Leading up to the visit, the suggestion from my sister was that I had to really clean out my old room. Do so as if "that's the last time you'll be in there." I confirmed my understanding of the task, while also wondering if, in a way, she was sensing the future. Maybe not all of it, maybe not everyone, but maybe just my own?
I knew on this trip that my time would not be free. I knew that plans were being made with me, for me, without my knowledge. As optimistic as I am, I also knew the likelihood of seeing anyone I'd want to see simply wouldn't happen. So, there I am, stuck at my Ma's home, being prodded to do something else. Whatever the hell I was doing, I needed to be doing something else.
We arrive: the weather was a hazy early 80s in lovely Dealville, near 100 in Salt Lake City (our layover) but cloudy and (I was told) 63 when we landed. In the afternoon. Hello Summer! A cruel joke from the weather gods. Hahaha - you thought you could find a time that it was safe to visit! We'll show you! Thankfully that weather hold was brief, but it cast a pall over the whole trip.
I was sitting at my desk: an old metal "teacher's desk" handed down by one of my grandfathers. I'm going through each drawer, each of which holds completely random items. Most items were put here by me, truly odds and sods from decades ago. What happens when I find these things? Maybe 5% are a genuine pleasant surprise, and it's coming back to Dealville. The other 95% are either reviewed, thought of, then recycled. As I'm doing so, I'm starting to find more and more things that are clearly NOT my own. "Trip might like this" someone thought, so coin sets from, say, 1974, are there. I ask aloud who those are...my Ma says they are mine...I decline, stating I've never seen it before. A stand-off, unknowingly, has begun.
As I go through the desk, my Ma is at the other end of the room. "What about this stuff in the closet?" I don't know, Ma. "How about this tie?" Ma, I've been in town 3 hours. I'm currently going through this desk. "Well..." Of course, the Big Scoop can play on her tablet, but the women formerly known as Smiley is bored. "What are we going to do tonight?" Because she's a child and we have to plan everything for you? So, after the 3rd time she brings it up, I stop and decide to shoot pool with her in the basement rumpus room. I'm not 10 minutes into playing that my Ma appears again, looking at a well-worn entertainment center. "What about these tapes?"
We had 2 days planned, or optioned, for swimming at the community pool. Both times everyone had to leave due to lightning. The last 3 times we visited my Ma, that's happened to us. Someone, somewhere, is trying to tell me something. Is it the truth? By the brief end of yet another swim attempt, I've thrown out 3 bags full of trash, and 3 other bags to be recycled. Still, more work needs to be done. One of the easiest things I did was throwing out old yearbooks. "You're so funny! We should hang out this summer - call me!" Bitch, you never returned my calls, get out of here. I saved my last yearbook from Bloomington, before the move. People in there wrote like I was terminal, and they were saying goodbye.
The absolute highlight was, ironically, a bullet dodged as well. One request was to go fishing, and while that is fun, I had no idea where to even begin. Instead, we ended up with rented poles and walked along a slimy urban creek. The mission, however, was accomplished: on her first cast, the Big Scoop reeled in a sunfish. She also caught catfish. She ended her morning/afternoon with 10 catches, endless delight, and many pictures of a happy girl. Something worked out!
We were planned to attend two "fancy" dinners while I was in town. Both were restaurants in malls. I am no stranger to that at all: frequently the hidden gems of a town are restaurants in a strip mall. They are also, usually, not this overpriced. We all remember where we are - polo shirts tucked into the guts, everyone with short haircuts, restaurants advertising something called Michelob Golden Draft Light - as much as one tries to blend in while travelling, we did notice we stuck out wherever we went. Eh, so it goes.
The cleaning continues. A folder with all newspaper clippings of David Letterman moving to CBS. A folder of 1991 contents from the fan club of Mystery Science Theater 3000. Pleasent surprises. More and more random shit to toss. I take a break and am told to have another Leine's - Ma bought a 24 pack for my visit. 24! I'm in town 4 days. I am not up to the challenge. I have one while reading through, then recycling, old Mad Magazines and Mad books. "What are you doing?" I'm asked by that very mother. What a coincidence - I'm reading Snappy Answers to Stupid Questions. "I'm using the paper face shield to keep me way from annoyances."
The last day was a perfect summary. Meetings were planned, then cancelled, then people in said meetings didn't know this, and asked if we were "OK". I had wanted to go back to the old neighborhood, and many times in the past, I could do so alone. I'd go at my own pace, where I want to loiter, etc. I'd done it before without issue, but this time that was shot down. So, we ALL drove over there, and the seams immediately began to show. Ahead of the visit, I scouted a few restaurants, and we tried one. We enjoyed it. I was vibing with the staff, which upset some, but brought hearty portions to us all. The drive around the old neighborhood, however, was a symbol:
Ma: Where should we go?
Me: Let's stay on 102nd and then make a right after the school--
(Ma turns down a different street)
Me: OK...
Artist formerly known as Smiley: Wait, this isn't where you wanted to go.
Big Scoop: Where are we?
Ma: (pointing) Was there always a stoplight there?
Me: Yes, even when I was a kid.
Ma: No. Are you sure?
What positive memories I have of this area are in this town, yet here we are being herded: I'm not going where I want to go, 2 others not caring, and the one doing the herding lost in her own lane.
We were there 4 days, and yet it still felt like 1 day too long. As it usually goes when trying to make it back home, we had to run through the airport to make our connection - this was a close as I'd ever been to not make it. But make it we did, and when we walked down the ramp and put our feet on the ground, I lifted my arms in the air, as though it was a victory. We survived. We did it and we returned. Haven't been this happy to be home in years. All because I was there for 4 days.
At dinner the following day, I tried to figure out why I felt this way. I talked it out, but I didn't expect either of those 2 to completely understand. When we were there, I'd have to look through something which would bring back a flood of memories, most of which I hadn't thought about in decades...which brought back crummy memories...which I'd try to balance out with good...but it was never enough. I'd then have to cover my strained face with something more placid as I'm asked to do something else.
I already know that whatever is positive of "back then" is completely in my mind: cherry-picked random moments from long ago. And yet, now removed a little from this visit, I'm not sure when the next visit will be - it might be another 5-6 years, I don't know. Dillon was understanding enough to know I had no freedom in this visit but asked how it went all the same. I passed along a few nutty finds, but just as much all of the strain. I then posited this idea: I wonder how a visit there would be without "all this" with it. I know I could never pull that off. At least, not anytime soon. I still wonder all the same. It might be different, but not any better. Maybe it'll just have to be those random memories, triggered by a song, a video, or now, this stack of papers. I'm not trying to run away from my past, but I pushed aside so much of it (completely necessary as an action) that returning to see if what was positive wasn't worth it.
For me, there's no future there, so can I ever be expected to place it in my own future here?
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