Chasing my past. (Part 3) - Day 2: Thank you Ben…

Sunday morning, 9:17am.

I woke up this morning to the humming sound of the ac/heater sitting below my window. I wasn’t really sure where I was at first. As my eyes adjusted to the morning light diffusing through the curtain, my memory adjusted as well. I have a big day today. Lots to do but I need a way to do it. So I called Thrifty Car Rental to see what I can do about getting this tire fixed so it doesn’t derail my journey any further. (I mean really, who doesn’t have a spare tire in a rental car???) The nice lady on the other side told me that she would look into this and get back to me in 15 minutes. So I shall wait.

Last night I posted my day one experience. I had no intention of doing so when I started this journey or when I started writing about it. It was really just for my notes to reflect on later. Then something in me said to share it. Part of healing is breaking the layers of comfort that you cocooned yourself in. So, against all of my comforts and automatics, I posted it and had instant regret. I’m not one to look for sympathy from others and I have never been one to use my past circumstances as an excuse or drive any feelings from people. Most people don’t even know my past and I liked it like that. And most of all, I didn’t want anyone to feel sorry for me. I sent Adriana a text exclaiming this and told her that I was going to delete it. She wrote back supporting my decision but said, “you never know who might read it. You never know who it might effect or help.” I thought about that for a minute then closed my laptop, silenced my phone and went to sleep. I’ll decide in the morning.

After I got off the phone with Thrifty, I hesitantly opened my laptop to see if anyone saw my post. I was shocked at what I saw. I read the amazing messages I received from my Day 1 post and I was extremely overwhelmed. First of all I was expecting, maybe, a couple but I was blown away by the support. This whole journey is a huge emotional tornado in the first place and I have ALWAYS shouldered everything on my own but to see all the impactful messages of encouragement I am receiving and even knowing that I am positively impacting anyone out there that just read my words means everything. I didn’t know what to expect and in fact wasn’t expecting anything. But it warms my heart to know people care. That you care. Thank you for taking this journey with me.

Well update to my car situation. (how about that for a transition). Elizabeth from Thrifty just called me back and informed me that they are bringing me a new car in 2.5 hours!!! Yay! I don’t need to be towed an hour away, get a new car then drive back an hour. They are bringing it to me. So that’s pretty awesome. My journey continues!!! Funny how even when you are on a path to clear one obstacle, other obstacles pop up. Anyhow… shower, coffee, breakfast.

…

Okay so after an interesting breakfast at Wendy’s, the tow truck finally came with the new car and I was on my way. I didn’t really know where I was going exactly but I was ready to go.

I jumped in the new car (not sure what it is but it has four inflated wheels so I was happy) and pulled up the dropped location in my maps again and proceeded to follow that for 6.3 miles to Hickory Hills. I passed by the spot I turned around at last night and I’m actually glad that I did so that I was able to make the trip in the daytime. I would have missed a lot. Highway 50 ran parallel to the railroad tracks that I found online a few months ago and I knew that those tracks would run through my old neighborhood and across the trestle that I remember. Those tracks were my tracks. I felt a sort of familiarity.

My heart started beating a little faster and my foot got heavier on the gas pedal. .3 miles. 500 yards. Right turn in 700 feet and then there it was. Hickory Hills. And it was absolutely, 100% plain and boring. Nothing exciting about it one bit. If I didn’t have it on my maps, I would have driven right past it. It was just a turn off the highway with no signs or anything.

As I turned in I was staring at the homes trying to conjure memories of my childhood and nothing was budging until I came across my old home. And it was exactly as I remembered it but about 30 years older, run down and not as HUGE as I thought. It was huge to my 9-year-old self but as an adult it was a plain old, 1800 sq feet (ish), single family home. The dirt driveway had two plain old cars out front, had a satellite dish off the side of the garage and some plain old Christmas decorations. But that was the home we lived in as a family. That was my home.

I pulled off to the side of the road and stared at it for a little bit with a big smile stretched across my face. Memories of us running out the front door, jumping off the front porch to seek an adventure. Memories of my ankle rolling on one of those jumps so bad that I couldn’t walk. Memories of Michael and I beating up Chris for the first time in the front yard. Memories of us ditching Chad and him chasing after us crying then us slowing down for him to catch up. Only to run off and ditch him again. Memories of us spending hours in the ditch next to the home digging for the worms we would use to catch fish down at the creek. Memories of the electricity going out and all of us getting scared, huddling in the safety of our moms arms. Memories of saying my last “good bye” and “love you” to my mom as she left that Friday evening heading back to work. Memories…

I looked across the ditch at the home where some friends used to live and a gentlemen (and I use the term very loosely) was standing out front working on his truck. I went up and started talking to him. His name was Jon and I asked him how long he lived there.

