#8 Trail of Tears

What was originally meant to be an overnight trip had turned into ten days. As mentioned earlier, my angels were being worked overtime, and somehow I had made it 2,000 miles to my family's home. When my uncle looked underneath the hood of my van, he found that a belt had snapped and pieces were all over the engine. He immediately made arrangements with someone to fix it. Not only did the mechanic fix the belt, but he also repaired the hood that was literally taped and wired on. Once he had finished washing the grime off of it, the van looked practically new. As a welcoming present from my family, 2 aunt's and an uncle, the repairs were paid for. I was truly grateful. And now, it was finally time to complete the last leg of my journey. Unfortunately, it was also finally time to say goodbye to Mr. Sweet 16.


Over the course of that ten days, we had met a couple more times. It had turned out that he was a  Scout leader and that his pack had planted greenery and had restored beauty to various parks around the area. When we went to those parks he pointed out what "his" boys had done, as he beamed with pride like a proud papa would have. Then, for what we considered as our final goodbye, we met at a park fittingly called Trail of Tears. He had told me the history of the park, how it was one of the stops of the Native Americans  when they had been led by foot from their lands and how many had died along the way. And then for the rest of the time, we sat there in total silence and watched the wind blow through the trees. It was as if nature was performing a beautiful ballet, trees dancing to the tune of the wind. The leaves swirled and framed a funnel cloud making it more visual as it twirled down to the ground.  No words passed between us. We respected the moment as though we knew we may not see each other again. I tried desperately to burn every moment into long term memory for recalling at a later date. And then he turned and looked into my eyes, but all he saw was sadness. The trail of tears that day had become mine.

They were mine as I had recalled how I had arrived at this point. Back in the 80's, in an effort to cut the distance between us, this man had joined the military to try and be stationed in California, which is where I was located for college. He succeeded and before he was deployed overseas he had come to visit me one last time in 1981 to try and mend things between us. However, my heart was hardened. The hurt was still too fresh from the summer he had never showed and had stopped writing. In 1981, I was determined not to get hurt again, what a joke. He left that year to go overseas, where he would eventually meet his wife to be. Whatever heartache I had caused him in the past, was now mine to bear. I wouldn't have wished it upon my worst enemy. "And this too shall pass", that's what I told myself to get by.

The time had come for me to continue my journey to Tennessee, but I had one more stop to make. I only had to drive one hour to Nashville to see my father's brother and his wife. And as an added bonus my other uncle from California was visiting them. What a treat! I got a little bit of California after almost completing my 2,000+ mile trip. I had not seen my Nashville relatives since my father's funeral back in 2002. I had looked forward to seeing them again. My pit stop was the city of the Grand Ole Opry and home to my parent's college, Tennessee State. When I drove into the driveway, happiness and excitement had become welcomed long forgotten friends!

To Be Continued...

The grave sites and statues of Chiefs White Path and Fly Smith.
The Trail of Tears
from
http://www.hoptownrec.com/

Yea! The Van! Good as New :o)
by JaMax

  

#7 Purging

It was day 5 of my journey and the only reason I wasn't overwhelmed with thoughts of leaving my old life was because of the road trip and the adventure of it all. There I was out on the open highway trying to out drive a tornado warning as I drove through Kansas. That was a 12 hour driving day, one of my longest. I had managed to get through Kansas and then stopped in Missouri. When I finally settled down, I realized I was a day's drive away from the possibility of seeing Mr. Sweet 16. (See #2 & #5) He had asked, since I was driving through his state, if maybe I could swing by for a hi after what, 30 years. I feared I had made a big mistake contacting him because I realized I still cared. But I also knew in my heart that this was more of the beginning of an end, that would wrap up an old chapter in my life. Indeed, this was the start of the purging of old loves and infatuations.

The next morning, I got up ready to continue on my way through St. Louis. Because I had never been there, I had decided to take the time out to be a tourist. So, I did the only stop of the trip that was one solely based on fun, I stopped to see the Arch. This was the first time that I had felt a little alone. Normally I would have been sharing this moment with someone, my children, my ex, a relative, someone. But there I was alone walking and taking pictures of the Arch without another to share my thoughts with. I did however, managed to enjoy my little tourist moment for the most part, and then got back into the car heading closer to my destination with fate.

