Short Story Time Again

 Location: Heart of Haynesville RV Park; Mansfield, Louisiana

I'm still here in Mansfield and enjoying the kids, grandkids and doctors. My current plan is to leave on January 6th or maybe later. My plans are still up in the air. Fortunately, it seems like it is going to be a mild winter this year which is fine with me. I'll be keeping an eye on the forecast and the temps look like they are going to drop, I'll head south early. 

While coming back from Sam's Club, a short story popped in my head. Once I got back to Liberty, I started typing and a few hours later, the following short story was born. I haven't proof read it much, but that's OK. 

Here it is.

Two Very Different Lifes

It was raining and a north wind started blowing which made for a dreary day. The forecast however showed clearing by the afternoon with bright sunshine. He thought, “It would be nice if life was like that, sunshine after every storm.” Even though his 65 year old joints ached a little from the rain, it was Wednesday which meant it was laundry day, and after all he hadn’t been back to the laundromat in a year or so. As he gathered up his dirty clothes his mind wandered back. In the later years of their marriage, Wednesday had strangely become their favorite day of week. Their washing machine broke one day which forced them to go to the laundromat. His wife was always able to see the silver lining in any situation so she planned an entire day around the trip to the laundromat. First, there was breakfast at the café. On that first day, her eggs weren’t cooked to her liking but instead of sending them back, she ate some of them and pushed the rest to the side. She said, “half of the eggs were perfect which more than made up for the half that wasn’t”. That’s my wife and her silver lining thinking at work again. At the laundromat, she made up a game. It was a game just for us two. She called it “story-telling”. She would point out someone in the laundromat and make up an entire fictitious story about them. It might be some young couple and she would weave a story about how they met and even what their future held in store. She had a very active mind and she put it to good use. I would throw in a couple of details now and then but nothing important to the story. But, she would always congratulate me for my contribution without sounding too condescending. This process went on until a story was made up for each and everyone there. I always noticed the stories were happy ones, never sad. After laundry we walked hand in hand through the nearby park. We strolled the pathways as we reminisced about our younger years, children and now grandchildren. There are lots of subjects to talk about after forty years of marriage. After the walk we got cups of hot coffee and sat on a bench overlooking the river. We watched the river flow by hoping we would see some tow boats pushing their barges. Of course, she would make up stories about where the tug was going to or coming from with side stories about the captain and crew. The day would end with dinner and wine on the patio as we watched the sun set.

I replaced the washing machine with a new fancy one after that first visit to the laundromat but every Wednesday she would say it was broken again. I would act surprised and ask her, “Are you sure”. She would always answer with, “Of course I am, you know I can’t lie to you”. Somehow, she always had plans for us before and after the laundry with “story-time” being her favorite activity. That’s how Wednesdays became our favorite day. Those wash days were always good days.

This went on for six months before the doctors gave us the bad news. My wife had a rapidly spreading cancer and her time was short. I did everything I could to make her time as peaceful as possible. One day I asked her if she was sad. Her answer was typical for her and it brightened my aching heart. She said, “There isn’t anything to be sad about. It is just my time and I’ll be seeing all of my loved ones that went before me real soon. The only thing that would make me sad is if I thought you would be sad about me leaving you. I know we’ve talked about which of us would go first, and I’m sorry that you will have to wait to join me, but this is just the way it has to be”. I was there for her last hour, then her last minute. I was holding her hand when she suddenly perked up and looked me straight in my eyes, smiled and said, “Before my time runs out, I have to tell you, I lied about the washing machine being broken.” We both smiled. As her eyes faded and she peacefully drifted away, we told each other, for the last time, “I love you”. Then I was alone.

It’s been a little more than a year ago that my wife passed away and it’s another rainy, windy Wednesday. My mind was flooded with memories of that first trip to the laundromat. Just thinking of it gave me a happy and peaceful feeling. I hadn’t done my laundry there since her passing, choosing instead to use the “broken washing machine” at home. But today felt different for some reason. So, I packed up my dirty clothes and went to that comfortable and familiar laundromat. Nothing had changed and it looked the same. The good feelings I had from the earlier memories continued as I began doing my clothes. After putting my clothes in the dryer I sat down, closed my eyes and started remembering some of the old “story-times” that my wife had conjured up out of thin air. As I sat there smiling, I was interrupted by a pat on my shoulder. I opened my eyes and saw a pretty woman looking at me and asking something. I couldn’t understand her and thought maybe my mind was playing tricks on me with “story-time”. She then repeated herself and asked if I had an extra dryer sheet. I firmly answered with a “Yes”, but didn’t say anything else. She looked at me as if I was crazy and said, “Can I have one or if you insist, I can buy one from you”. That sounded like some something my wife would have said and it jolted me back into real time. I told her, “I’m sorry, I was distracted there for a minute. Here, you can two sheets if want. No charge.” She giggled and accepted the dryer sheets and went away to put them in her dryer. As she walked away, I felt sad and happy, which puzzled me. To my surprise, she returned from her dryer, sat down next to me and quickly said, “Hi, I’m a divorcee. In fact, I’m a two-time divorcee but both of my X-husbands cheated on me.” Her bluntness caught me off guard but I politely put out my hand and introduced myself. She quickly replied with, “I can tell you’re single by you being in this dumpy laundromat.” I started to tell her about why I was here and how much this laundromat meant to me but before I could say a word she leaned in and whispered, “What’s a good looking guy like you doing in a place like this”, then laughed loud and deep. I didn’t know how to take her and quickly excused myself to go check on my dryer. Even though the clothes were still a little damp, I took them out and started folding them quickly. I wanted to make sure I was out of there before her clothes were finished drying. She walked over to me, reached in my basket and retrieved some of my underwear. She pretended to fold them but was doing more fondling than folding. I was at a total loss as to what to do. Fortunately for me her phone rang and she walked away to answer it. I started folding quicker with hopes of leaving while she was on the phone. I still had plans for coffee and a bench by the river. If I could get away from her, maybe I could still salvage the day.

