Say Cheese

Me Pops had a good friend who hailed from Alabama, I'll call him Cloyce just to give him a name, who asked Dad for help driving his family down for a visit one summer. As this was in the days before the Interstate Highway system, it helped on long trips to have two drivers alternate in order to keep moving.

They left on a Friday a bit before Noon. I should add that this also was in the days where Catholics couldn't eat meat on any Friday of the year. Dad was a serious Catholic, even at 20 years old.

Anyway, they made great time, and found themselves approaching an all night diner well after dark. Cloyce gave Mrs. Cloyce some money and told her to buy him, her, and their kids some hamburgers. "But don't get Bill nothing with meat, he can't eat it today," were his final instructions.

Mrs. Cloyce returned a few minutes later with hamburgers. And a cheeseburger for me Pops.

When she realized the brain cramp Mrs. Cloyce apologized profusely. "Don't worry," Dad assured her, "It's about 11:30. Leave it on the dash and I can eat it in a half hour."

No harm, no foul, right?

Good Eats

As I was coming in from western Michigan on a sales trip yesterday, I found I had time to stop for a late lunch at one of the places me Pops liked. It's the 115 Truck Stop, located at Exit 115 on Interstate 94 about 100 miles west of Detroit. Where did they get the name from?

Anyway, I had chicken fried steak and boy howdy, was that some good eatin'. The steak was covered in sausage gravy and the hash browns were crispy and buttery and the scrambled eggs just right. It even came with pancakes, fluffy, light pancakes on which I poured too much syrup. But hell, my doctor was nowhere to been seen.

I've stopped there before when time and circumstances allowed and I surely will again. If it weren't so far away I'd be out there once a week just for that chicken fried steak. Even at that, a 200 mile round trip ain't so bad for good eats, is it?

The sigh moment

I made a trip to Electric Eel in Springfield, Ohio yesterday, just one of dozens (maybe a couple hundred) I've made in the last six years. It was uneventful, which is good. You don't really want eventful road trips as a rule because that nearly always means trouble. About the worst that happened was the sigh moment. Typically, there's one of those for me per road trip.

Yesterday it happened as I passed a Wendy's in Bellefountaine, Ohio. For whatever reason it popped into my head that one Friday years ago, me and me Pops stopped there for fish sandwiches for lunch. And a Frosty; you gotta have a frosty at Wendy's. Anyway, we actually had stopped at that particular fast food joint several times over the years. And I looked at it, merely sighing as I drove past.

At this point in my life I figured that me and Pops would be making these trips together regularly. I had in fact resolved that on his next birthday, when he would have turned 78, I was going to screw up my courage and insist that either me or my brother Phil go with him on all road trips. He was going to get the Son Speech, similar to the Doctor Speech we all get after a certain age. You don't need to be traipsing alone all over the country at your age Pops. You don't need to be trying to lift hundred pound boxes at all, let alone by yourself Pops. Me or Phil need to go with you on sales runs.

Obviously enough by now, I never got to make that speech. Maybe it's just as well on one count. I know the old man would have gotten his dander up to hear it. We'd have likely went around and around about it, reasonably politely to be fair and honest, before coming to tepid agreement. But it would have been uncomfortable for all involved.

Instead, I take road trips and see things which remind of old times. Places and haunts which he liked to stop at whether anyone was with him or not. Places I often stop at solely because he would have stopped there.

And I have the sigh moment. Then it's just on to my next destination.

Driving like me Pops (and me Grandpa Joe)

Hey Pops, how are you today?

Tonight I embark on the longest road trip of my life: just under 2,000 miles. I'm going to Tucson Arizona to visit your granddaughter. You know, the one who as a child mixed up your dress shoes so that you had to man a trade show with one black and one brown shoe. It was clever how you parlayed that into greater sales though. "My granddaughter dressed me," you explained to the bemused, many of whom were grandparents themselves and appreciated the point.

