Dan Remembers to Say Thank you

When I advised students at the University of New England who couldn’t wait to be done with college, I would crack, “Being an adult isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”  My point was to enjoy college life for all its worth.  The work-a-day world will always be there.

That said, I can’t say my College of Wooster (Ohio) college years were my best.  I thank my lucky stars that I did meet my wife-to-be Hannah there.   I was a suburban kid, growing up in Fair Lawn, NJ, just outside of Manhattan, NY.   For K-12, I went to Fair Lawn schools and grew up with the same kids.  Why, on my little cul-de-sac street of 16 houses, I must have had ten kids in my grade alone to play with.  We were the future boomers.   I didn’t realize until I went off to college there was a down-side to this existence. 

When I got to college, it was readily apparent that I didn’t know how to make friends.  I didn’t know how to initiate, to take the first step.  I had some dorm friends; I played on the tennis team.  But for the most part of college in the cold, dark, and often rainy part of northeast Ohio, I felt at loose ends when I wasn’t with Hannah.

What was a bright spot in a up and down college career in Ohio were my Uncle Bill and Aunt Carolyn who lived in Toledo, some 125 miles from Wooster.  In the late 1960s, no one had cars so I would hitchhike to their place in northwestern Ohio for the weekend, often with my brother.  We made a sign for our hitchhiking that said, “It’s Mom’s birthday.”  Who could resist such a sign?  Fact is, it was a winner every time.  Truth be told it was never her birthday, but it did get people to stop.  To be technically correct, we had written May 2 in small print.   When we fessed up, the ones who picked us up always said, “I knew that.  I just picked you up anyway.”

Three hours of hitchhiking later we were in Toledo.  At the time, I never thought much about the dangers of hitchhiking.  I was with my younger, but bigger brother Richard.  It wasn’t until I was hitchhiking the West that its perils became apparent to me.  Once hitchhiking south in southern Idaho I was picked up one early Sunday morning by two cowboys who had been drinking all night.  Once I realized this fact, I tried to talk myself out of their vehicle as soon as possible.  They’d have nothing of it.  They couldn’t do enough for me.  No, no.  We’ll take you all the way to Utah!  Another time, when the guys who picked me up learned I had no money they kicked me out of the car in the desert north of Tucson, Arizona.  And then for good measure came back and egged me. 

Bill and Carolyn’s home was a haven.  There were always snacks and pizza for dinners.  This was before the time of designer college cafeterias that put Panera’s or Starbucks to shame.  My college food was institutional and sorry.  Bill has the gift of gab and Carolyn is the steady strength of the family.  After dinner, we’d play cards.  Oh Hell was a favorite game.  It’s similar to Mormon Bridge and one I’ll teach you when we next get together.  We played Michigan rummy.  We laughed and before we knew it was after midnight.  Eating, watching the games on TV, and playing cards happened all weekend.  It was a getaway when getting away from campus was what my lonely soul needed.

As I look back at it, I don’t remember thanking them in writing or with a call after all their kindnesses.  I knew enough to thank them as we left their house, but I have no recollection of following up with a written note.  Ah, the follies and lapses of youth.  Please forgive the youth in your life who are still learning their social graces.  Teach them for it’s not always so obvious.  They are works-in-progress.

So when my brother Richard proposed taking our Mom, now 90, to see her brother (Bill) and his wife (Carolyn) in Lancaster, PA, I jumped at the chance.  I’d seen my uncle and aunt (pronounced ahnt here in New England) at family gatherings, but it could be years between visits.  Now retired, it is easy for me to clear up my schedule. 

Though a three hour drive to Lancaster from northern Jersey where our Mom lives, we filled the 150 miles with reminiscing about Bill and Carolyn, checking in with each other on how we were doing with our Dad’s death the previous May, learning that each of us has a child who is expecting this summer (our Molly is due in July!), and talking health issues (colonoscopy talk is just endemic to our generation!). 

Carolyn and Bill looked terrific, maybe moving just a little bit slower.  They passed around the jelly beans and pretzels and welcomed us back into their lives.  We settled into a nice groove of old friends.  We lunched at the all-you-can-eat buffet at Willow Tree Restaurant and just fell into a comfortable catch-up after all these years.  I talked to Bill about his writing process, he being an Episcopal minister, who was preparing a homily for a Monday funeral.  Sports is always front and center with Bill and me.

Hugging them good-bye, our Mom, Richard, and I just beamed the whole way home.  This visit will be a memory for a lifetime.  Mom was thrilled to see her little brother as were my brother and I to be in the presence of three elders who have supported us in becoming who we are.

Oh, and I did write them a note, but today’s posting is my more elaborate thank you to Carolyn and Bill for all the ones I missed writing in the past.