As I was leaving and heading to my truck, she grabbed me by my arm. As I turned around, I saw her crying big tears and saying I needed to take her to the hospital. I thought “Oh, crap, now what, a damsel in distress?” I suddenly remembered what the radio talk show host, Dr. Laura, had said years ago, “A damsel in distress is a distressed damsel, be on guard”. As she was crying, she said the phone call was the hospital and her latest X-husband, who had cancer, was asking her to come see him at the hospital. He could see how emotional she was and knew it wasn’t safe for her to drive. I walked her to my truck and helped her inside. We arrived at the hospital and I thought I would just drop her off but she insisted I stay with her in case she needed me. Begrudgingly, I parked the truck, walked inside with her and ultimately all the way to her X’s hospital room. As she walked up to her X’s bed, I immediately started having flashbacks of the days my wife lay in a  room just like this one. I thought of those last minutes with her. My sympathy was running high as I saw her X reach out a feeble hand for hers. She refused to take his hand which made me wonder what was going on. Even though the dying man was speaking softly, I could clearly hear his words. He was apologizing to her for all the wrongs he had done to her over the years. Knowing his time was running out, he was pleading for her to forgive him. I felt as if I was intruding on this highly personal time so I turned to leave, but before I cleared the door, I heard her response to him. “Not only no, but hell no”. I ran to the stairs and left the hospital with my tires burning rubber. I had never been around such a mean and evil person.

Two very different lifes.

My wife had always been innocent, nice and loving but was taken way too soon. This other woman; pure evil, but still around. I never went back to the laundromat because I was afraid of running into that crazy woman again. I realized, I didn’t need to be in a particular place for my memories to warm me up and brighten my day. My “silent echoes” are always inside of me no matter where I’m at or what I’m doing.

Ya’ll take care of each other. Maybe I’ll Cya down the road.

Sunrise from the balcony of the condo my X-wife and I stayed at in Galveston a couple of months ago.

      

 

Another short story (fair warning)

 Location: Heart of Haynesville RV Park; Mansfield, Louisiana

I'm sorry this isn't a travel post but I guess I just have to write these short stories to clear them out of my head. I'll try to post the part 2 of the trip but as more and more time passes, it seems to be becoming irrelevant. Oh well, we'll see what happens. If ya'll are wondering, Yes, these short stories are still cathartic.

The Tree

     He lay in bed but sleep wouldn’t find him. The night had been filled with tossing and turning as thoughts raced through his mind. Tonight, he couldn’t turn them off. His wife, of too many decades to remember without a calculator, lay comfortably next to him in peaceful sleep. He sure envied her for that trait on this night. With everything going on in their lives, how could she just lay there? He knew one thing for sure. A meeting with the guys would be needed and they would help him come to grips with the decisions hanging in the air. He thought to himself, “I sure hope they show up. They had always been there when needed, but there was no way to know for sure.”

     It was time to get up and he threw himself out of bed so fast that he “accidentally” woke his wife. He had been taught years ago to never let the sun come up before him. Today would be no different and he had his regular chores to do before the meeting with the guys. As he got up from the breakfast table, his wife gave him a soft kiss on his cheek and whispered, “It’ll be OK”. He smiled at her reassuringly and replied, “Sure it will, don’t you worry about it”, then turned to face the day.

     He and his wife were third generation farmers and had raised four children right here on this farm. Looking back over the last three generations, there had been a total of twenty two children raised in this old house. Sadly, the number of children had decreased with each generation. Their own four children were fully grown and scattered around the world like seeds in the wind. The oldest was a merchant marine sailing around the world. Growing up, he was always the wanderer and talked about seeing things other than the farm. The next was a successful businesswoman on the west coast rubbing shoulders with the “pretty people”. Third was an oilman in west Texas with a reputation of bringing in difficult wells. The baby of the family chose a peaceful life in the mountains of upstate New York. We all referred to her as the “hippie” of the family. All four of them had two main things in common. One was that they all worked hard on the farm as they were growing up. This built their work ethic and character that served them well in their diverse careers. Second, none of them wanted to take over the farm and be farmers.

     The tractor was a little hard to start this morning but it finally ‘caught fire’ and coughed into action. As he drove along the edges of the fields surveying the crops he had planted a few months ago, he knew the harvest yield would be down this year. How far down would depend on if rain came soon or continued to stay away. He never was able to justify the cost of an irrigation system because the dry years had always been far apart. It was like this every year at this time. It didn’t matter if it was a dry or wet year, there was always a worry about something or another. This year was different though, for so many reasons. The lack of rain, while a major concern, was only one of many issues they were having lately. As he looked over the corn he knew that harvest time was quickly approaching. The irony of “harvest time” didn’t escape him as he thought of the guys and wondered if they would they show up. He wished there was a way of contacting them directly instead of having to rely on them to just appear. Surely they both knew he had some really big decisions to make and he needed their experience, knowledge and guidance.  

