Tripping

June 5, 2013

My father met my mother at a dance. She snuck out of the window of the nurses’ dorm to go to the party with her best friend. From across the room, as in the movies, my crazed mother casually pointed and noted, “That is the man I am going to marry.” Mom and dad met that night and rendezvoused roughly four times after that before they married. Together until she died thirty-eight years and eight days later, they made a good go of it.

I listened to dad’s stories from his Navy to college life, meeting mom and subsequent jobs until the time he retired. We had a lot of ground to cover, literally and figuratively since the drive is over four and a half hours. The dog panted with anxiety in the back, despite the Rescue Remedy I gave him, and we stopped several times to let him out to wander and have a drink.

When Tyrus refused to accept a hard bagel, toasted many days prior, dad recounted a story of a crew of men, out for a day of pheasant hunting. As they stopped for lunch, the dog’s owner took out his sack of sandwiches, offering one to the dog who turned his nose up at the meal. The man tossed the bag out into the brush stating “If the damned dog won’t eat it, why should I?” We got a good long chuckle out of that tale.

As I mentioned before, I get turned around in the blink of an eye, took a wrong turn and ended up south of where we live so the Holiday clerk was of great assistance in getting us back on track. The map doesn’t have updated streets so it makes it more difficult to manage the directions from the passenger seat. Tyrus wasn’t any help either.   

Back home after a week of lake life is cumbersome. At least the electricity is in working order now and the modem has yet to arrive so that is on my agenda for today.