Two Slices
Last night, I had a nostalgic night with my pal Lisa singing along to all of Liz Phair's wonderful songs. I marvel at how human brains can remember the words to songs they haven’t heard in 25 years.
During the set, while Liz was singing “You’re lucky to be alive,” memories of the last time I celebrated Holly’s birthday flooded my mind. (I think about her every day but today is actually her birthday).
We decided to drive to a little divey diner, and I mean that term of affection because there isn’t much I appreciate more than a long-time dive bar or diner. So off we drove to Osseo, Wisconsin, to indulge our sweet tooths at the Norske Nook.
They sell Norwegian delicacies such as lefse and potato pancakes that can be enjoyed traditionally (topped with lingonberries and whipped cream) or with more savory items like bacon and eggs.
They also serve up bakkels (small Scandinavian pastry pies), rosettes, krumkake, and almond cakes. But for us, it was all about the pie.
The first time she took me to the Nook, it was for my birthday. I walked into the wood-paneled shop and was greeted by that glorious diner smell, a combination of grease and grandma’s home cooking. There was also a case of delicious-looking pie options. The place was jumping, so we had to wait a few minutes, which only served to stoke my appetite as I sat looking at all of the sweet treats.
When we sat down, the server recommended ordering our pie with breakfast because pie sells out fast here.
I decided upon an amazing-sounding concoction comprised of my two favorite fruits called raspberry-peach melba. “Would you like that with ice cream?” the beehive-having 50ish woman asked. “Yes, please!” I responded with zero hesitation. Needless to say, this was the most delicious thing I could have imagined eating.
When we returned years later for Holly’s birthday, we knew exactly how to order: pie first. Holly chose chocolate pie, while I had to have my raspberry-peach.
The slices arrived, and trying to be disciplined eaters, we set ours aside while we waited for our food. We laughed at how “grown up” we were being by waiting to eat it and also considered following the phrase, “life is uncertain, eat dessert first.” We clinked our forks together. “We didn’t come all this way to eat salad!” Holly declared as we savored small bites of our tasty treats.
The tang of the raspberry and sweetness of the peach blended as perfectly to my taste buds as Baby Bear’s porridge did for Goldilocks. “That lemon pie sounded really delicious,” Holly said.
“Well, order a piece!” I exclaimed. “It’s your birthday!” I reasoned that if she didn’t want to eat it now, we could take it home and eat it later. We had brought a little cooler in case we found a cheese shop, so it’d stay cool while we explored.
When the server came to check on how our lunch was tasting, Holly ordered the lemon pie with the towering meringue. When it arrived, I snapped a photo of her smiling, with the pie in front of her. We laughed as I imitated my college pal Lynda Campfield, who once ordered another friend who would occasionally sneak into the dorm kitchen at night, “Don’t come back here without two French silk pies!”
Once Holly finished her food, she took a bite of that lemon pie with a delight I hadn’t seen in months. She been fighting digestive issues for six months — all traceable to a stomach bug from a Mexico trip with friends. “I think your microbiome is just out of whack,” I said, encouraging her to see a functional medicine doctor.
Traditional GI docs and colonoscopies had left her frustrated. Her oncologist even advised pausing chemotherapy because of the GI side effects—a decision I still don't understand. I think the months on and off treatment gave "Tina the tumor" time to take hold.
"I don't know what to do," she said, discouraged. I told her, "You need someone who'll look in your gut, not at your gut." Dr. Tara prescribed supplements to rebuild her gut bacteria. Within days, Holly was exclaiming over breakfast: "I can't believe how much better I feel!"
So, it was a long journey to that second piece of pie—which is probably why it never made it to the cooler. She ate the whole thing.
When we finished lunch, we wandered into a nearby game-and-puzzle shop. Holly was so excited. “I can buy some stuff for Brian (her brother) for Christmas in here!” she said. We talked with the owner, who recommended several things Holly purchased. “This is a gift to me, too,” she said. “Now I don’t have to think about what to get him.” I joked that we could come back every year. Presents and pie: what could be better?
Liz finished singing, and while the tech brought her another guitar, I smiled thinking about Holly and our day of pie and presents.
I started to cry as I thought about how much it really sucks that Holly isn’t here to celebrate her birthday this year. And how she won’t be any other year. And how whe won’t be able to buy her brother any more gifts
I also thought about how precious life is. Lynda Campfield, who also died a few years ago, was right: don’t come back without two French silk pies. Through tears, I promised myself that I would always order at least two slices of pie — one for me and one for Holly.