     He drove the tractor to the meeting place but they weren’t there. While jumping down from the tractor, he thought, “Oh well, I’ll just clean up the place some and maybe they will show up.” The meeting place was a large shade tree in one of the corn fields. It was surrounded by ripening crops. He had brought a hand scythe to trim the small patch of grass that encircled the tree. It was quick work and he was soon sitting on the bench under the tree wiping the sweat from his brow. He couldn’t remember if the bench was first built by his grandfather or father but he knew he had repaired it several times over the years that he had been in charge of the farm.

     The tree had been a refuge for all of the generations. There was a well worn path directly from the tree to the back door of the house about a quarter of a mile away. The tree had been the place where all of his children had sat and planned out their lives. It was the same place where he had proposed to his wife forty years ago after she had let him kiss her in the moonlight. Over the years, Granddad always talked about how he and Grandma weren’t sure if they chose the tree or the tree chose them. Whichever way it was, the tree was saved when they first cleared the land for farming. It wasn’t much more than a sapling at the time but they saw its potential just as they saw the potential of the farm. Week after week of clearing, Granddad turned what used to be acres of trees into rich farmland. That farmland had provided a very nice and comfortable life for three generations but may end soon.

     It seemed as though all big decisions, for all of the generations, had been made right here under the tree. Another one needed to be made soon.

      He felt them sitting next him on the bench more so than seeing them. It was like that sometimes, just a feeling and nothing else. But today, they slowly came into focus and he said, “Hi Dad. Hi Granddad. Glad ya’ll could make it.” The only words spoken were his. Yes, he could see them sometimes, but they never spoke. It was their thoughts that would find their way into his head. Afraid they may vanish as mysteriously as they came, he spoke quickly. “We are thinking about selling the farm”. Anticipating their reaction, he expected a flood of their thoughts but only one came. It was “Wait”. “Oh no”, he thought, they want me to wait to sell. He then asked, “Wait for what?” He was even more confused by their reply, “Wait for them.”

     It was then that he caught some movement out of the corner of his eye and turned to see what it was. It may have only been in his mind, but he thought he clearly heard for the first time since his passing, words from his grandfather. Those words were, “Ut oh, she’s coming”. The movement was his wife approaching along the path. It seemed as though there were two other people walking with her but he couldn’t quite make out who they were. It wasn’t unusual for his wife to do this. She would often meet him under the tree whenever she would see the tractor parked near it. She would bring him some cool water and maybe a bite to eat. When she finally arrived at the tree, he was shocked to see her companions. Mom and Grandma were standing there in front of him, clear as a bell. He had no words and could only say, “what, what”. He was used to visiting with and spiritually seeing his father and grandfather, but had never seen his mother and grandmother in the spirit. Seeing her husband’s confusion, his wife spoke next. She said, “Yes honey, they visit with me just like they, pointing to Dad and Granddad, visit with you.” We usually meet in the kitchen and discuss several topics ranging from cooking to men. We knew today was different so we all came to the tree. We decided to come to the meeting to make sure our husbands knew our thoughts on the subject at hand.

 

Epilogue:

On that day, the six of them agreed to sell the farm. It was sold to a young couple with two small children. There were two stipulations in the bill of sale. First, the tree could never be cut down and the area around it must be maintained in good condition. Second, the husband and wife could live in the house until their passing. The young couple became surrogate children to the husband and wife. The husband helped the young man around the farm and taught him the “tricks of the trade”. The wife helped the young woman with her children who became like grandchildren. Life was good. An evening seldom passed without the older husband and wife spending time at the tree. Sitting on the back porch after a long day, the young couple would watch them and it always seemed as though they were talking and laughing with people. Life goes on and there are definitely angels among us.   

Darrell Goza

October 13, 2024

Smiles and Life's Curves (another dang Short Story)

 Location: Heart of Haynesville RV Park; Mansfield, Louisiana

I just posted the first part of the memories and wow's of the trip and still working on part 2. It's strange though, I find myself typing up thoughts and stories as they pop in my head. There does't seem to be any rhyme or reason to when or where they come from. The one I'm about to post came to me as I was waking up the other morning. After I turned my laptop on, I typed it up in about 30 minutes and 2 cups of coffee. 

Oh well, this blog and my facebook account is a good place to put these stories/thoughts/ramblings down for the grandkids to see in the future. 

Here we go:

Smiles and Life’s Curves

         It was late evening and he sat in the diner just as he had every evening for the last several months. His head was down and he was staring into an empty coffee cup trying to figure out his life. How did he get here? Where did his life take such a drastic curve? He knew the answer, but was still in the denial phase. That curve occurred a year ago today. But, that was just the latest curve in his life. To fully understand where he was, he would need to go back farther. Ten years farther back; back to the early days of his freshman year in college. His adult life was just starting and he planned to be a Geologist. Studying rocks and their strange formations had always interested him and he wanted to learn more. Then that curve happened. She smiled at him.

