Asking Eleanor
an excerpt

“You have got to be crazy, mother. This is some kind of wild midlife crisis and that’s all. There is no way Dad can even be considering letting you go.”

“Letting me go? Am I some sort of prisoner or incompetent child? And how can this be a midlife crisis? I’m certainly not going to live to be 160. Don’t you know that the reason your father and I have lasted so long together is that we talk to each other and make decisions together and respect each other’s needs and desires?”

“Alright, Mother. Don’t get so upset. I’m just worried about you, that’s all. You know you haven’t exactly been yourself lately. You’ve been forgetful and irritable and ... and then this hairdo. I don’t know what was wrong with your hair the way it was. And Christine just looks awful. She seems to be going through some kind of crisis, too.”

“Where do you get off judging everyone’s mental well being anyway? As I recall I put up with quite a few of your own life crises. You weren’t the easiest teenager to get along with, and the fuss you put up at your wedding was enough to make most of the catering staff look for other employment. Do you think you’ve made only wise decisions in your life? What about when you almost left Sean last year? Don’t we all come to those places in our lives where things change?”

“OK, I get your point. I know I’m not perfect, but mother you’re 80 years old. And you and Christine are going to drive to New York and sleep in your car along the way and take the 'trip of a lifetime.' It sounds crazy. How can we not worry about you?”

“I appreciate that, but we’ll do fine. If we have any problems we’ll call ... and there are hospitals and doctors all over the world, not just right here. Why shouldn’t we give it a shot?”

“Well, if Dad is going to allow this, and Richard has decided to let Christine go, then I guess I really don’t have much to say about it all. But you’ve got to promise to be careful. Please don’t sleep in the van. Go to motels or hotels. You have to call us often.”

“Allison, do you know how many people are out there, 80 and over, driving huge recreational vehicles around, having the time of their life? I won’t be the only person out there over 50 trying to have a last great adventure in life.”
Alright, I know. Let’s not talk about it anymore. Not right now, anyway. Well, except for one thing: When are you going to be leaving? Dad said something about the end of May.”

“Yes, we thought that might be like leaving on an anniversary date, because that was when Christine and I would have graduated from college. We were going to leave as soon as possible for our trip.”

“Did grandma and grandpa know you two were planning this trip when you were in school?”

“No, not really. Well, maybe I mentioned it to Mom once or twice, but then Christine dropped out of college and we sort of drifted apart for a few years. Otherwise we would have done it. I just know we would have. And Mom and Dad would have worried about us, but I don’t think they’d have worried as much as if we'd gone to Europe. Dad was dead set against young women touring Europe unescorted.

“When I was in college Europe was being rebuilt. The world didn't seem like such a dangerous place then. I don't know why, when there had just been a war and all that craziness happened.

"The whole world in 1948 was a different sort of place. Everybody so busy, getting down to work; the men back, the women raising all those babies. What a boom town every place was. Why I can remember it like yesterday.”

“Your memory seems to be getting better. Maybe being energized about this trip is a good thing. I’ll say that for it anyway.”

“Yes, Dr. McAlfreedy said the same thing ... .”

Oops! I'd mentioned the psychiatrist's name.

“Dr. McAlfreedy? I thought you were still seeing the new doctor who took Dr. Ferguson’s place when he retired.”

“Oh, well,” I lied quickly, making up just one more, “Dr. McAlfreedy is an intern I had to see the other day when Dr. Bailey was out of the office. I just ... well, I needed a prescription refilled ... and the drugstore wouldn’t do it without a visit to the doctor.”

“Dr. McAlfreedy? I don’t remember his name. McAlfreedy? No, don’t remember it.”

“Well, now who’s having problems with their memory?” I laughed. “Just don’t ask for him yourself. He’s ... well, a little irritating, I think.”

I hoped Allison would never ask for him and find out he didn’t work in Dr. Bailey’s office, but was a psychiatrist across town. He had told me, however, that he thought the trip would be a good thing. He understood from Dr. Bailey that I was healthy, but was getting forgetful. He didn’t think the memory problems were related to disease, either. He thought it was the uneasiness I had about growing older.

Allison spotted the bag in my closet and picked it up. “You’ve been shopping! what did you get?”

“Oh, don’t look at those,” I shouted.

“Why? Whatever can it be? A lacy negligee? Or is it a surprise for me?”

“No, it’s not for you ... or for your father.”

She peeked inside. “Denim jeans?”

“They’re for Claire, but don’t tell her. I want it to be a surprise.” There was no way I could tell my daughter those low slung, tight denim pants were for me. Talk about crazy!

“For a minute I thought you might have forgotten her birthday. You’re leaving on your trip so close to it. Will you still be around for the party on the Saturday after?”

