One Dandelion Wish

I am not the most perceptive person in the world. Plenty of life has passed by me without my understanding or appreciating what a specific moment offered at that exact time. Sometimes, that realization came one moment too late which is one moment past when it may have made some type of lasting difference.

As I have grown older though the voices from the past seasoned from time and experience become clearer through the fog and haze of everyday life. Those voices, many long removed from today, seem to speaker louder with each passing day.

I hear those whispers of wisdom.
Enjoy each moment.
Count time spent with loved ones as special because those moments and the ones you love and who love you really truly are just that, special.
You will miss this.

Those voices ring truer when I look at Hannah. I visualize a timeline from when I first held her to this very morning when she hugged me before she left with her mom headed to school.

Insert your favorite clichés here.
Time flies.
They grow up way too fast.
Where is the time going?

It is obvious special moments can be savored but not necessarily saved. A body can try though.

I am writing this one day after Hannah and I spent some together. Jennifer had a meeting she needed to attend which meant for a few hours Hannah and I were on our own.

With a day’s planning, Hannah determined she wanted to go to a nearby park after school then she wanted to eat pizza for supper. When I picked her up from school, I asked her if she still wanted to go to the park. She did. She even whispered to me she had not told anyone during the day about the trip to the park. I offered her the option of two different parks. She chose the one I knew she would and probably not the one I would have chosen on this day. It was a bit out of the way from home but I decided on this day that didn’t really matter.

We buckled up in the car beginning our journey. The afternoon traffic was heavy but the day was still sunny and bright. The temperature was warmer than usual for the day. As we traveled I glanced in the rear view mirror only to notice Hannah had fallen asleep. Before long we arrived at our destination with the sleepy little girl waking up as if on cue.

Once out of the car, we began making our way down a walkway to a playground area. Hannah’s right hand latched onto my left hand. A few steps into this walk, I felt her hand pull away from mine. I walked ahead a few more steps before stopping to look back. Hannah had stopped to pick a dandelion from the ground. She declared she was going to make a wish then began blowing the seeds away into the wind. When she finished she placed her hand back in mine so we could continue to walk to our destination. Then she announced she was going to tell me about her wish. Before she did though she decided against that because she wanted what she wished to come true, and, as she informed me if you tell a wish it won’t come true.

We reached the playground discovering we had the whole place to us. We hit the swings, the monkey bars and the slides. We even played a game of hide-and-seek. Frankly, the sunlight and it’s heat wore me down quickly. I tried to not let it get to me as I could tell Hannah was enjoying herself. After about forty-five minutes though we both were ready to escape the heat and find supper. We piled into the car, turned up the air conditioner then made our way to one of our favorite pizza joints.

We placed our orders, including a take-out box for Jennifer, visiting with one another until our food arrived. Hannah became interested watching a family at a near-by table eat together. A couple had a child perhaps two or three years old. The child ate spaghetti and pizza. The mom loudly commented on every little move the child made while the father quietly sat by. Across the table, a set of grandparents sat soaking in every moment. I glanced over a time or two trying to not be too conspicuous only to note the large amount of food on the floor that the child had dropped. I chuckled to myself remembering times when we, with a much younger Hannah, would leave a restaurant in similar shape. Hannah watched this group so intently I had to tell her three or four times to not stare at them. She would deny staring at them long enough for the words to escape her mouth before her eyes would turn from me back to that table of five.

Food would come to our rescue. My salad arrived first. As I began to mix it together, Hannah’s small hand reached into the bowl to pull out some shredded cheese. Then, for the next few minutes, she kept up with me almost bite-for-bite with something we could not get her to eat at home on any other given night. In time, our pizza slices arrived. Hannah sprinkled parmesan on her slices before digging in to her supper. I followed suit.

Before long, we were stuffed. I asked for a take-out box and the check. Our server brought us both, along with Jennifer’s box. We gathered it all together, paid the bill then right behind the family of five left the restaurant to head home.

On the drive, Hannah talked. She asked questions. She provided her opinion on matters. She told me about activities at her school.

Then, she asked if I wanted to know what she had wished for when we first arrived at the park. I told her I did want to know but only if she really wanted to tell me. She said she did. Then she told me she had wished for the best day ever.

I paused for a couple of seconds before I asked her, “Well, did that wish come true?”

Her reply was music to my ears and a symphony of indescribable magnitude to my heart, “Yes.”

Now a day later, I swish all that around in my heart and savor it hoping it lasts and lasts and lasts.

What you read here is my feeble attempt to save it in some way for some time when me, Hannah or her Mom might need it, for some day when times are hard, harsh or hurtful or for the times when best-day-ever moments are much harder to perceive. No, remembering it won’t quite be the same. Still, maybe sometime, someday, it will mean something when a pick-me-up is needed.

Hopefully, this best day ever will even be replaced by other best days ever. For that I can only wish and wait and hope to recognize it when it happens. Until then I have stored this one away knowing I can pull it out when I'll need it.