It was a sad thing hoping for a little help, hoping that Mr. Sweet 16 was fat and balding. But then I realized I wasn't that shallow and that it really didn't matter because of the circumstances. It was a bittersweet time, I was happy to see him and unhappy that nothing could every be like it was. I was at my relatives home at this point and was only 4 hours away from my final destination. The first meeting with "Mr." was short and sweet. He came by and picked me up in his truck. Then we drove around as we listened to "Our Song" and caught up even more with where the last 30 years had taken us. Two days before I had been 7 years old,  now here I was 16 again. As we kissed goodbye, (a socially acceptable one), he asked if I would be available to meet one more time before I left. I, of course, agreed to it.

When we met the next time, he took me to his favorite park where he went to run, walk, and to sit and think. It was there that he showed me his Senior year book and asked me to sign the space he had left for me to sign. The page was called, Someone Special.  I asked if I could take the book with me to sign and he agreed. I had wanted to take my time and really meditate on what I was going to say. He too had kept every card and letter that I had mailed and I had brought my 25 letters for him to see again. There we were sitting and reading what we had said back in the day, when we were yet still, young and innocent.

Later that night I went to bed and thought very carefully about what I would say in his memory year book. It went a little something like this: "You will always have a very special place in my heart." There was more but I truly can't remember what. And of course it was done in a politically correct way. For this was real life and not a movie, song, or romance novel. That night I fell asleep listening to "Our Song", and yes, I cried. Tomorrow I would be giving back the book signed and it would start the beginning of the end of an era.

To Be Continued...



Looking Back, Moving Forward by JaMax
The Kansas sunset in my side rear-view mirror.

The St. Louis Arch
by JaMax

   

#6 Time Travel

It's an amazing thing to be 48 years old and then suddenly you're 7. But that's what was about to happen as I pulled up to my god-father's house in Denver. As I got out of the van he said to me,"You're 7 years old, what are you doing driving?" Then he told me how he had heard my van coming down the street way before I had even appeared. It truly was a miracle that the van had made it that far at all. Before leaving California, it had set in my driveway for about 6 months. It turned out that the same day that I had secured a new position, my car broke down and never ran again until I made the decision to move to Tennessee. It was then that finances were made available to fix it. For the record, I don't believe in coincidences.

As I walked closer for the teddybear hug from my god-father, I was transformed into that young girl of 7 that he had called out. All of the responsibilities of being an adult just melted away. He, his wife, and I all went out to dinner that night and stayed up late talking. What was suppose to be an overnight stay, eventually turned out to be a two night retreat. During that short stay I got a special treat, I got to sit in the overstuffed Lazyboy and go through album after album of my god-father's photos that he had taken during he and my parents' college years. I absolutely loved looking upon what was probably the happiest years of my parents' time together. Later on down the road, when I was in the 5th grade, my parents divorced. Fortunately, being the oldest of two children I still have very fond memories of those times before the divorce. And then my god-father handed me albums of year after years of me growing up that even included my own college time, up to the younger years of my two children.

As the second day kicked in, I realized it was time to cast my eyes forward and to transform back again to the age of 48. It had been a wonderful two days and a great comfort after the reminder of the heartache of a lost past love. (See #5 Mr. Sweet 16) Once again I found myself in a position of not wanting to leave but my path was in front of me, still filled with new adventures. Part of the two day stay had also involved the researching of the noise that my god-father had heard upon me pulling up two days prior. If only I could have had a video camera to shoot footage of he and his wife, whom I call my aunt, underneath the hood of the van. Before I left they had insisted on filling up the tank, checking the oil, and taping the hood back on. Prior in California, I had been in an auto accident the previous year and I had never gotten the body work repairs done. So, my hood needed taping.

As I pulled away, my heart ached still again as I slowly turned back to 48 and longed for just one more bear hug. Oh to be 7 again! But I was on the road once more, and my next stop was Missouri. Little did I know how hard my angels were working to get me cross country. I would find out later that there really was something going on underneath that taped hood.

To Be Continued...




Salt Lake City to Denver
Photo by JaMax

 


My parents in college
Photo by C. Glenn

   

#5 Mr. Sweet 16

I want to go back to Day 2 of the drive. If it wasn't bad enough that I was weeping while listening to "Our Song" I happen to leave out that I was also getting phone calls and text messages from "Mr. Sweet 16" (see #2 The Two Week Pack) checking on how I was doing. He was concerned, as all my family was, about my safety driving cross country alone. He was genuinely a nice guy. A, he's married with two children and I'm celibate, nice guy. That's what I continued to tell myself to keep me from mentally falling off the wagon. The sad truth about falling off the celibacy wagon is, whenever in the past I had, the sex was never as sweet as I had imagined it. And of course, it was never, ever worth it. But back to the matter at  hand. There I was getting these text messages:

16: Just got home. I'm looking at a picture of you.