         Of course, the “She” was a girl with long brown hair and deep brown eyes. It was only later on that she corrected me by saying it was auburn color. At that time she could have told me it was purple and I would have agreed with her. I saw her for the first time as she was walking to class. I changed my direction so I could “accidently” intercept her with hopes of meeting her. I miscalculated and missed her by about ten yards before she entered the education building. I couldn’t follow her, not in there, not in the education building. I was going to be a geologist, not a teacher. Little did I know, but that curve I mentioned was still curving. I planned better the next day although waiting around in the same place for several hours may not be considered a plan. In fact, it was probably closer to stalking, but I didn’t care. There she was again, going to that same building. I hurried this time to make sure I was standing on the steps when she arrived. I casually said “Hi”. She stopped, looked at me and said, “Oh, hi” and then smiled. There is always a smile. I guess it is life’s way of signaling that something is going to change and hopefully for the better. Still trying to act cool and hoping she couldn’t hear my heart beating like crazy, I reached into my pocket and brought out a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup. I offered it to her and that smile immediately turned into a frown. With her nose turned up and head turning away, she said, “Oh my goodness, how can you eat those things, they taste like dirt?” That threw me for a loop since they were my favorite candy and I had never heard of anyone that didn’t like them. But then she smiled again as I told her “I agree with you” and threw the Reese’s in the trash can. For the rest of our lives together I became a “closet Reese’s eater” and couldn’t enjoy them if she was anywhere close by. She sensed my confusion and said, “I thought we might go to class together. You are an education major aren’t you”? Any guesses as to my answer? Would I strongly stand up for geology and subtly put down education as a lowly major? You bet I didn’t. I couldn’t. Not after she smiled at me. I said, “Of course I am but that I had to go to the Administration Building first”.

         Four years after I changed my major from geology to education, we both graduated with honors with our education degrees. Within a week of graduation we married and accepted jobs at the same school as elementary grade teachers. Life was great. I was a teacher by profession but a “rock hound” by hobby. We talked about the kids we were teaching and the parents we met at “meet the teacher” meetings. As the years passed, we became excellent teachers and one or the other of us routinely won “Teacher of the Year” awards. On our tenth wedding anniversary we decided it was time to expand our own family. She went to the doctor for a check-up to make sure everything was fine. The doctor noticed that she coughed a few times during the visit and asked her about it. She said, she had been coughing like that for a few weeks and she thought maybe she picked up something from one of the kids. The doctor said, “Why don’t we check” and sent her to the X-ray department. After the doctors visit, she called me. Everything is a blur from that moment to now. Something about a spot on her lung, cancer, surgery, chemo, hospital, terminal. At the end, she lay in the hospital bed and we both knew the end was near. She looked at me with those same deep brown eyes, smiled, said “I wish I was leaving you with a child so you won’t feel so alone when I’m gone but we just ran out of time. I love you.” With my “I love you” hanging softly in the air, she peacefully drifted away. As I sat there looking at her and holding her hand, I could feel her leave. I knew my life had just changed but was unsure of how much. I sat there for what seemed like days but was really only minutes before nurses rushed in and escorted me out.

         Rosemarie loudly asked me if I wanted more coffee. I blankly stared at her and asked why she was yelling. She said, “I’ve asked you four times but it was clear you were in a different world”. I apologized and said, “No thanks, just give me a few Reese’s and I’ll check out”. She said, “I’ll check you out as soon as I finish with Nadia”. It was then that I noticed the pretty woman with brown hair and brown eyes paying her bill. As she was about to leave, Rosemarie handed me my Reese’s. Seeing them, the woman turned her nose up and was clearly disgusted. She didn’t say a word and was expressionless as she left the diner. Rosemarie laughed and said, “She sure gave you the cold shoulder”. I agreed and asked if she knew anything about the woman since Rosemarie knew everyone in town.

         Rosemarie started in by saying, “She’s new to town. Only been here less than a year. Poor thing will be raising that baby by herself since her husband died in that accident. I reckon she is still grieving.” I glanced out the window as the woman got in her car and drove away. I looked back at Rosemarie and asked what accident? I really didn’t want to know but it just seemed like the thing to ask. She said she wasn’t sure about the details, but it was an accident where he worked as a Geologist. Curve?

        Life went on and day by day, month by month I slowly recovered from the loss of my wife. I continued teaching because in a way it was like I was continuing the life my wife had wanted for both of us. I never thanked her for choosing my major with her smile, but I should have done so. My students became my surrogate children and I often thought, “My wife was wrong when she said she didn’t leave me a child before she left. She left me hundreds”.

         About six years later I was in class preparing for “meet the teacher” meetings that evening. It was near the end of the day and I was tired. As a present to the children for their good behavior, I walked around and gave each of them a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup. As I sat down at my desk, Millie approached me and handed me the Reese’s. Millie looked at me with those deep brown eyes and said, “Thank you for the candy, but my Mama says these taste like dirt”. I was blown away and immediately transported back in time to meeting my wife as well as seeing that pregnant woman. They were the only two people that I had ever known that didn’t like Reese’s. I asked Millie if her parents were coming to “meet the teacher” night. She said, “yes, Mama is coming but I don’t have a Dad”.

          The last parent to enter my room that evening was a brown haired woman with dark brown eyes. Although it had been six years, I knew right away it was the pregnant woman from the diner. As she approached me, I said, “You have very pretty auburn hair”. She touched her hair and smiled. And you know what happens when women smile, curves happen.

Darrell Goza

September 22, 2024  

Ya'll take care of each other. Maybe I'll Cya down the road.

Trip Highlights (mostly pictures) Part 1

 Location: Heart of Haynesville RV Park; Mansfield, Louisiana

I've been back at my home-base for a few weeks now and have had a few coffee outings and lunches with my x-wife, lunches with Brandon and my grandson's birthday party. I have also successfully procrastinated at completing any item on my list of "things to do before hitting the road again". Maybe making this post will be like closing the door on my recent trip and will motivate me to complete that list in an expedited fashion. (yeah, yeah, I didn't believe it either, even as I was typing it).

