A few weeks ago when I unloaded my Chevy Trax before taking it to get it detailed inside and out I found a brand new antenna---still in its original packaging---just like the one on top of the car. Try as I might---and I tried hard---I couldn’t remember why or how I got it. The Trax is a 2015 so it’s not like I had to search the ancient, dust crusted archives of my brain to find this bit of personal trivia and thank goodness it not the kind of data loss that advances a person on the game board of living on a continuum care campus to the next level of care. Nope. As long as I remember to wear a sufficient amount of clothing in public, layered in the correct order, and I don’t wander around at night calling a dog who died twenty years ago I should be fine. Still, I worry. Especially when the stupidest things pop out of my mouth and by the time I figure out the misinformation should be corrected it’s too late. Which brings me to one of the advantages of living where I’m moving to: No one will know me well enough to know if I’m acting out of character or relating misinformation about something in my past. It will be like being in my own Witness Protection Hide-Away. And if I'm lucky, the place will come stocked with a cute agent to keep me safe. What? That's the way it works in all the witness protection romance books I've read. (Quit rolling your eyes, you know I'm kidding.)
I got a call recently from the advertising director of the CCC who wanted to know if I’d appear in a TV interview about why I am moving into the place. It’s not the first time she’s asked but this time I gave her one of two honest answers as to why I will always say ‘no’ to that question. I told her my brain and my mouth are not always in sync and I don’t trust my mouth to have the good sense and proper decorum that my brain has 24/7/365. She laughed because she’s been around me enough times at meetings to know that from time to time I tend to throw one-liners out for comic relief. If she asks me again I’ll give her the other honest answer and blurt out, “Are you crazy! Fat people don’t want to appear in TV commercials!” Fat people don’t like to do a lot of things because--- duh!---someone might notice the elephant in the room. Well, not literally an elephant sized person in the room but we ladies are lucky because women are not like guys who will point out to their friends: “You’ve put on a few pounds since I last saw you.”
That covers the memory part of this post now on to the memories. I went to the grocery store today and when I got there I grumbled with discontent because they had the audacity to be paving half of the parking lot. We’re talking about a store that measures their parking lot in acres not feet. Not only was the pungent odor of asphalt unavoidable but I was wearing white soled shoes and I didn’t want to walk across the designated parking area that looked like it had been resurfaced and line striped the day before.
My husband had a parking lot maintenance business that did snowplowing, sweeping, line striping and pot hole patching. Then a friend who managed the GM Union Hall asked him about resurfacing their parking lot and Don said, “I'll get you some bids.” He ended up being the general contractor for the job and thus another sideline was added to his business cards. Over the next five years he accumulating equipment and resurfaced a string of parking lots---the size of your local Applebees---and he had a crew of teenagers from the neighborhood working for him. I even filled in a few times, raking hot asphalt and cleaning tools. That stuff is like snot. It sticks to everything. We had to strip our clothes off in the garage.
Long story short we had a come to Jesus talk and, thankfully, he decided that while resurfacing parking lots was really lucrative it wasn’t a direction he should continue moving in since he was still working full time at GM and he didn't want to give up their benefits and retirement plan (even though he made more money snowplowing and cleaning parking lots than he did as a die maker at GM). Don had painful, childhood memories of having the family's utilities turned off and bill collectors coming to the door and that turned him into a workaholic. But that's a story for another day.
When I got my groceries loaded in my car I decided to pull over near the asphalters and watch for a while as I multi-tasked by making ice cream soup in the back seat. Oops. Thirty-five years had not changed the basic process but the shear size of the equipment was impressive. Don would have loved parking on Memory Lane with me today. When he was in the Army Reserves they trained him to drive heavy equipment and that was his happy place. The bigger the better.
When two of the huge, belly dumper trucks stopped to put their mud flaps back on so they could leave the parking lot I was not shocked to see one of the drivers was a woman. She was probably close to retirement age and I'll bet she started out raking asphalt and cleaning tools. When the belly dumpers left so did I, thanking my lucky stars that Don gave up resurfacing when he did or that woman would have been me. Still, the memories that came with watching the paving action had me grabbing for my thickest pair of rose-colored glasses. Remind me sometime to write about the fatherless teen boys who seemed to go everywhere we went for a couple of summers. Today I'd call them the Driveway Dwellers because that's where they seemed to live but back then we called them the Three Amigos. ©
Seems like everywhere we go, what we see, words and music we hear trigger memories the older we become. I get carried away writing about some of them, including mundane ones, on my blog sometimes but manage to resist others. Living in the same general area for so long as you apparently have you must encounter all sorts of memory triggers. This recollection of yours I find interesting as I hadn't really thought before about the equipment and people I often see regularly paving streets around here -- very pleased every time for the smooth ride on a street that has been allowed to get too rough and worn out before repaving. So many things in our everyday lives we just gloss over and take for granted will occur, until they don't.