Me: 2+ sizes ago don't do it

16: Too late I'm looking at a beautiful smile and a face that radiates the essence of what beauty was meant to be. 

Me: How did I let you go?

16: Don't know some think the grass is greener on the other side. I think if you water & nourish what you have and what makes you happy you will be the envy of the other side. But I guess that's why we have choices. 

Just think about it, our society is always thinking the grass is greener on the other side. But back when we were in high school, how could I not think that there weren't other experiences out there waiting for me. But you're probably wondering, what really went wrong back in the day between us?  Long story short, he left me waiting for him. Waiting to come and see me, when I had come into his town for what was to be, a short visit. We had met when I was 16 while on a previous summer's vacation. After that, over the next two years we had communicated by mail and phone calls. But this particular visit I never got to see him. Long story short, my heart broke the day he never showed up. I was never the same. The young, giddy, love-sick girl was gone, never to be seen again. I vowed I'd never let anyone hurt me like that again. In fact, the almost regular letters that had spanned over the previous two years had suddenly stopped too. Until one day, months later, a letter came explaining what had happened the day he never showed up:

When you called me I knew there was no way for me to see you but I wanted to so badly that I lied to you. So I thought that I could escape a little bit of pain by not writing you anymore. Instead of escaping pain I only felt more. Please forgive me, I made you feel some pain too & I'm very sorry. I love you from the bottom of my heart & I want you to love me that way too. And I know some day (hopefully soon) we can be together. I only hope I didn't wait too late to tell you this. Love Always...

Well, I forgave him and we continued to write but I was never the same. Little did I know that love could be found at such a young age. By the time we had finished writing each other over the years, our letters had spanned a period of time from Aug.1979 - Oct. 1981. And as the years passed, I was always looking for that romantic side in others, that I had found in him. He had become the standard to judge all others by. What a shame since he was not the rule but the exception, even now as I read my text messages: 

16: Not to get too sentimental but if it were up to me I would have liked to have been apart of all your life's adventures. I know we would have had a great time :)

Tears ran down my face as I worked through the 2nd half of a bag of peanut M&M's, as fond thoughts of "The Bed" (see #4 In Love Again) kept me from mentally falling off the wagon. Next stop, Denver.

To Be Continued...

Wagon Food see #4 In Love Again

 

#4 In Love Again!

After finally getting some rest in Reno it was off to Salt Lake City. To add to the adventure of it all, I think I should share that I've barely made it into the 20th century let alone the 21st century. My van not only was lacking in air but it was equipped with a cassette player and radio. Remember those small card size plastic things with the brown ribbon? Anyone born in the late 80's might be lost right now. Well fortunately I found a device that allowed me to put something in the cassette player to convert to iPod friendly playing. My other downfall of not being tech savvy was, no GPS. I was traveling across country pulling up AAA on my cell phone that only had Ghettro (aka Metro PCS) service. As I traveled, sometimes it was there, sometimes it was not.

My original plan was to cross Nevada at night so I wouldn't have to deal with the heat and plus I love night driving. Well, hotels don't allow you the luxury of night checkout times, so that plan was foiled. But while driving across the desert in the day, I found it nice to be able to see road kill before driving right up on it. So there I was driving along minding my own business, and then it happened, "Our Song" played on my iPod. Thoughts of a love lost long ago played with my emotions. (See #2 The Two Week Pack) I continued on as I wiped a tear and avoided hitting a dead armadillo in the road.

My original plan was to stay at a Bed & Breakfast to treat myself on this 2000+ mile trip. I had used my AAA site to find a B&B in Salt Lake. I had made several failed attempts to confirm at the B&B. These attempts had failed because I had no signal to verify my arrival (Ghettro). When I was almost there I finally got to call only to find they had given my room away. Earlier, they had not wanted to take my card info over the phone saying it wasn't necessary. Hmm. So there I was in Salt Lake after a long desert haul with no room.

Fortunately, the B&B referred me to a restored hotel in downtown Salt Lake. I loved it. Let me restate it more clearly, I loved the bed. It was the most comfortable bed I had every slept in, in my life!!! I didn't want to leave. I had never felt that way before. Why? Why did I have to go? What would happen if  I never made it that way again! NO, life is not fair! The morning had come and I had to say good bye. But my desire was if I couldn't stay I vowed I would return one day! I was, In Love Again! Yes, I had to tear myself away from - The Bed.  But the way it caressed me throughout the night, oh I would never forget that!

Maybe now is a good time to mention that I'm celibate.  No, not a virgin, remember I'm divorced with two children, just abstaining for now. I'm just trying to stay on the wagon and not fall off, that's all. FYI, with chocolate and this bed I think I could stay on the wagon forever!