I figured it was time to post the pictures from the trip since I mentioned it in my last post. As a brief reminder, it was a 3059 mile trip through 8 states with stops at 27 campgrounds. The pictures are either "wow" moments caught in time by my camera or something that will trigger a memory for me in the future.

I have to split this Trip Highlights into two parts. Just too many pictures and memories. I'll post the second part when I get back from Galveston. My X-wife wanted to go there for a few days so I'll be taking her next week. I guess I'm lucky she didn't want to go to France or some other place. Galveston is only about 4 1/2 hours from here. We will be staying in Condo I've rented so Liberty will be on her own for a few days. That will be her first time alone so keep her in your thoughts. 

 Here we go.

The is the route. The initial destination was Goshen, Indiana and the Forest River Owners Group RV Rally in mid August. Campsite #21 on the above map.

I was lucky in being able to catch some pretty good sunsets during the earlier campgrounds. They were harder to find later on in the trip.

The setting sun was back there somewhere, but the sky put on a nice show.

Another good one. This one reminded me of some sunsets out west in Arizona or New Mexico

And you have to have a sunrise too. This one was taken out my back window. It surprised me. The boats were lagniappe for the picture.

This picture was from one of the top 3 museums on the trip. It was The Museum of Native American History in Northwest Arkansas. I sat and looked at this painting for several minutes. It is telling the viewer so many different things. 

A typical Corps of Engineers lake. This is from a walk around the campground.

A view from the Castle in the Sky in southern Missouri

This is a picture in the Mark Twain Museum. It is of CCC Company 1743, "The Thunderbirds". They were an all black CCC company that helped build the Mark Twain State Park. Just like the painting of the Indians in the above picture, I looked at this one for a while too. Looking at each face in the picture tells a different story. I was impressed.

Americana somewhere in Iowa. This picture describes the heartland,,, Grain silos, American Flag and John Deere.

The Mayflies were swarming during one of my stays in Iowa. This was a very small number of them. There were times when I couldn't hardly see out the window and they would cover the side of Liberty. I've seen then at other times in the past and other places, but his was a surprise. 

This was from the last COE campground on the first leg of the trip. It was very peaceful.

If you're going to pass through farm country, you have to get a picture of a narrow country road with corn on both sides.

This is the tornado damage to Freedom. This storm was the first one I left Liberty and ran for cover in a block building. Not a good time, but memorable.

This picture will represent the Illinois River. That tow boat is headed to the locks with the dam in the background. The big red building is the old Nabisco Building. It has a history of its own. This picture was taken while looking out Liberty's door. 

One of these times I'm going to wish I wasn't wandering around deserted country roads. I was rewarded with a nice military memorial at the end of this road. Strange location for it, but very nice. 

Four corners in the country-side of Illinois. I like the building and wished I knew it's history. There was so little traffic, I could have ate my lunch and not have to move. 

Ya'll take care of each other. Maybe I'll Cya down the road.

Thanksgiving and Memory Time (A short story)

 Location: Heart of Haynesville RV Park; Mansfield, Louisiana

I know I was suppose to post a follow-up with pictures of the "wows" on the last trip but I'm still sorting through the many hundreds of pictures. So instead, I figured I was post this short story that popped in my head yesterday while I was waiting on my laundry to finish. 

One of the main reasons I started this blog over 10 years ago was to leave a record to my kids and grandkids of what the old man was doing during these times of my life. I guess, I've accidentally started writing down short stories as they pop in my head. Oh well, I hope it won't be a regular thing but the good news is it forces the memory demons to go sit in a corner while I type one up.

Thanksgiving and Memory Time

It had been almost a year since Dad passed away and joined Mom in heaven. Thanksgiving was coming up quickly. It was always the one holiday of the year where Mom and Dad encouraged, almost requiring, that all family members must gather together as one. For the last forty years, Thanksgiving had always been about cooking old family recipes, making new memories and remembering old ones. Since Mom and Dad were no longer with us, a couple of the kids had been dropping hints that they wouldn’t be attending this year. There was talk about being too busy with other things and the drive being too far. It looked as though the Thanksgiving tradition would soon end and be forgotten.

Dad had been in the Alzheimer’s wing of the local hospital ever since Mom passed away. It was as if his memories meant something different to him after she passed. Their shared memories had become his Silent Echoes as he became lost inside of himself. Dad always knew the day was coming when he would lose his memories because he went through it with his father.  Mom and Dad talked about that painful time with us kids as we were growing up. I guess that was one of the reasons for the “Memory Time” at Thanksgiving. None of us knew when it started. It was just something we always did on Thanksgiving. After eating the holiday food and everything had been cleaned up, Dad would always declare with a loud voice, “It’s Memory Time”. Sometimes we would groan and complain but always complied and gathered around the table. Of course, Dad would start by recalling a favorite memory and usually telling a story that we all had heard numerous times before. But sometimes, it was a new memory and we all sat in quiet fascination. After he finished his memory, he would say, “Next up is my sweet wife”. Mom would tell her memory and it would go on and on like that as all the kids, in order of their ages, would each tell their memory.

A few of us thought it was fortunate that Alzheimer’s took over Dad between the time of Mom’s passing and Thanksgiving so he never had to do Memory Time without her next to him. We never thought of it as a tradition, I guess because of our young ages, but now, looking back it had became a treasured family tradition. If the gathering of the family for Thanksgiving was going to end, so would Memory Time. We all knew this Thanksgiving was going to be different and sad.

