Savage Words: The National Guard couldn't have stopped me from getting her

This past Christmas Eve was a strange one for me. I remember 15 years ago on this night when I was Santa and I put together a pink kitchen playset for my daughter. I was up until about 2 a.m. putting that thing together with frustration levels at an all-time high.

This year, at about the same time, I was scouring my computer screen, watching flightstats.com as I viewed my daughter’s plane just north of Hiroshima, Japan, on her final approach to Seoul, South Korea. She spent her January term in Seoul, getting credits for a class that transferred to Augustana.

What an adventure that was for her. At only 19 years of age, she flew – by herself – to Minneapolis and then on to Seoul. But to no surprise, she quickly made friends at Korea University. From the photos she shared with her mom and I, she’ll no doubt have memories for a lifetime after a journey she’ll never forget.

She departed back for the United States on Saturday (Friday our time) and was scheduled to arrive at 4:30 p.m. on Saturday (our time) in Minneapolis. Again, I scoured flightstats.com and watched her swoop in over northern Canada, just south of Brandon, Manitoba. That made me grin. 

She made it safely to Minneapolis, but I had a rotten feeling that her flight later that evening into Sioux Falls would be canceled.

I was right.

For as much adventure as she had witnessed in the three weeks prior while galivanting around South Korea and Japan, my adventure was only about to begin.

With wind chills Saturday night approaching minus-50 degrees, I understood why Delta canceled the flight. We had her stay with some friends in Minneapolis Saturday night, and I made plans to drive there Sunday morning to pick her up and drive her back.

That was the plan, and an adventure it was.

I jumped in my car Sunday morning and hit Interstate 229 at 7:45 a.m. I looked at my dashboard where the thermometer read -22. Even my dashboard was surprised I was going to make this attempt.

Thankfully as I hit Interstate 90 and started heading east towards Isabella, the XM 80s channel was about to begin the Top 40 countdown of this week in 1987, my high school graduation year. 

“This should take some time and take me down memory lane,” I thought to myself as I glanced at the snow dancing across the interstate because of the winds.

At about that time, I picked up a nasty vibration in my car, and we shimmered down Interstate 90 for a good chunk of my drive to Minneapolis. It was clear that I had some snow and ice packed in my wheels after plowing through a snow drift earlier that morning in our driveway that Jack Frost had created the night before.

But I pressed on, hoping everything would eventually settle down. I was a little nervous as my thermometer still read -20 and I hung onto my steering wheel that was lurching and shaking due to the vibration.

I stopped in Worthington, Jackson and Fairmont, looking for a hand-held car wash where I could knock out the ice and snow from my wheel. Not surprisingly, car washes at 10 a.m. on a Sunday morning with -20 degree temps weren’t open in sleepy, little Minnesota towns.

My notifications continued to appear on my dash about low tire pressure that had come on a few days earlier because of the low temps. A “tire maintenance” warning also appeared around Albert Lea, adding an even bigger lump to my throat.

But I pressed on, listening to the countdown as I continued my trip down memory lane where I was 17 years old again. After making the turn north to Minneapolis on Interstate 35 at Albert Lea, I stopped at another gas station to put air in my tires. “Out of Service” … at all three places stopped.

I pressed on, and the countdown finally hit No. 1 at the Faribault exit, about 50 miles from my destination. (By the way, Shake You Down by Gregory Abbott topped the charts 37 years ago this week).

I finally snaked my way through Minneapolis and St. Paul and got to my daughter around 12:30 p.m. We stopped by the Minneapolis airport to pick up her luggage that spent the night before.

We got back on the road for home, and thankfully the shaking and vibration had subsided. When we left Minneapolis, the thermometer read 0 degrees, and I’d never been so happy to see that number trip the mercury.

We got back home and I hit the exit to leave Interstate 90 at 5:45 p.m., exactly 10 hours from the time I hit the on-ramp.

There were moments of anxiety because of the temps, fear because of the vibration, and anticipation because I couldn’t wait to see my world traveler again.

My dad has told me many times over the years as he checked in on me both as a child, and even more often as an adult, that “you never stop being a dad.” Of course, he was always going to check in on me.

Saturday was a stressful 10 hours, but I’d do it again in a second. The Minnesota National Guard couldn’t have stopped me from going to get her.

You never stop being a dad.