Memories

Driving across the plains in a pickup truck. My husband is driving, and Roger Miller is singing Bobby McGee on Willie's Roadhouse. We are on the way to my family reunion in the town where I was born, raised, married, raised three children, divorced, and set free. It is always emotional when I go back. The school is new,  most of the storefronts are different or vacant, the hospital is now a nursing home, and the Pontiac anchor dealership is an empty concrete slab. Driving into town memories flood my mind. Even though I try to avoid the emotions, they still hit me in the back of my knees. We first greet the cemetery where my mom and dad are both buried along with grandparents, aunts, uncles, high school friends, and my first boyfriend. It is surreal to realize how life is a mere blink.

Next we see the fairgrounds. August always found it alive with horses, 4-H rabbits, pigs, cows, chickens, sewing, cake decorating, and brightly colored canned vegetables. I remember holding my breath as a high school friend was thrown into the  air during the rodeo bull riding. This is where my daughter caught a rooster with five dollars wrapped around its leg in the Chicken Catching Contest that attacked me for months whenever I left the house. It is where I fell out the back of a trailer as I was ready to model  my Grand Champion formal gown. The grandstand was full of people gasping and laughing. It is where, as a Campfire Girl, I helped people find their assigned rodeo seats.

The reunion is at the park across from the used-to-be hospital where I worked as a JUG (Just us Girls) when in high school. It is where I found myself in more than my share of trouble as my friends and I would ride the food elevator and raid the kitchen. It is where I thought I killed my friend's dad, who was a patient on the west side of the front hallway, because he died shortly after I gave him his evening back rub.

The park is full of people I don't know and I feel pressure to "turn on" so I can visit, laugh, and reminisce. Welcome to my family reunion.

Until the next time: Live while you live!

Call 911, without hesitation, if you are in danger of hurting yourself or someone else.