Musing on Ingrid from the Great White North. It can’t be time for you to go?
Friends.
When you think of all the people that cross your path over a lifetime, why is it when your life intersects with a certain few — something takes?
A friendship is kindled.
Proximity doesn’t matter. Some of the best enemies live next door to each other.
Meet our Candian friend, Ingrid Nieman.
Every year for 19 years, she has travelled from her home in London, Ontario to share Thanksgiving with my extended family.
She flies in the Sunday before — and usually brings the cold weather with her. Not this year. We had a very balmy week (by Canadian standards) and now that she is leaving us, they are predicting snow showers.
How did this coming from London (Ontario that is) down to Georgia to celebrate an American Thanksgiving start all those years ago?
“I wasn’t even carrying their furniture line, but we would meet time and time again at trade shows,” Ingrid remembered the other day. “We just became friends.”
Hanging out with Ingrid the Sunday before Thanksgiving. As always a good NFL game is on the television.
My father-in-law had an outdoor furniture business based in Minnesota. Ingrid had a retail store in Canada. She now is sales representative for a number of outdoor furniture lines.
One spring at a trade show after talking about the differences between the Canadian Thanksgiving (held in October) and the American one — my in-laws invited her down.
That was 19 years ago and she has been coming ever since. People in our church and in our town, all recognize her — as the Canadian Thanksgiving visitor.
Throughout the years, another tradition (or task) has developed. Each Friday after Thankgiving, Ingrid begins to wrap my in-laws SUPER NOVA Christmas tree with lights.
Actually, it starts the Monday or Tuesday before Thanksgiving, when they head out to Jack’s Creek to get the tree. “Out at Jack’s Creek, they know me. I’m the one who does the Christmas tree. Though I think they imagine I’m Jack and Nancy’s daughter.”
So with a bursting houseful of visiting family (and my children who live over there while cousins visit), Ingrid works away on the tree.
Here it was Saturday night.
That's an interesting look.
Yes, sweet Ingrid comes for over a week the end of November every year to eat turkey with us. And have some of my pecan pie. And then to put 2,500 lights on a tree. How does one put all those lights on the tree, a job she estimates can take up to eight hours?
“It comes with my personality. Triple A, controlling…perfectionist,” she said with a laugh.
No. She might be a perfectionist — but to come and hang with our family for a week, year after year — you’ve got to roll with a lot.
Sad to see you go for another year, Ingie. A big NFL fan, we’ll miss watching these late season games with you.
Ingrid’s tree (at my in-laws).
It’s hard to believe another Thanksgiving has come and gone.
And hard to believe so has Ingrid for another year.
Is there a special friend that shares Thanksgiving with you?