“Oh, my goodness! I ... well, I guess I didn’t know you were planning it for the Saturday after.”

“Mother, I told you I was. I’ll be working all day Friday; it’s a deadline day for the project we’re working on. Hal will be in town that day and we just thought it work better. You forgot, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I did. But don’t worry. It’s not because I’m senile. I’ve just had other things on my mind. I’m sure Claire will forgive me this once. I think she’s behind my trip. She wants me to send her a postcard from every state we visit. She’s going to keep a memory book of them for us. I think it will be a wonderful opportunity to show her what you can still accomplish even when you’re older than dirt.”

“Older than dirt?" Allison laughed. "Older than dirt. Mother, you aren’t older than dirt."

She took a closer look at me.

"You’re right. You come from a long lived clan and you probably have a lot of days in front of you. You shouldn’t have to regret anything at the end of your life. I could take a lesson from you.” She put the bag back into the closet. “I won’t tell Claire about her surprise. If you can’t make it to the party it won’t be the end of the world. I’m sorry if I’m being so unreasonable. Things at work have been stressful and Claire’s birthday party planning got off to a bad start when she didn’t even want to celebrate. And then she did. Trying to be both mother and father when Sean's out of town doesn’t work too well for me.
“I can understand wanting to finish your dreams up and now I’m all for it. Go for it.” she said giving me a big hug. “Go for it.”

I hugged her back. “Thanks for understanding, Allison. When Sean gets back into town give him my best. I always did like that boy. And I want to do this for you and Claire just as much as for myself. If I don’t set a good example for you, then who will? Not your father; he’s not an old stick-in-the-mud. He’s just happy with what he’s accomplished and willing to rest on his laurels. I guess I’ve done some things in life to savor, but until we make this trip I don’t think we’d be too happy with ourselves, Christine and I.”

“Okay. No more explaining. What can I do to help you pack?”

“Well, you can help me decide what to leave behind. As usual I’ve packed way too much.”

We set to work eliminating what we could.

Christine had a ton of maps spread over her dining room table. Richard, meanwhile, was outside on his riding lawnmower, making a hell of a noise. I walked over and shut the window that overlooked the back yard.
“Wow! I can’t think with all that noise. Didn’t he just mow yesterday? I thought I heard him out real early.”

“Actually,” said Christine, “this is the fifth time he’s mowed the lawn this week. I hate to think of the global warming he’s incurring, but it’s the way he deals with his anger. He mows the grass to within a millimeter from the ground, little by little.”

“He’s still upset about our trip?” I guessed.

“You got it. He’s mad, and I don’t think he’s going to come around. So I’m just going ahead and planning it anyway. After I leave I wouldn’t be surprised if the whole lawn has to be dug up and replaced with sod. That will give him something to do.”

“Well, I guess it’s the right time of year to do that sort of thing.”

“OK. Here are the maps. I’ve gone online and reserved some hotels ahead of time if we can’t sleep in the van. Otherwise, we can pick up ‘hot spots’ along the way and cancel them online. Thank God for the Internet.”

“Great,” I said. “You’ve done a great job.” I looked over the maps with their yellow highlighted routes. “This will be great. We can take the southern route going and the northern route coming back. We’ll see everything but the very middle and the very most northern."

“Mary, one question: Do you think we’ll want to come back?”

“Oh,” I laughed, “what a silly questions. We’ll probably be dying to come home at the end of all this. Just to sleep in our own bed again. What a heavenly thought that always is after traveling. Why?” I looked at her closely. “Christine, don’t you think you’ll be ready to come home?”

I looked outside at the mowing madman.

“Is it Richard? Is that the reason you think you might not come back? You’re kidding, aren’t you?”

“Let me get us a cup of tea. There’s something I need to tell you before we leave.”

This didn’t sound good. I followed her into the kitchen. There were more maps spread on the kitchen table.

“Do you want me to fold these up?” I asked.

“Sure,” she said. “Do you want Earl Grey or Chai?”

“Oh, Chai, please.”

I began folding up the maps, a skill at which I was never too proficient. “Should I put them in alphabetical order? It’s going to be something to have all these maps to look at. Shouldn’t we get one of those cars with the GPS system in them? One of those car gadgets that tells you exactly where you are and how far it is to the next gas station?”

“Think about it," Christine said as the water boiled and she poured it over the tea bags. “Did they have all that crap in 1948? Wasn’t the best part of the trip the unknown and what we’d find and where we’d end up without anything but a roadmap?”

“You’re right,” I said. “That is part of the fun of a journey. Let’s pretend we are in 1948 again and we don’t have a single one of those contraptions. Well, except for the computer, Internet and cell phone. We’re going to have to call in every single night, and even if we’re having trouble we’ll have to convince everyone we’re not. Think we can do that?”

