Bicentennial Summer

Once, a couple of years ago, Dad somehow convinced Mom to go on a  mini weekend getaway with him all the way to  Niagara Falls and back. He’d earned a spot at the  Million Dollar Round Table convention, New York Life’s big-deal sales-recognition event, and apparently decided the motorcycle was the perfect way to travel. I was stunned when Mom agreed to climb on the back of that little CB360 for such a long journey. Not to mention, Dad wasn’t exactly a seasoned rider, and traveling with a passenger would be new territory for him.

Even now, riding in Blue Pierre beside Dad and remembering all this, I couldn’t help but laugh at the memory. Neither Mom nor Dad could be described as petite, and that poor little CB360 looked completely overwhelmed carrying the two of them. The shock absorbers were pushed to their absolute limit, groaning under the weight of two full-size adults.

They spent two nights at a fancy hotel while Skippy babysat us at home, and on that Sunday, when they were due to return, we heard repeated honking on the motorcycle’s tinny horn. We kids came running, nearly tripping over one another, stampeding down the front steps. Before we ran right into her, Mom swung her leg off the bike, removed her helmet with a flourish, and with her hand on her hip, declared, “Well, I hope you enjoyed that, Ralph, because that is the first and last time I am ever doing something like that!” She sighed dramatically. “We nearly died, kids!”

She didn’t even give us a chance to ask questions or interrupt.

“You know how easily Dad falls asleep?”

We all nodded, recalling how he would drift off during the sermon at church, while watching TV, and even midconversation sometimes. “Well, he nearly killed us earlier today because he fell asleep while driving!” She looked at our startled faces. “Yes, while driving!”

“Oh Ginny, don’t exaggerate,” Dad said, defending himself.

“Don’t you Oh Ginny me!” She stop-signed him with her hand. “And I am not exaggerating! You know perfectly well that everything I just said is the god-awful truth!”

She’d tried to keep talking, but Dad reached for her and started hugging and kissing her while she pulled away. He’d told her how much he loved her and that he’d never do anything to hurt her. Mom eventually acquiesced and allowed the hug and kisses to soothe her. I think I heard him whisper that he was sorry for scaring her. Mom giggled a bit. We kids turned away, a little embarrassed by their intimacy. But something was a little strange, a little fake.

Exaggerated, maybe.

It looked like a show to me. Not Mom’s part, but Dad’s. It was like he was putting on a show for us kids. Like he was acting the role of good husband. His behavior was straight out of a movie or a TV show, and it didn’t at all feel authentically him.

But Dad usually overdid things, so maybe it was real.