Wannaska Sweet Wannaska

Hello and welcome to an unseasonably warm, yet I'm-not-complaining, Saturday here at the Wannaskan Almanac. Today is January 21st.

So, here we are, three weeks into the new year - 2023. The hubs has a birthday tomorrow, his work anniversary is coming up soon, as well as two kid birthdays, and while the turn of the dial always gives reason to pause and reflect on the vast existential cosmos, these annual celebrations provide additional pushes to really stop and take stock.

Like many (or perhaps most) Wannaskan transplants, we thought we'd only be here for 3 to 5 years. That statement is not intended to offend the locals, but the act of moving to Wannaskaland can feel a little like those Hallmark movies about the city slicker who "has" to go to the small town and knows before they even set foot in the local diner and orders the lunch special that they're going to hate it. Or Doc Hollywood, who breaks down in the middle of nowhere Georgia on his way to Los Angeles only to find himself staying. Or, like getting off at a one-gas station bus stop on a cross-country Greyhound road trip. That is to say, Wannaskaland is so far off the beaten path, moving here can feel like an alternate universe one can't help but wonder, "How did I get here?"

But I've also lived here long enough to know something else: People don't settle here on accident. Maybe on a whim, but not because Fate plopped them in the middle of nowhere and said, "Here you go. Enjoy the fishing." No, it's such a far-flung place - technically on the map, but not on the radar - that, whether it be a job (like us) or sports or love, or love of sports, moving here is something that's done with forethought and intention. (And if you did land here truly accidentally, aside from Native Americans or the earliest of the early pioneers who very well may have had a wagon break down, flung the reins in exasperation, and said, "Ah, forget it!" - or know someone who did - leave me a comment! I'm lookin' at you, WannaskaWriter.)

As a foreigner in Wannaskanland, the 3-to-5-year plan definitely informed our lifestyle choices. No, we're not going to buy a truck because we won't need that kind of vehicle when we return to civilization. No, we're not going to get a snowmobile because neither one of us grew up with one and we won't live here long enough for our kids to enjoy one. No, we're not going to buy a snowblower because we are young and strong and we won't live here long enough to really need one. No, we're not going to buy a fishing boat because we don't live on the lake (like I did growing up) and...well, you know the refrain: We're not going to live here long enough to really need one. People who know me well will appreciate this one: No, we're not going to buy a new couch because...

And other than the snowblower, which a friend gifted us a few years ago because he really wasn't going to live long enough to need one, we still don't have a truck, or a snowmobile, or a boat, or even that blasted couch.

But, what we do have is five cars because my husband is so frugal and dislikes wasting so much, he can't emotionally part with any vehicle. What we have is a bonafide jalopy (aka, his beloved "Jalopia") that he has raised from the dead not once but twice, that he and the WAKWIR* bonded over and now take turns driving.

We have owned a total of six cats of which two ran away, one died, and the newest, who we rescued this past summer near St. Mary's cemetery, with a penchant for clawing the furniture, greets me every morning by sitting back on her haunches and lifting her front paws so I can pick her up and snuggle her like a baby.

We have a little greenhouse my husband and the Oldest assembled where my husband tries to grow tomatoes that turn red in October, long after everybody else's. We have raspberry canes we planted ourselves that have been mowed down and rebounded with new life.

We have a trampoline that is going into its fifth season and on its second trampoline mat and enough bikes (and bike parts) to service our entire family and neighbor kids.

We have a treehouse my husband built, a shed my husband converted into a playhouse, and tons of wood - both split and unsplit - in the backyard.

We have a community that cares about us and people whom we care for. Neighbors who feed our cats and whose dogs we walk and chickens we've just been asked to feed - and, of course, we said yes.

We have a genuine interest in the stats of our high school sports teams and attend sporting events our children aren't even in. We are steadfast volunteers at our church. 

We grieve not only when we lose someone we know, but feel the pain of loss for those we don't personally know because we know the people who loved them.

We have five children, three of whom have only ever lived in Wannaska.

We have a life that is like a tree, with each passing year, roots burrowing their sinewy fingers deeper into the dirt and rock to take purchase and hold our family firm.

We have a home.

*Wannaskan Almanac Kid Writer-in-Residence