ReplyDeleteMemory triggers were really painful when I was first widowed which I think is true is for most people and why so some widows and widowers push too hard to move or remarry before they've processed all of their grief. But now memory triggers are like old friends in a way, reminding me that I once was a capable, active and loved person. I don't want to live in the past but i enjoy visiting from time to time.
DeleteThe pandemic has taught us to appreciate those who work to keep the everyday things we take for granted working...
Gosh, I understand about the mystery antenna. Not lot ago, we ran across some candle-style light bulbs (meant for a candleabra) and cannot figure out why we bought them. It's okay. We have been living and buying stuff for many, many years. They'll get donated along with all the rest of the detritus of our lives. We live in the midwest and our roads are always needing repaired. This summer, one of the roads we use most is being resurfaced. I was happy to see a few women out there. Watching those big equipment operators is like seeing poetry in motion. I hate the delays, but love watching them! You and Don had an interesting life. Yes, please tell us about the Three Amigos. I always look forward to your posts, Jean. Hope you're having a great week!
ReplyDeleteI think I finally figured out that the antenna must have been in the car since it was in the factory. Someone on the assembly line grabbed two and used the one. I finally remembered finding it in the tire boot a long time ago then moved it to the pocket in the cargo area.
DeleteYes! Please do write about the 3 Amigos, Jean! I love these posts of yours.
ReplyDeleteDeb
Don would have been a good father even though he didn't think so. I've wanted to write about the three Amigos for a long time but it's going to have to wait until after the move. These boys had a basket full of problems and drama followed them around including one of them who tried to break us up because he wanted Don to marry his mom. It got so bad his mom had to step in and tell him it was never going to happen and to knock it off.
DeleteDitto what Deb said.
DeleteLike how you solved the antenna mystery. Makes perfect sense. When one of those mysteries pops up, I can't rest till I solve it. Well done.
ReplyDeleteYour three amigos would make a great post. I use to have the choice of teens to help me, now they all have kids of their own. The actual teens are nose deep in electronics and have no desire for extra cash. Sigh.
I'm not around teenagers now so they are mystery creatures to me now, but back in the day we needed a crash course in social services to deal with these boys. but I like to think we had a positive impact on their lives. I know Don did. I was just someone who came with the father figure they all wanted and needed at the time.
DeleteI hate mysteries like the antenna, got to figure them out. I need to put a note on the darn thing so next time I find it I won't wonder all over again. Can't throw it out because that would cause the car wash to break off the antenna on top of the the car.
I feel like they resurface the lot of my grocery store every other year, and it's definitely necessary. That parking lot is like a war zone of potholes. How the heck can it be so bad?
ReplyDeleteSorry you lost your ice cream in the reverie of memory. That's a tough break.
Weather has a huge impact on creating pot holes. Lots of freezing and defrosting and back and forth is hard on asphalt. On highways it's that plus lots of heavy trucks going over them when that's happening. This actually slowed down the building of my future home. First the pandemic got them off schedule which caused them to miss the dates in the spring when it was legal for them to bring in the heavy equipment they needed. Had to get a special permit from the state for the cranes.
DeleteWhen my mother was in the nursing home, she used to tell people all kinds of stuff that wasn't true because who knew enough about her to question it? I think she did it for the attention. I was the party pooper who sometimes had to set things straight. Other times, I'd just let it slide. At your new digs, you can re-invent your whole life and no one would be the wiser. :)
ReplyDeleteIt would be one thing if I (or your mom) PLANNED to spin a falsehood but it's scary when something comes out of your mouth and you have no idea why or where the falsehood is coming from. When I write and reread something I can find any mistaken dates or numbers or shifts in memories and correct them but that's not easy to do when you're in the middle of a conversation.
DeleteI hear a lot of people say that an elderly relative is doing or saying something for attention. But I'm not so sure it's not just part of the deterioration of the brain. Little kids exaggerate stuff without a preconceived plan to do it because their brains aren't developed enough to know the difference between actually doing something and imagination. I'm not so sure the same thing isn't happening in aging brains; we're losing that line or ability to tell he difference between facts and imagination. Sure, little kids do act out to get attention as do some seniors but I find it sad/distressing/harmful that many people think it's done out of malice or forethought.
Perhaps. But with my mother, she always had a tendency to fabricate stories that put her in the best light. But I do know she had some dementia happening toward the end when she was in her 90's. At one point we had to switch out her bed to a lower one (she was in the room when it was done) and she went around telling her friends that someone stole her bed. The manager of the retirement center (pre-nursing home) had to take her aside and ask her not to tell everyone that because it was getting the other ladies upset.