“Easy-peasy,” Christine replied. “I’ve told the boys, Orville and the madman out there, that we’ll be on the phone at night, but they’re not to call us during the day unless it’s an absolute medical emergency here. I don’t want them interrupting all the talking and exploring we’re going to be doing. I want it to be as much like old times as possible.”

I had almost gotten the kitchen table cleared enough so we could sit down and enjoy the tea.

“Do you have some cookies?” I asked.

“Up in the cupboard, right of the sink,” she said.

I found a package of cookies and carried them to the table. “Let’s take plenty of snacks with us and gain at least five pounds, okay?” I said.

“You’ve got a deal,” she answered, placing a steaming cup of Chai tea in front of me. “Want creamer?”

“Have you got some of that fake stuff with the flavors?”

“Hazelnut okay?”

“Oh, yum! You know it’s my favorite.”

She plucked an orange and yellow plastic container from the refrigerator and brought it to the table. “Here you go.”

“Well, what did you want to tell me?”

“Here’s the deal,” Christine said. “Remember when I told you I was pregnant before Richard and I got married?”

“Are you kidding? Of course.”

“Well, there’s a little more to that story. I’m not so sure now ... now that I’ve thought about it, if I want to tell you. It won’t affect anything if we wait for a little while, but I want you to know that Richard doesn’t know this part of the story and I want to wait until we’re in Schnectedy before I tell you this. I’ve changed my mind.”

“How can you change your mind? One minute we’re in the dining room and you tell me you want to tell me something and now you tell me you don’t. What is it that’s such a secret? Will it change my mind about taking this trip?”

“I don’t think it will, but I don’t want to take the chance. So let’s just wait until we get to New York.”

“What does Schnectedy have to do with anything?

“Well, I guess you’ll just have to wait until we get there before you find out. It’s not anything scary or bad. Well, at least I don’t think you’ll admit it’s bad. Let’s just forget I said anything. Are you all packed?”

“Christine, I don’t know what this secret you have could be but you know it’s going to drive me crazy all the way down the road. You have to tell me as soon as you can. Do you promise?”

“Alright, I promise. I’ll tell you when we’re over the Oregon border. Now you tell me: Are you packed and ready to go?”

“Yes, I’m packed. Allison came over and tried to talk me out of this, but I prevailed. She wasn’t able to make me see the wisdom of her cautions. Jack is coming around. He wants me to be happy and thinks this could be a good thing. Just so long as I call in every night. Allison helped me wean out everything I won’t need on this trip. I had three suitcases packed and other stuff in smaller bags. There’s no way the two of us will need all that stuff.”
“I hope you’re bringing along a journal to keep track of what we do and where we go.”

“Of course. That’s going to be the most fun. I know Emily is going to want a diary of everything her grandmother does. She says she wants to take a trip across the U.S. just like us when she graduates from college. She wants to backpack and walk the whole way, though.”

“My gosh! Can you feature anything more dangerous?”

“Now, Christine. If we’re expecting others to let us go we can’t start worrying about what our grandchildren will be doing. Who even knows if we’ll be around when our grandchildren strike out on their own?”

“Well, drink your tea. Then we’re going to watch a movie if you still have time.”

“What movie?”

“’Johnnie Belinda’ with Jane Wyman. It won best picture in 1948, so it’s a movie we would have seen before we took off on our trip.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen it. Do you have popcorn?”

“You bet. Popcorn and chocolate. That should make the experience complete.”

The afternoon flew by. The Jane Wyman movie was excellent and we both ended up crying. I went home to Jack, and there was finally silence. Richard had stopped mowing the lawn. The afternoon was a quiet one and I sat down with some of my own maps I’d downloaded from the Internet. There were places I wanted to stop on our trip. Places I’d always wanted to see. I wondered what we would have seen in 1948. For one thing there would have been fewer automobiles on the road. Gas would have been much cheaper. We were going to find that our biggest expense, I feared. The laptop should give us access to the Internet and we could find maps of the cheapest gas on the way through the U.S.

I wondered what Christine was hiding; what was the secret she wouldn’t tell me until we got into New York state? What or who was in Schenectedy? What more was there to the pregnancy story? I knew it wouldn’t do any good to try and pump Christine for information. She would only get angry and she wasn’t any fun after that. Anyway, truth to tell, I was looking forward to knowing there was a secret to be unveiled on our trip. It would make the time go by more slowly and more delicious. Even if it was anticlimactic, it didn’t matter. We’d be traveling together, sharing this adventure and making one last great trip together. I would owe Jack a big debt of thanks. How could I ever repay him for this? Maybe if I voted Republican in the next election? No, not much chance of that. But I can tell him I was considering it and really try to do that.