So, here's hoping for more dandelions along life's walk, for more pure sincere hearts of precious children and for more wise voices who speak at just the right time to identify and hold close to the moments we all wish for, and sometimes receive.

And In The Background "Girls Just Want To Have Fun" Was Playing

Much of our lives these days is spent in a car traveling to and from various places. Sometimes it is the three of us but most often it is me and Hannah.

I kind of like my way of traveling. I have it down to a science, perhaps imperfect but one that fits my needs. Sunglasses, check. Seat just so, check. Steering wheel, check. In the summer, air conditioner blasting, check. In the winter, the heat barely on but blowing on my feet, check. Music turned to just the hearing level that it crowds out my ability to realize I may be talking to myself, check.

With Hannah, some of my travel routine has changed. Sometimes, the air conditioner doesn’t blow as cool or as fast as I would prefer. Sometimes, the heat makes the car resemble a moving desert. And the music, yes, the music, well, there is that. Should you get in my car we may be listening to a local radio station. I tend to listen to them in spite of the often inane announcing for the traffic reports, and, of course, for just the right tune. With Hannah aboard though the music from the radio is sometimes replaced by a CD of some of her favorite music. It would not be uncommon to get in my car in the middle of July and the song that would fill the interior of the automobile would be “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing”. As she has grown older though, any music filters to the background so we can talk, or more directly, so she can talk.

One recent evening, Hannah and I were on our way home. As the daylight dwindled, I put my sunglasses aside for the ride, positioned myself just so in the driver’s seat, grasped the steering wheel with both hands, kicked on the A/C and left the radio playing quietly in the background. This trip would take about twenty minutes from one location to our house. True to form, Hannah talked most of the way.

As we neared our house though she grew quiet for a moment. It was quiet enough that I recognized the song playing on the radio as Cyndi Lauper’s 1984 hit “Girls Just Want To Have Fun”. Suddenly from the back seat, Hannah blurted out that she knew this song. I turned the music up a bit so we could hear it better.

Hannah then began explaining how we heard this song about a month earlier when we visited a local amusement park. I then remembered hearing the song that day through the heat and humidity while we were there as the loudspeaker system there blasted hit after hit from the 1980s.

Hannah brought to light more details about that song and that day to my attention. She remembered hearing the song as she and I were riding the park’s log flume, the ride that slowly pulls you up an incline until the top is reached and then releases you down a hill into a pool of water. The ride can be exhilarating, and, on a really hot day, refreshing, as each rider stands a pretty good chance of getting soaked.

I recalled that ride that day. Hannah had expressed interest in that specific ride but other rides seemed more interesting to her. Late in the day though, Hannah wanted to try the log flume. Jennifer declined to ride this one ride. I can’t blame her since no one really knows what lives in that water. To her credit, she does ride many of the rides with Hannah that toss and turn a body around. I knew this one ride was one I would enjoy although as we started the ride I began to have my doubts.

Darkness was gathering by the time we got on this ride. As it started, we were funneled into a tunnel that turned everything pitch black. When this happened, Hannah began to panic. She grew afraid of being in the dark. I held her hand. I tried to allay her fears. I told her the darkness was only temporary. The weird creaking noises she somehow heard above the loudspeaker would be gone soon. We kept moving although the pace at which we proceeded seemed to be an eternity. Frankly, I felt a bit closed in myself as I inhaled and exhaled the

stale summer air. Then, just ahead of us, we saw light. We emerged from the tunnel into the outside starting our real ascent up the hill. As we reached the very top we could see Jennifer waiting for us up ahead to our left. We could only look for a split second though as once we topped the peak we dropped down the hill into the water as the two of us let out screams of excitement mixed with a giant splash of water into our faces.

Later, I reflected on our conversation and her memory of that day at the amusement park. It’s easy to see how the parent-child relationship is a reflection of that log flume ride. A child wants to be adventurous. Parents want to foster curiosity. A child can grow scared. Parents provide encouragement. Then, it happens, and ready or not the parents and the child find themselves being pulled up the hill, then topping the hill, then dropping off that hill, screaming and landing and getting immersed in what it all brings together.

And, now, I know during that log flume ride, “Girls Just Want To Have Fun” was the soundtrack. Somehow, as the dad of a little girl I think that may become the soundtrack to the rest of my life. 

Oh, daddy, dear.

Cyndi Lauper: Girls Just Want To Have Fun

30513 Memories: Friday Nights

The distance from end to end hasn’t changed. It's still about a mile and a half from one to the other. Someone or some official governmental body from the city, county or state put up red lights now that slow things some. Businesses have come and gone over time with maybe a few remaining to this day. Despite any changes, that short stretch of road has seen a lot of traffic over time and back in my day was the place to be on a Friday night.