I'm going to stop at Amarillo, Texas overnight before finishing the journey. The internet (yeah, I feel like a weak Cosgriff consulting such modern ways and means) tells me that's 1287 miles. I can make that in a day, right? I know you've done better. One day I will challenge your mark.

A lot of people shake their heads at a drive like that, but hell, driving' ain't nuthin'. Between you and Grandpa Joe, I got a reputation to uphold. I'm actually thinking about cancelling the room in Amarillo and driving straight through, only that that granddaughter of yours would mother me over it if I did. But if we shouldn't drive, why would God give us cars, eh?

I'll let you know how it goes. We're intending to see the Grand Canyon over the weekend; wasn't that what you and your cousin Jim took a trip to see back in 1955? There were some stories there I bet.

Until next time,

Marty

Walking Tahquamenon

Tahquamenon Falls are a natural beauty found in Michigan's eastern Upper Peninsula. There are two falls a few miles apart. The walking trail between the two is around four miles long. I've walked it once, in 1994, with me two sons and me Pops.

We were vacationing in da U.P. as usual that summer and decided to see the Falls. Mom and Dad had come up for a few days and so went with us. While there I thought it would be cool to hike the trail. It was after the words expressing that wish came out of my mouth that I felt a pang of regret and concern. You see, Pops was between cancer treatments at the time and about six weeks ahead of scheduled surgery to remove a kidney. After I had opened my yap, he decided that walking the trail would be cool too. I surely would not have said anything had I thought he'd like the idea.

It was probably the first time I came close to confronting him seriously on anything as it was during the first period that I was really worried about his health. I told myself that maybe I ought to discourage him, with his cancer and all. The tumor was by that point diagnosed as inactive (I'm not sure the more expected term benign was accurate) and the MDs were certain that all other cancerous spots (he had them on his liver and lungs when the disease was initially found) had been eradicated. Still, I wasn't sure a 58 year old man dealing with such ought to be hiking a rough trail through the woods. And what would we do if something happened while we were out there? Yet as a son taught to respect his father's wishes, well, I said nothing and thought I'd just watch him closely. He likely wouldn't be denied anyway.

Damn but if that old man didn't hammer that trail. He more than kept up; he led the way more often than not. He always walked fast anyway, but I wonder if he took the hike to prove he could do it and was further determined to show us he could too. I had feared after his tribulations that his stamina would not allow the full journey. His stamina then proceeded to embarrass mine.

So I'm glad I suggested the hike and I'm glad he walked it with us. It's become a happy and proud memory. And as I'm 58 this year myself, I'm thinking that this summer I'll walk the trail in his honor.

What facebook told me on this very day

Hey Pops,

I rolled out of bed at 1:30 this morning to go to the plant, as you had done for so many years and we had done together far too little. I ran through the shower and had a shave to wake myself fully, then thought I'd check my e-mail and facebook right quick before I left. In its 'On This Day' reminder feature it had me remember that three years ago today you had had your surgery. Dang it facebook, you can be a jerk sometimes.

Well by then I had to read my post asking for prayers, feeling sadder every second. Then of course I had to read the comments, well over 40 by the way, of friends promising prayers and comfort. And as I read those posts I actually began to feel better. I saw how many people were in your corner wanting the best for you, even a bunch who never met you. I saw too that there was a support system in place for old Marty. That same support system that got me through the difficult months which followed.

I logged off, and grabbed CDs by Tom T. Hall and Johnny Cash. I thought they'd make good listening today. Nothing like the Storyteller and the Man in Black when out on the highway, right? We sang a couple of their songs together as the dawn broke on route 68. Then I met Mark at the Cracker Barrel for breakfast and we told each other many of the tales you told us over the years. Coming back home I took a big order which I just happened to be able to fill with the stock I had picked up from the factory.

So it's ended up a pretty good day after all. I really can't wait for the next one.

Until then, see ya Pops.

PS: I think you better whisper something to Mom. She's on a fix it kick and carries a hammer everywhere she goes. And as they say, she's eyeing every problem like it's a nail.