I took this picture on Tuesday while driving back from northern Indiana. I was on a county road somewhere betwixt Lake County and home. It was a beautiful afternoon and I was listening to some great folk music. In fact I was attempting to sing along with many of the songs. Luckily my voice gave out.
Tuesday was a memorable day for me. Normally, as a retired gent, I don’t have much on my schedule beyond things like “Do your laundry” or “Cook dinner for you wonderful wife.” However on Tuesday I drove up to spend time with my mother and my sister. Those trips are always memorable. If you haven’t followed my mother’s deterioration, you can read about one of my other visits in a post titled Signals from a dark place (click on the title, it is a link).
Mom was actually doing quite well this trip. She only mentioned a couple of her recent conspiracy theories, for which I was grateful. One of her imaginary people has been coming to the house frequently. He is one of a set of triplets. She said he had three brothers, which made me question if he wasn’t really part of a set of quintuplets, but my sister, She Who Must Not Be Named, and my brother-in-law quickly jumped in and told me not to start something. I saw the wisdom of their concern and didn’t restate my question loud enough for Mom to hear me.
Like many of her imaginary people, her imaginary visitor had a wonderful singing voice. She has no trouble hearing them, but is often deaf as a stone when trying to talk to us. Sadly she doesn’t see that inconsistency. The other thing that amazes me about their singing is that to my recollection, Mom never showed any interest in music. I don’t get it.
After spending some time with my mother and sister, I went on to a happier reunion. I was able to have lunch with one of my favorite people, Kathryn.
When I stopped working for the State, I took a part-time job as a clerk in a retail store in Lafayette. I was older than everybody else who worked there. One of the other people there was Kathryn, who was a young student at Purdue University. While all of the people who worked there were friendly, Kathryn was special. She went out of her way to befriend an old, full-bearded geezer who had to be taught new skills. Hmm. Maybe she thought I was Santa Claus in disguise.
She, of course, has graduated and has moved back to northern Indiana where she is happily working. The sweet thing for me is that we haven’t lost touch. I don’t get to see her smiling face four or five times a week anymore, and I have cut back on my letter writing, but we do text and follow each other on Instagram. And every once in a while (not often enough) I get to see her when I head north.
I guess that I need to go north more often to see people who are important to me.