We always called the southern end the Plaza because that was the name of the shopping center there, anchored then by Johnny’s Food City. Across the street was The Trailer, a pretty good place to eat a chicken basket. It sat beside Wilson's Used Cars and the Plaza Barber Shop where fish and deer hung on the wall and hunting and fishing magazines were your reading option while you waited your turn between the tall tales exchanged between scissor snips. You could hop on the street then drive northeast passing by a residential area and the old city hall and the telephone company and then further down past Sue's Burgers, best in town always, eventually ending at Sky City, the closest thing we had to Wal-Mart in those parts in those days.

Driving that endless loop, largely one long straightaway, was what we did when the school week ended kicking off each weekend. We drove from one end of town to the other on the road the state called Highway 76. I guess officially at some point it is known as 1st Street. Some of us called it Top Street since it sat at the top of the hill where the older main part of town rested below. Others called that certain strip of asphalt the Main Drag. When we got to the other end, then we drove back. We might stop to talk with other friends we saw out that night. We might even stop to talk to a carload of girls we knew. Sometimes a car full of folks from Gilmer County or Union County had wandered into our county no doubt we felt from hearing about the crazy Friday night cruise scene but more than likely trying to spy out a potential love interest or maybe just to stir up trouble with someone.

We might stop in at the Get n Go to pick up a Coke then play a video game or to add two dollars of gas to the car. Some went to the Swan Drive-In where the movie started at dark. Others found the bowling alley their speed. The fall of the year saw the high school football team playing under the lights down the hill from the Plaza and then to the left down the street near the Levi's plant and the offices of the Georgia State Patrol in a valley just down the hill on the south side from the buildings that made up the high school many of us attended.

Admittedly, looking back, there wasn’t that much to it all. You hoped you had a full tank of gas at the start of the evening, and depending on when you had to be back home and how many stops you made in the evening, you hoped you had enough to make it back home and then through the rest of the weekend when it was all over. The mountain towns where we grew up offered little but empty streets when darkness gathered on Friday nights especially if you had some wheels and time on your hands so this ritual became part of our generation.

When you’re in those later teen years, those few hours of freedom with the friends you just know will be around forever, are plenty enough to make memories that last a lifetime. There was nothing to compare with driving into town with your car or truck, still wet from a quick rinse with the water hose from your backyard topped off with a 96Rock tag on the front of your vehicle and wheels slicked shiny with Armor-All. A slow drive from one end of town to the other with an eight track of Bob Seger and the Silver Bullet Band or Lynyrd Skynyrd blasting out the rolled-down windows just waiting to see what the night would bring was the ideal way to end a week and start the weekend. If the tunes weren't available then a lot of vehicles probably had glass-pack mufflers so everyone else in town would know someone wanted to be noticed this particular evening.

Depending on how slowly you drove the ride would only take five or so minutes. If you ended up at the Sky City end, you could decide to travel in between the parking rows which could take longer than the drive back to the plaza as the vehicles congregated making the traffic there almost always bumper-to-bumper. For some the parking lot here, in the shadow of Pizza Hut, was the place to hang out making it the pinnacle of teenage Southern Friday night freedom, at least until everybody had to go home.

If you felt adventurous, driving out Aska Road to hang out with friends whose parents were out for the night might be in store every once in awhile. Maybe a short drive to the dock down at the lake's edge or across the lake to Morganton Point could be in the plans.

Those were the days.

I could lament how kids these days don’t do this anymore. I won’t. That they don't do what we did might not be such a bad thing in this regard. There were a few things that went on that folks our age probably shouldn’t have done even after being warned by our parents or wiser friends to not do. Still, today, the world is a bit more off it’s rocker than back then, less understanding, less forgiving, less tolerant and more judgemental than it thinks it is. You could get away with more back then but you were also more likely to be called on and held responsible for your own actions, stupid or otherwise, than you would be now. Maybe it all trades off one for the other in some weird way that I am not sure I can grasp. It's not going to happen these days anyway since so many kids don’t seem to want to drive now until they are old enough to vote. Back then, we not only couldn’t wait to drive, some of us had been driving before we ever became licensed by the state to do so.

Still, each generation creates it’s own traditions and memories. Some of these shared here are mine. I know it was a tradition my brother to some extent also experienced. I know family members and friends younger than me experienced the same type Friday nights that I did.

Would I do it again? With my friends from then and knowing what we knew then and in that certain time and place, yeah, I probably would, at least one last time. It was a time and a circumstance, unique to a random few in the grand scale of life, where it was just what we all did, a part of who we were then individually and collectively and a part of our past we recall more with a grin because we experienced it than with a twinge of sadness because it's gone never to come back. Some then called it all a waste of time. Maybe it was. Some now can come to the same conclusion, all the while clutching their phone while playing Candy Crush or changing the world through a tweet and a hashtag. I just know when I look back now to remember those good times they hardly seem like a waste of time at all.