DeleteLots of funny stories like yours come out of nursing home situations. My sister-in-law had to have her phone taken away because if she didn't get a response on her call button fast enough to suit her, she'd dial 911 for things like she lost her glasses or her remote fell on the floor. One time she called for a pizza delivery because, she said, they didn't feed her.
DeleteThis same beleaguered manager had to have a guy come out from the local bank to talk with these same ladies. It seems the rumor was going around that the Mexican Mafia had taken control of it and they were all freaking out.
DeleteLOL Gotta have a sense of humor working in a nursing home.
DeleteYes, it's paving and resurfacing season. I like driving on new asphalt, but I sure don't like walking on it for a while when they finish. You have had some interesting adventures. Raking hot asphalt sounds crazy hot and difficult. And your Three Amigos trying to get Don to marry their mom made me laugh. My kids had ideas of who I should date when I was single, too. Never anyone that I wanted to date, though. LOL.
ReplyDeleteI'd like to say that raking hot asphalt was the worst job that came with my husband but it wasn't. LOL Hot doesn't begin to describe the heat that radiates off that stuff.
DeleteThe boy who tried to break us up had a welfare mom---very loving and good mom but from the deep south, with zero education and five boys to raise on her own. She was street savvy enough to know that Don was out of league. Kids sure make life interesting sometimes.
This was fascinating and goes to show how varied and interesting each person's life can be. You and Don are both people of many talents. Waiting for more stories surrounding the Three Amigos!
ReplyDeleteIt's mind boggling, isn't it, when we look back on any one person's life and see what all they've done over the years. I sometimes envy the people who knew early on in their lives that they wanted to be this or that and they followed that dream with the exclusion of all others.
DeleteI always give a wave of thanks when I see the crews repaving roads or working on highways. What a hot, exhausting job and it is so important to us! Living in the suburbs of Chicago, there is ALWAYS construction somewhere on the road!
ReplyDeleteYou and Don sure had an interesting life!
Good for you! I wave and smile too. You would not believe how condescending some people can be to others who do manual labor like that. Don was a good looking guy in his prime and when he'd go to the gas station with his asphalt truck or street sweeper the way some women would look at him was almost funny--like he was gum on their shoe. But when he'd get gas for his Vette women would flirt, even when I was with him.
DeleteI wouldn't mind going into witness protection if I had a cute agent to guard my body. lol
ReplyDeleteI've found things in my hall closet that I never remembered putting in there and I clean it out yearly. It happens.
The sub-genre of witness protection romances used to be a favorite of mine when I was share-caring my father. The idea of being watched over and cared for in---usually in a beach cottage or on an Amish farm appealed to me---the ultimate run-away.
DeleteThe older we get the more memories we have and the more certain things pop in out of nowhere. Michigan's two seasons -- winter and Under Construction. Ah, I know it well. I've been surprised there has been little construction on 127 N this summer, which is fine for me. Maybe they did it all in those traffic jams of last year and the year before!
ReplyDeleteI think you should consider the commercial. If it's a commercial for them, they'll be able to cut anything overly embarrassing you say or just not use it but it would still be good for a lark. And being overweight never stopped me from being on camera for decades (each one with a slightly different/lower/disappearing chin than the year before!) You can do this and I think and ad-libbed you would be great!
You made me laugh with the two seasons of Michigan.
DeleteYou make a great point out making a commercial might be a fun lark and if I did say anything weird they wouldn't use it anyway. I'm supposed to be open up to new experiences in my next chapter.
Before there was asphalt, there was oil. Reading your post, I smelled road oil for the first time in decades: at least, I smelled it in my mind. In summer in rural Iowa, in the 1950s, they would spread oil on the gravel roads to keep the dust down. Needless to say, mothers weren't too pleased, since none of us ever thought not to run on freshly oiled roads!
ReplyDeleteThey used it up here too in rural areas. We used it on the private road that ran along behind the cottages on our side of the lake. Hadn't thought of that in years.
DeleteI sympathize with not knowing what will come out of my mouth. That's why I love blogging...I get to check before sending my words out. 😊
ReplyDeleteI much rather communicate important stuff in writing than on the phone or in person. LOL
DeleteMemories that are so sweetly Nostalgic are a great Read too Jean! I am also now to the age where sometimes I say things that I don't even seem to realize I've said, until Princess T or The Man relates what I just said and it's not at all what I've meant to say at all! Brain Scrambles are kinda worrisome, lest they become more pronounced and Weirder, I mean, I'm already Weird enough! *LOL*
ReplyDeleteSo far my 'brain scrambles' mostly involve numbers. I live alone so I suppose if I didn't and I had more opportunity to talk I'd notice it with other things.
DeleteSo interesting although I don't think I could take the heat and smell of asphalt work. Your husband with a jack of all trades and that was the kind of man that would always find work.
ReplyDeleteHe did know how to do a lot of things and was not afraid of hard work. He wouldn't have liked working inside an office, though.
Delete