About twice a year we travel west from Cleveland for about a
week. To visit my Mom (Oh yeah, and my brothers, too) in Missouri and our
daughter Rebecca in Iowa. We took this trip a couple weeks ago, and I’ll share
some of the fun with you.
It’s a tradition. As Murray’s trying to figure out which
road to take somewhere along the way, I’ll say, “Go west, young man.” And he’ll
always ask, “Who said that?” and I’ll say, “Some newspaper guy.” (Horace
Greeley)
There are other landmarks along the way we always enjoy. A
huge cross set up somewhere in the middle of Illinois; the Arch as we enter St.
Louis. Another of our favorite traditions since the kids were little? Murray
always honks when we enter a new state. Everybody’s grown, and Ping-Hwei’s
usually the only one who goes with us, but we wouldn’t think of passing a state
line without this signal.
One stop we made this year was to take pictures at a house
in St. Louis where Murray lived when he was eight or nine. He showed me how
close their school was, only a five-minute walk. They came home every day for
lunch.
Mom had her eightieth birthday last spring, so I told her
recently to let me know if she’d rather we stay in a hotel when we come. She said,
“Oh no, I like being around people.” It made me think.
Dad moved to a nursing home eleven years ago, two and a half
years before he died. She’s been alone for a long time. I only ever lived by
myself for two years, in an apartment, before I got married.
We had lunch in our favorite restaurant when we visit Mom, a
pizza joint which also sells hotdogs with a lovely supply of toppings.
Ping-Hwei ordered a shrimp pizza, which really concerned me, but my brother Rodney
was nice. He asked Ping-Hwei if he could taste it and said it was pretty good.
On Sunday we went to the Hope School reunion, held every
three years. My Mom went there to school, a one room school house which started
sometime in the late 1800s and closed in 1955. Each time now, when they gather
the students for a picture, there are fewer. This year there were twelve. One
of the men there this year said he was the entire first grade class the last
year the school was open.
Several of the ladies who came to help set up for the day go
to my Mom’s church. When others from the church came later, including the
minister, he said, “Oh, here’s the rest of the church.” One of the ladies asked
him, “Did you pray for us?” He said, “Oh, I did more than that. I used you in
illustrations.”
My cousin Vernon sat beside me and told me his son was about
to turn forty. I told him, “The other day I complained to Mom that my baby is
in his third year or college, and she told me her baby is almost ready to
retire. So I figured I’d better stop complaining.”
After we left Mom’s house, on the twisty country roads, we
almost hit a deer. Murray said the deer was almost across the road. When he saw
us, he turned and ran back the other way. Poor guy.
While we were with Rebecca, we stopped by a store so she
could get cold medicine. She asked, because she’s my daughter, “Should I get
candy?” Murray said no, I said yes, and she brought chocolate.
Rebecca took us to her animal shelter and let me play with
many happy dogs and cats. The next day she asked if I wanted to go to her
friend’s house to see her pet snake. I really don’t feel comfortable with
snakes, but because Rebecca’s my daughter, I went. I even held it, a ball python.
When we got ready to leave Rebecca’s apartment on the last
night, I stood up and said, “Okay, Rebecca, let me give you a hug.” She
muttered, sounding maybe somewhat disgruntled, but as I moved toward her, she
slammed into me for the hug.
We listened to books including a Lincoln Rhyme mystery. As
we stopped at a rest stop in Iowa coming home, Murray mentioned, “Oh, I found a
good parking space.”
Here I experienced a technique of a writer that I am always
impressed by. The Lincoln Rhyme book takes place in Italy. As I was getting out
of the car, I thought, maybe our
disability parking pass won’t be acceptable in Italy,, so drawn into the
story had the author brought me.
Excellent trip.
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