Chauffeuring my two daughters and their friends around was
always an eye-opening experience. Somehow it was forgotten that I was in the
car and I was privy to many insider conversations. I could overhear the latest
gossip, like who likes who or the latest injustice, like the stupid assignment
demanded by an unfavorable teacher. Sometimes, I’d be included in the
discussion for some topics seem easier to discuss without direct eye-contact. The bubble of the car was conversation heaven.
I had a similar car ride experience last May, yet those involved were
not teenagers but octogenarians. I was driving my 80 year old mother and her
friends to a birthday dinner at a restaurant in downtown Washington, D.C.. All
those in the car, including my mom, had grown up in D.C.. As we passed landmarks,
they shared their memories while I drove.
“How did we survive without AC?” my mother asked as we drove
in my air-conditioned Subaru on a Saturday afternoon in May when the
temperature on the dashboard read 92 degrees.
“My brother and I would go to Rock Creek Park and sleep
there overnight on hot days,” one women remarked. “You probably can’t do that
today.”
“You just camped out?” I asked, thinking how that doesn’t
sound like a safe thing to do.
“It was a different time and the park, with all those trees,
was so much cooler on a hot night,” she answered.
“That house reminds me of Dr. Brennan’s row house on my
block,” another said as she pointed to a row house with a corner tower on its
right side. “His house was the first with an indoor bathroom.”
“Your house didn’t have indoor plumbing?” I asked.
“Not until I started school,” she replied. “I remember we
were all a little skeptical about using an inside bathroom. We were used to the
outhouse.”
“That’s where I got the bus to ride back home after school,”
a third friend said pointing to a street corner. “I remember how my mom gave me
a dime each morning to ride the bus home. But I wanted to buy candy from the
candy store that was on that corner. So I would. Then I’d stand at the bus stop
and cry. When asked why, I said I’d lost my dime and can’t ride the bus.
Someone would always feel sorry for me and give me a dime.” Laughter filled the
car after hearing that third story.
I kept driving through the city with these friends who grew
up in a different time. I wondered what stories I might tell 30 years from now.
What memories might I share while being chauffeured?
I just love your post. Somehow I feel like I have turned into my mother regaling my younger colleagues and daughter about days before AC, seat belts, color TV, one-car families, rotary dialing phones, etc. It took me back to my home and my grandmother's home. And yes, I wish I could have just one more ride down the river with my Dad in the convertible. Cherish it.
ReplyDeleteThis post was so well done. I know the same feeling when people reminisce and remember life without things that we take for granted. Great slice!
ReplyDelete- Andrew (Colorado, USA)
Love the contrast of the different generations!
ReplyDeleteLove the story of sleeping in Rock Creek Park on hot summer nights...a different time indeed!
ReplyDeleteI tried to explain to my students yesterday the experience of going to a shoe store, these Wal-Mart and K-Mart shoppers could not understand being served.
ReplyDelete