Where Art Thou?

I spoke yesterday of taking me Mom through the neighborhoods of Romeo, Michigan a couple of Sundays ago. God bless her, her memory had been fading for a while. She asked constantly, "Now where are we?"

"Romeo," I'd answer.

Mom would nod that she understood, then she'd smile broadly and recite happily, "Romeo, Romeo, where art thou Romeo?" This happened about every five minutes the entire hour or so we cruised Romeo's streets. I could have told her a different city, but then she'd surely ask, "Isn't this Romeo?" because that's what happens, right? I didn't feel I ought to play games with her like that anyway.

Still, things quickly reached the point where I thought, "If I hear Romeo, Romeo, just one more time I swear I'll, I'll..."

...I'll do absolutely nothing but chuckle at it again. Just like I am right now.

Romeo in March?

Yesterday morning as I drove out the Van Dyke Freeway north of Detroit I found myself in familiar territory. So familiar in fact that as I neared the exit for Romeo, Michigan, my brain sent out the command, "Turn on your left turn signal". I ignored it.

About a quarter mile further along the road my brain again said, just a bit more insistently, "Turn on your turn signal". I kept moving.

Soon I was perilously near the exit. My brain enunciated very clearly, "Turn. On. Your. Left. Signal."

I drove past the Romeo exit. "You missed your turn!" my brain exclaimed.

No I didn't, Marty's brain. I wasn't going to Romeo. I was going to Imlay City about 25 miles beyond there to deliver two drain snakes and a cable. What gave my brain conniptions was that I am seldom that far north on the Van Dyke Freeway unless I'm going to the orchards around Romeo. For coming up on 40 years now, you understand, my family and I have went to Romeo in the fall for apples and pumpkins. My brain expected I was going there.

Why does it seem odd to be in familiar places at the wrong time? It did indeed feel weird to be near Romeo and not buying apples. In fact it felt odd to be there without the fall colors, seeing pumpkins all over the fields, and without taking the time to feed the goats behind what has become a regular stop when in the area, a neat little store called Frontier Town (whom I don't mind at all giving a plug; you should go there). It really seemed as though I should not have been near Romeo at all.

I suppose there's a psychological explanation for it. Ah well; explanations or not, I did have to stop at Frontier Town on the way back home to take in the aroma of its coffee, buy a couple pounds of it, and spend a few minutes trading tales with the proprietor. My brain felt better for it too.