To Be Continued...

The Bed
(photo by JaMax)

#3 Barbie Goes to Reno

When earlier I stated that I drove off into the sunset, I meant it literally. As soon as my van was packed I left. It just so happen that it was 5pm. All I needed to do was get to Reno. I had decided since my van's air-conditioning was not really working, to forgo the Texas southern route. I decided to travel the country from California to Kentucky, where I had family, and then down to Tennessee. So, there I was just me and my companion Barbie. I sat a Barbie doll in the front seat and renamed her Co-Pilot Barbie. (Don't go to the stores to find her, it's just my strange sense of humor.)

It turns out that while going through the various stages of a deteriorating marriage, I had become addicted to eBay. I found comfort in collecting Barbies. As a little girl I played with them and one year our family was in a flood and it wiped out my entire Barbie collection. So I went on-line trying to retrieve a little of my lost childhood. At first it wasn't so bad, a good deal here and there and then, the addiction set in. I was buying clothes, shoes, furniture, Byron Lars collections, & even crossed over into Fashion Royalty. If you can't follow at this point don't worry, only the hard core Barbie Collectors know what I'm talking about. Oddly enough, I quit cold turkey when my Ex and I separated and I didn't buy again for years.

Ok, so there we were, Co-Pilot Barbie and I winding our way to Reno. Please note that I have never driven to Reno by myself and I really didn't remember how the drive went when I did ride with someone else. Lord knows, if I had paid attention,  I would have driven in the day instead of taking off at dusk . The road from Northern California to Reno is steep and mountainous, and then there was road work! To me saying road work was equivalent to cussing. I hate road work and there I was in the mountains with headlights in my eyes, drops on the right side and what should have been a couple of hours, turned into I think 4 hours with slower speeds and one lane traffic each way.

But we finally made it. I was soooo happy to hit the bed that night. My first day was out of the way, day two's destination, Salt Lake City.  

To Be Continued...

Co-Pilot Barbie
(Photo by JaMax)

#2 - The Two Week Pack

So, let me go back to my two week pack so things will make sense from this point on. (Note - if you haven't read 2010 It  Begins! you may want to read it before this one.) As I had mentioned earlier, I'm a pack rat. While going through my papers, I found love letters about 25 of them, from the same person from when I was 16. You may be asking, did I stop cleaning and packing to read them? Oh yes, you bet I re-read them. Wouldn't you? Needless to say I re-lived a first love and what do you think happened? Yes, now with me reading them I looked at my life in hindsight, what, 30 years later. I also re-fell in love.

Had I found these letters, pre no privacy internet age, I would have just continued on with packing. But no!!! We live in the age where you can find someone's shoe size if you really wanted to. For the record, I don't want to know anyone's shoe size. But I digress, back to the teenage love, I Googled him. As if fate wanted a reunion, I found a possible email address and what looked to be his home phone number. All this without paying for extra info. I wrote it down and that's when the burning in my pocket began. I was 30 years older and 3 sizes larger. What in the world was I even thinking about. Was he even still alive? The chances were good since I found a number. What if he was married with children? I'm so silly what was I thinking that I would call and we would pick up where we left off? That he would still care? How silly of me. But maybe I couldn't think straight because by this time I had been packing for almost a week and a half, night and day. Plus I was really thinking I'm perimenopausal, a term I recently had learned meaning pre pre menopausal.

Well, I started with a "is this you?" email. There was a special song that we shared and to test if this was the real person I asked for the name of the song as a test. Clever I thought. As the burning sensation continued in my pocket, I continued with the tasks and errands that would advance my departure, so I continued on with my to do list. I'll never forget, I was sitting in Sam's Club getting tires when the burning sensation increased. I was eating the combo hotdog and drink when I couldn't take it any more, I called. What had I done? My heart was beating faster, my pulse racing, these are not creative statements. I could feel my heart beating at a different rate, plus I'm older and over weight, like I said not creative statements to build the moment. He answered. I knew it was him without hearing his voice for over 30 years. When he knew it was me he laughed and said the name of "Our Song".

During the coarse of what I think was a 12 minute conversation I learned that he had married and had two children, a daughter and son almost the exact same ages as my children. Yes, life had continued on. But some things don't change, the fond memories of a first love. It was the first of many conversations to catch up and to stroll down memory lane. I had faced a fear and now I realized I was on my way to live in a city that was 4 hours away from where he lived. I thought to myself, who knows, maybe one day we'll meet again.

To Be Continued...

Old Love Letters
(Photo by JaMax)