It was agreed amongst all of the kids that everyone would attend Thanksgiving this year but made no promises about future ones. The girls did the cooking like they had since Mom passed and as usual, the dinner was great. I’m sure everyone was wondering about Memory Time and looked to me to begin it since I was the oldest. I thought to myself, “maybe this is the first year with it”. Before anyone could say anything, there was a loud knock at the door. Everyone looked puzzled as to who it could be since everyone was already here. I volunteered to go to the door and see who was interrupting our holiday time. As I opened the door, I saw Mr. Jenkins. He had been Mom and Dad’s lawyer for years and years. We all knew there was something between Dad, Mom and him but never knew exactly what it was. I know the three of them had gone to school together because that was one of Dad’s favorite memories he always told. It was about how Mr. Jenkins had a crush on Mom in high school but that Dad won her over. Dad told that story with pride and it always caused Mom to blush as she thought about two men trying to outdo each other for her attention. Although we pressed each of them with questions, neither would give any specific details about exactly what happened. Dad would always end the story the same way and since all of us kids had heard it so many times, we knew the ending well. We knew what he was going to say and would say it with him. “The best man won”.

Now Mr. Jenkins was here, but why? With a sad face and teary eyes, he held out an envelope to me. He said, “Your Dad wanted me to give this to your family on Thanksgiving. I guess the best man really did win after all”. After saying thanks to Mr. Jenkins he left and I returned to the family with the envelope. With all eyes on me, I slowly opened it. I recognized the handwriting immediately; it was not only Dad’s but also Moms’. How could this be? Everyone was clamoring for me to read the letter out loud, so I started reading.

 

Dearest Family,

If everything worked out right, ole Jenkins should have just delivered this letter. Many years ago, your mother and I knew there would come a day when we wouldn’t be here with ya’ll, so we made a plan. We got with Jenkins and asked him to deliver this letter after we passed on. We just couldn’t let Thanksgiving pass without us participating in at least one more Memory Time. In bold capital letters, it read, It’s Memory Time. Although it was me saying it, everyone was hearing Dad’s booming voice. The part of the letter in Dad’s handwriting started into a memory that all of us knew so well. But now it included some of the details we had never heard before. It was about the time before he and Mom started dating. Apparently, he and Mr. Jenkins had been close friends for years, almost like brothers. A new girl moved to town and all of the boys were head over heels for her. As usual, boys of that age were shy around girls and only a few had the courage to talk to them. On a Monday, Dad said he confided in “Jenkie” (wow, we learned Mr. Jenkins had a nickname) that he was going to ask that new girl (Mom) out on a date for Friday. Well, Mr. Jenkins said, “Not if I ask her first”. With that said, they both raced up to Mom blabbering “will you go out with me, will you go out with me?” It scared her at first because she was new in town and really didn’t know many people. Well, Mom being Mom, said, “I’m having a hard time choosing between two such handsome boys. Whatever will I do?” After several minutes, while the boys were pushing and shoving each other, she firmly stated. “I will give my answer on Friday morning and whoever I choose will take me to the movies and buy me some popcorn with extra butter.” After more new details about the beginning of their life together, Dad ended his portion of the letter with, “The best man won”. Of course, the next sentence was “Next up is my sweet wife”.  Mom’s memory was short and sweet consisting of only one sentence. She stated, “I knew I was choosing your Dad on that Monday, but made him wait until Friday”.

There wasn’t a dry eye in the family as I finished reading their memories. Then I noticed the P.S. at the bottom. It read,

“We have prepared many letters with memories just like this one to be delivered at future Thanksgivings. We realize ‘Jenkie’ won’t be around forever, but he has assured us that his son, who is taking over his law office, will deliver them in the future. We won’t say how many there are in hopes that it will encourage everyone to continue attending Thanksgiving and Memory Time for years to come. We will be there too.”

With much love,

Mom and Dad.

9/19/2024

As I was searching through my old bench pictures to include on in this post, I remembered this one. It's not the prettiest place but the "glider bench" was comfortable as I waited on my laundry. The building on the right is the campground laundry. This was at Crystal Spring Campground in Ellendale, Minnesota back in June of 2018.

Ya'll take care of each other. Maybe I'll Cya down the road. 

Trip Stats and Random Thoughts

 Location: Rocky Point COE Campground on Lake Wright-Patman; about 12 miles southwest of Texarkana, Texas

This is one of the campgrounds I use to un-wind or decompress after a long trip. A lot of the time on trips, I feel like I'm almost on "fast-forward" which sounds strange because I'm really at peace while traveling. Perhaps it's the feeling of being "on-guard" due to being in strange places all the time. There are times on my trips where every single thing I see, besides Freedom and Liberty, are brand new. Even Walmart stores are slightly different than each other. Heck, just the other day I had to google the Walmart store I was in just to find out where they did the bottled water. With so many new things being sent to my brain on a new trip, it takes a while to sort it all out and discard the meaningless stuff and file away the important things. I think I need a new Administrative Assistant to handle that chore. Anyone know where to place that help wanted ad??

Campsite #4 with Lake Wright-Patman in the background. The next site farther down on the peninsula is the best site, but it wasn't available.

As I rounded Liberty for a little walk around the campground, I saw this staring me down. She/he stared at me as we walked parallel to each other for a while. It was a little surreal for a little while. 

This would be a nice campsite with a great view out the back window.

