: A Chance To Die — The Life and Legacy of Amy Carmichael,” or Phoebe’s book “The Perfect Crime” by Israel Zangwill.
One of the two male officers rummaged through Aly’s backpack and hot pink wallet — the female officer smiled, commenting to her fellow officer when she moved Phoebe’s 3-foot shark pillow and discovered a 3-pound bag of multi-colored gummy bears.
They dismissed Chloe and Michael’s third seat stash, maybe because the third officer was unloading our fishing gear and luggage from the back.
As they searched and had intense border-crossing discussions, we quietly and respectfully discussed why we may have been stopped this year.
Chloe suggested that it may have been Michael’s beard.
Aly noted that this could only mean one thing: “We aren’t cute little kids anymore.”
Phoebe figured grandma called ahead to warn Canada.
The officers efficiently and effectively did their job and we were soon driving the curvy two-lane 502, passing road signs:
• Ojibwa pow wow
• Egli Sheep Farm
• “Fatigue kills — Take a Break”
• Dumtar Paper Mill
Driving 20 hours from home, we experienced the roadside of ferns in front of stands of white birch and the gradual transition from deciduous trees to forests of conifers. But even driving away from the worries of the world, the haze of California fires followed us.
Listening to chapter 14 of David Foster Wallace’s “Consider the Lobster,” I truly couldn’t consider the pain of a boiled lobster — maybe because I’ve only tasted one in high school.
But more realistically because I am more incensed, more angry about the pain of the two young girls who were violated by Indianapolis City Councilman Jeff Miller, who finally resigned from the council after he was accused of child molestation last year. Miller plead guilty to four felony battery accounts on a person younger than 14 years old — and in a plea agreement was sentenced to four years of probation.
Call me insensitive, but I truly will never consider the pain of a lobster — never over the pain of the 1,000 child victims who were abused by the 300 predator priests from six-state Catholic diocese, all while the church leaders hid it.
As a family we are escaping the things of the world for a week, but the haze of anger hangs in the air. Tonight we prayed.
