Sunday was going to be a short day. My mother booked a flight leaving Detroit at only 5:30 pm, and bunny_hugger and I despite intending to get to bed sooner and wake up earlier were not really capable of doing either. But my mother wanted to go to church, too, so we could sleep in later.
My mother went to a church nearby one of the other hotels, and text-messaged me to meet her there. I managed to fail to process this and we drove to the hotel she'd stayed at only to find her room open and housekeeping cleaning it. We started looking around --- I figured the lobby or the bar would be the places to meet her --- and learned she had checked out, in fact. Then I finally realized what she had actually said directly and plainly in the message, and we drove over to the other hotel, where my mother had put in reservations for her and my aunts for the weekend of the wedding.
For lunch we went to the Travellers Club International Restaurant And Tuba Museum, since it is quite distinctive, and also has a 500-page menu with 40-page monthly inserts. Also tubas. Lots of tubas, decorating the walls. My mother wasn't quite prepared to see so many tubas, although she recovered quickly. She also wasn't aware that the special she ordered would have about seventeen plates of food, so that we all got quite well stuffed.
bunny_hugger and I'd estimated there'd be an awkward block of time between finishing lunch and needing to go to the airport, and indeed there was: not quite long enough to do anything, not short enough to do nothing. So we went over to Lake Lansing, to walk around a lovely park which was in long-ago ages an amusement park. The house where the carousel had been is the only park piece still standing, although bunny_hugger has estimated where some of the other attractions may have been, and we saw they had pictures now of the park at a couple of the kiosks. (Not only has the park got a little go-cart style track for tricycles, but they even provide tricycles for kids to use!)
At that we still had an awkward block of time remaining, so, we found a Starbucks, where we discovered there had been some kind of 80s Nostalgia Show the night before and so we missed high schoolers dressing as Mister T or the like. No word on if anyone was being Buggles-oriented.
And, then, that took enough time we had to leave behind a beautiful Michigan day --- about five weeks farther into spring than the calendar indicated --- to drive to the airport. It was that same sad scene of separation, at the security gate, although ... we're not going to have many more of those. It's conceivable this was the last time either of us will visit the other, instead of living with each other. It's certainly one of the last. That gave the parting a strange sense: a sorrowful event that I wanted also to savor, since before long I will not have this experience again.
Trivia: The New York Yankees held spring training in Asbury Park in 1944. Source: The Jersey Game, James M DiClerico, Barry J Pavelec. (I'm surprised 4th of July, Atlantic City didn't mention that in passing, actually, even if it is far outside the early-July season.)
Currently Reading: The Jersey Midlands, Henry Charlton Beck. I'm delighted to learn one possible explanation for the names of Hopewell and Amwell townships. I'm also delighted to learn there were at least three possible Jameses whom Jamesburg was supposedly named for. (Research on the subject may have evolved since the late 30s when the book was originally written or the 60s when it was reprinted.)