A look back at Liberty from the dock at the boat ramp

Remember that deer from earlier? Well he/she brought their gang back around sundown. This is looking out my back window. Fortunately, no brawl ensued. 

Before I get into the highlights of the trip, here are some raw statistics: 8 states (Texas, Oklahoma, Arkansas, Missouri, Iowa, Illinois, Indiana and Kentucky). None of them are new states for me and for those wondering, there are still 2 states in the lower 48 that I haven't been to which are Delaware and Rhode Island. Nope, I don't have any plans in going there just to claim those states. The trip lasted 97 days with 56 days in 17 COE campgrounds, 33 days in 9 state parks and 8 days in 1 county park at the FROG Rally. The average cost per night was $17.35, which I'm OK with that number. I stayed in the state parks simply because I couldn't find any conveniently located COE's. The state parks were about 2 1/2 times more expensive without any additional benefits. At least I didn't have to stay in a privately owned campground which would have been 4 to 5 times as expensive.

I confirmed that 3 days per campground is just about right with 4 nights being OK if I need a little rest or there is more to see in an area. I was very disappointed with 4 to 5 campgrounds where I couldn't get a strong and reliable cell signal which meant no internet. I still haven't figured out the reason for sure but will blame in on the "cell phone industry". I do remember some Democrats promising Rural Broadband several years ago. Instead of things getting better, they got worse. Makes a person go,,,,hmmmmm.

Overall it was a good trip even with having to run for shelter from a tornado warning, getting Freedom's windshield shattered from that storm, having a slow leak in one of Freedom's tires and the poor cell phone coverage. I also started feeling worn out? lack of energy? lethargic? lack of pep in my step? for the last couple of weeks of the trip. I'm not sure the cause of that and still thinking on it. I hope it's not something physical.  

Some folks have wondered about the memory demons that I've spoken about in the past. I'm happy and proud to say they only came out to play a couple of times on the trip and were quickly defeated. Most of them have learned to only come out when I give them permission to do so, so I can personally deal with them. I've realized for a long time that these demons will always be with me and never go away permanently. Maybe it's a side effect of traveling alone? The problem is when they come out and surprise me then there is a problem. That doesn't happen nearly as often now-a-days. I believe, simply by recognizing them for what they are, I've already won most of the battle. 

I was reminded of a song today that has thought provoking lyrics. The name of the song is "Goodbye Time". It has been sung by at least 2 artists (Conway Twitty and Blake Shelton). I personally like the Shelton version since he recorded it early in his career when he was much better. The lyric lines that I like are: "If being free is worth what you leave behind and if it's too late for love to change your mind, Then it's Goodby Time." Granted, this song is more about losing love in a relationship and then having to leave, but it also applies to a lot more. Think about "Freedom". It means so much. Two big ones are freedom to say want you want and to worship your God the way you want. But there are many others that aren't a big as those two but still very important. For Full-time RV Travelers, one freedom is the ability to go where we want, when we want. To turn left, right, go straight or U-turn. To stop for an hour or a week and to return to home base when we want. The song lyric equates freedom and what you leave behind. Of course we have to remember what Janis taught us in her song, "Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose." 

Everything has it's price, even freedom. Military veterans understand that price more than most people. Like another saying says, "A veteran is someone, who at one point in their life, wrote a blank check payable to the United States of America for an amount up to, and including, their life." Yep, our freedoms are worth fighting for.

I had planned to leave today to get back to home base early this afternoon but the rain forecast has caused me to stay an extra day. There is no reason to risk driving in or setting up in the rain and mud. And since this campsite was available, I took that as a sign to stay.

I will make another post in a day or so with mostly pictures of the highlights of the trip. 

This is from my campsite about 30 minutes before sundown.

I only had to walk about 100 yards to find a clear view of the lake. 

Ya'll take care of each other. Maybe I'll Cya down the road.

  

Willow Beach & Indian Mounds

 Location: Willow Beach COE Campground; North Little Rock, Arkansas

I've stayed at this small and quiet campground several times over the years. It's location is perfect for me when returning to Louisiana from the north or east. With so many stays, I've explored most everything around the area including some urban locations in Little Rock. This time I opted to explore some Indian Mounds at an Archaeological site nearby. I didn't do any in depth exploring of the site like I have at similar locations in years past, but did do enough to know a little about the people who left the mounds behind.

I think I've been slacking in posting travel pictures so here is one of northeast Arkansas. To the one who wanted to see travel pictures, I'm still keeping my promise. :)

My campsite with a off-shoot of the Arkansas River in the background. 

Later in the evening of day 1 a front passed through that brought mostly wind, but some light rain. I'm camped under a pecan tree so about a dozen fell on Liberty. Yeah, I had visions of the tornado/storm from earlier in the trip.

The view out my back window. I've grown to like these a lot.

I've explored many Indian mounds around the country and find them interesting. Most of the time I feel as though the "experts" are trying to convince me about the truth of their interpretations or as I like to call them, "wild ass guesses". But, for some reason, the "mound builders" were busy for a while doing something that is hard to explain. I've always asked the same question to the experts. "Why would people who were hunter/gatherers and mostly just trying to survive put so much effort into piling up dirt"? The best answer I've gotten was the mound was an annual or semi-annual gathering spot for separate tribes in the area. The tribes would gather at the same location to trade, learn things, look for spouses, etc. It was similar to what the Mountain Men of the Rockies used to do  annually at their "rendezvous". While there, they would put add dirt on the mound to mark the spot until they met again. There was probably a competition between tribes as to which could add more dirt. After many, many years, the mound grew higher and higher. This theory doesn't apply as strongly to the mounds around here. These mounds were surrounded by a moat and palisades. Defensive structures? Maybe. Too much of a puzzle for a simple man that is just passing through.

