| Cross-Country Ramble 40: My
Dad Sent: 04/11/98
Every fall when I was growing up in Michigan my father used to
say, "This year we're going to move back to Florida." My father
finally did move back to Florida when he retired. He lived here for
15 years before he died from throat cancer in 1985. I still miss
him.
As we pedal by small gardens along US 90 I remember the vegetable
garden Dad was so proud of, especially because he could grow both a
winter and a summer garden. One year when we came down to visit at
Christmas he sent us home with a whole bushel of sweet potatoes that
he had wrapped in newspaper and kept stored in boxes under his bed.
As we pedal past pecan trees I remember that every Christmas my
dad sent us a Pringles can of perfectly halved pecans from the pecan
tree he grew in his front yard. The Christmas we didn't get those I
knew he was really sick.
Ken and I pull into one of those Indian River fruit stands
popular all over Florida. I remember when Ken and I, our son and
daughter, both adolescents at the time, and our dog, all came to
Florida in the yellow Renault LeCar for a Christmas visit (our
bigger car was a gas hog and we were trying to save a little money).
Each of us was allowed to bring one grocery bag full for our
luggage. Four bags would fit in the car's "trunk." As we were
preparing to go back home, Dad came back from a friend's house. In
the heat and sun he had picked us about a bushel of Grapefruit. I
think he just about had a heat stroke doing this. I didn't know
where we were going to put all those Grapefruit. Dad just starting
putting them in the car, tucking them on the back ledge of the seat,
squashing our bags together and sticking them in between. All the
way back home, every time we made a turn, the Grapefruit would roll
back and forth across the ledge and around in the car. The
grapefruit were the sweetest I have ever eaten.
This time my dad's not here to give us fruits or vegetables.
Rain was threatening when Ken and I started out biking last
Tuesday. About 10 miles from our destination it began to sprinkle.
Suddenly, it was pouring. I remember once when I was visiting Dad, I
got caught running in the rain. I started out on a cloudy afternoon.
Dad warned me it might rain. I shook off the warning glibly. If it
rained I would just be cooled off. Not long after I started the
clouds began to get closer and darker. Pretty soon I could hear
thunder rumble off in the distance. Then I noticed a few lightning
flashes. It began to drizzle. I was about five miles from my dad's.
I turned around and started back. The thunder and lightning got
closer. It was raining harder. There was no place to stop and call
my dad. I kept running. I was getting worried. I could either remain
in the roadway, the tallest object in the area, or get under a tree.
Neither alternative looked good. I kept running. Pretty soon I saw
my dad's rusty old International Harvester truck coming toward me
with lights on and windshield wipers going. What a welcome sight!
My dad won't be here to pick me up this time.
We met a man in Pensacola who had a voice much like my dads, a
southern drawl but yet with an edge to it. When talking with my dad
I could never tell at the beginning of a conversation whether it was
going to be a cheerful talk or one of those dark ones. I remember
having a heated argument about civil rights one time standing under
the live oak at his house. At some point I realized I was not going
to change my mind and my Dad wasn't going to change mine. I decided
there was no point in arguing. After that, when he raised
controversial issues, I listened.
My Dad was always so happy when we came to visit. He would run
out of the house waving and shouting hello. He hugged and kissed us
and exclaimed how glad he was to see us. He won't be here to greet
us when we arrive in St. Augustine but I'll be thinking about him.
Carol
Itinerary (days from Ventura, CA, in ( )'s)
- Day 37 (96) Lake City, FL
- Day 38 (97) Starke, FL
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