 

Those are the mounds in the background. The park has a nice paved path with descriptions posted along the way. There is also a semi-nice museum to wander through.

Other than that short exploration trip, I've just been hanging around the campsite and doing some walks. I've used this campground before to decompress after a long trip and am doing the same thing now. 

This is from the evening of the second night. Seems the front is hanging around.

Tomorrow is moving day and I'll be heading to the 27th and final campground of this trip. As with Willow Beach, it will be a campground that I've stayed at before. It is a great place for sunsets over Wright Patman Lake and I hope to see a couple while there. I think I'm ready to relax for another 3 days before finally getting home.

Picture #1 of the sunset last night

This is picture #2 of the sunset. I couldn't decide between this picture and the one above, so I posted both. 

 Ya'll take care of each other. Maybe I'll Cya down the road.

First and Last Freedom - (A Short Story)

 Location: Willow Beach COE Campground, "A little past Little Rock" (bonus points if you know the song).

Caution: this is not an RV traveling post so leave now if that is what you expect. If not, read on at your own risk.

As ya'll know, I've been in some campgrounds on this trip in which I couldn't get a good cell signal and without a cell signal, I don't have internet. Combine that lack of internet with a dwindling desire to explore those locations and I found myself taking longer walks around the campground. Just like me and "thinking benches", my walks are usually "thinking walks". Sometimes that thinking will take the form of a fictional short story. Of course, although fictional, there is always a large piece of truth in the story. This is one such story:

First and Last Freedoms

After dinner, he walked up behind her chair and brushed her grey hair away from her ear. He leaned over and kissed her gently on the cheek. No one in the room paid much attention because this was a routine that was established many decades earlier. Had they been paying attention, they might have seen him whisper two words in her ear and may have overhead him tell her, “Tonight, midnight.” She instantly knew what those words meant and they brought a big smile to her face. Their teenage grandson saw her smile and jokingly asked her if she had gas. She laughed a little and cryptically replied, “No, but we will probably get some later tonight”. Her husband gently squeezed her shoulder as if to say, “Don’t give away our secret”. Nobody picked up on the clue and their grandson just thought both of them were a little crazy. He was waiting at midnight as the porch light came on and she walked out the door.

It’s strange how the years go by so quickly. One minute you are a teenager with a brand new driver’s license and a cheap car that barely runs. The next you’re a 76 year old man whose driver’s license is about to expire and you know it won’t be renewed. That driver’s license has always represented freedom but the time was near when that would end. Oh, their kids are trying to make it easier by saying we will be “chauffeured” from now on as if that will make losing the freedom easier to handle.

My wife and I met on the day I got my first driver’s license. We were both at the Driver’s License Bureau, each taking the written test. I noticed her right away but she was too distracted with the test. After I completed the driving portion and received my license, I decided to hand around the parking lot in hopes of meeting the girl. She had pitch black hair with green eyes. I had never seen such a combination and it captivated me. I hadn’t noticed anything else about her because I couldn’t get beyond the hair and eyes and that bothered me a little bit. As I was daydreaming about her and my new license, she came walking by and almost bumped into me. She was obviously sad and mad so I asked her what was wrong. She told me that she had failed the test and would have to wait two months before being able to take it again. I boldly told her that I had gotten my license and would be glad to take her anywhere she wanted to go. She wasn’t sure if I was making fun at her failing the test or if I was serious. She decided to test me. She gave me her address and told me to be there at midnight and she would leave the house when the porch light came on.  I silently thought, “Wow, I’ve hit the jackpot”, but knew that wasn’t the right answer so I tried to be cool and stammered, “Sure, I’ll be there”.

He arrived at her house fifteen minutes early and waited for the porch light to come on. At the stroke of midnight, the light came on and she opened the door. She wasn’t sure he would actually be there so she looked around until she saw his car then walked steadily and confidently to it. She stopped at the passenger door and waited. I asked her what was wrong and she curtly replied, “A gentleman always opens the door for a lady”. That was the first of many lessons she would teach me over a life-time. I hurriedly got out and ran to the other side to open the door. She got in and sat down in a true lady-like fashion. After I crawled back behind the steering wheel, I realized that I didn’t have a clue on where to go. I asked her, “Where to”? She replied, “I thought you would know”. We both laughed and that broke the ice for the evening. I told her that I needed to stop for gas, hoping it would impress her with my ability to pump it and pay for it. After fueling up and still with no destination in mind, we agreed to just drive around and enjoy our freedom. Hours passed, and we talked about everything. We told each other about our past and plans for the future. It was as if we had known each other our entire lives. It was during those hours of simply driving around that our two lives became one life.

For the next sixty years, we were never farther apart than necessary. Whenever life felt like it was crashing around us, one of us would always say, “Tonight, midnight” and we would just drive and talk until it felt ok to go home.

Tomorrow, my license will expire and our freedom will be reduced, but tonight, in our minds and memories, we will both be sixteen year old kids again just driving around.  

Darrell Goza

August 21, 2024

Taken on a trip to Galveston before I retired and started full-timing. It was a couple of senior (seasoned) citizens walking along the beach. I watched them until they were almost out of sight. It was a comfortable feeling. 

Ya'll take care of each other. Maybe I'll Cya down the road.