(Now picture the voice Billy Bob Thorton used for his character from Sling Blade. This was Jon’s voice. But with no upper teeth so it was even tougher to understand him.)

“2010” he told me. He bought the home in auction after “The Smiths” got evicted.

“Well the gal and guy that lived here were married with a couple kids and the husband found out that his wife was sleeping with a Ni**er.” (I GASPED) “Walked right in on her in his own home. Well he up and left her after that. And she didn’t have no job or nuthin and I guess the bills piled on. The electricity box was ripped out when we moved in. I guess the bill got up to $800 and the city shut it off. So the black guy,” (he must have saw my reaction to his other choice of nouns) “decided to connect the box with some cheap jumper cables to his car to power the house. Well that didn’t work out too well and fried the entire electrical box. It wasn’t soon after that they were evicted and we bought it. So I had to replace that box there. Those sons of bitches really wrecked this home though I tell ya.”

Jon was a character straight out of movie that must not have spoken to too many people he didn’t really know. He just shared entirely too much information and didn’t really know the tact of how to deliver it. But I was grateful he chatted with me.

Jon said that I could leave my car parked there in front of his house while I go and explore the creek and the places we used to play as kids. I had the windows down as I pulled up so that I could hear the neighborhood. Jon gave me an uneasy feeling and I wanted to lock the car up but I felt strange turning the car on to roll the windows up and locking the car. I didn’t want him to get offended. So I just left the windows down and the car unlocked. However, I did grab my backpack with my laptop in it and headed towards the creek. “Be sure not to fall in the water. You’ll freeze.”

Jon is a sweetheart. I just hoped my car would be there when I got back.

The path to the creek wasn’t really a path. It was heavily wooded with branches, fallen trees, saplings, and thorn covered bushes sitting on top a pillowcase of fallen leaves. It was quite pretty actually but challenging to walk through. I noticed me making my way slowly through the heavy brush like a pretty boy from Los Angeles not wanting to scuff my shoes until I thought to myself, “what would 9 year old Josh do?” So I just pushed through without a care of getting dirty or scratched. I made it to the bottom and was awe struck. It was, too, as I remembered but also not as grandiose as my memory. I saw where we used to fish. The place we caught a big snapping turtle and tried to cage it up with rocks. The tree we hung a 4-foot snake from after we caught it. The woods that we used to camp in and where we lived for a few weeks after our mom passed were all but gone though. There were some trees hugging the creek line but after 5 feet in, it was stripped bare. Then I looked and there was the trestle. My trestle on my tracks. It was amazing

I “9 year old Joshed” my way up the side of the hill, walked to the middle of the trestle and stood on top of it staring at the surroundings. You could see quite a bit from up there. There wasn’t really any smell in the air besides a faint winter fire but you could hear the babbling creek feathering across its bed, the birds chirping and the light breeze blowing through the trees. No cars. No construction. No people. It was beautiful.

I was able to see our neighborhood across the way and the Maschino corn fields behind me. That was where I had my first kiss ever. Sally Maschino. It was in a huge wheel of one of her dad’s tractors. I didn’t know what I was doing at the time but she was cute (and two years older) so … when in a corn field in Indiana…

After spending about 20 minutes on my tracks and trestle I decided to head back to my car to continue my journey. Luckily it was still there but Jon had seemingly left. In fact, there wasn’t anyone around at all and the town seemed as if it were abandoned. The harsh Indiana weather has faded and chipped away the paint from most of the homes over the years. Screens, if they existed, were ripped and tattered. Doors tried their best to hang on by one hinge. Some yards had cars up on make shift stilts with tarps replacing the hoods. The town I once remembered as being a big, beautiful, rich town as a kid, was actually a run down, lower class, farming/mining community. Not a bad thing at all but just…. Different.

It’s amazing how perspective changes the older you get and the more experience you gain from the world. What was once huge is actually small. What was once a mile, was actually half. What was once the most beautiful place ever is actually just another typical place. I’m happy I experienced living in Hickory Hills for a short time as a child but thankful that I moved away and had the chance to experience the world. I’d like my kids to do the same.

The rain, fittingly, started to come down so I decided to move on. I rolled the windows up and drove on down highway 50 a half mile until I came across the market that we used to walk to to buy ingredients for the sour cream and onion dip. It wasn’t as I remembered it though. The gas pumps were gone and the “pop” machines were upgraded to newer models. Well not new new, but newish.

I walked in and was greeted by the smell of bait and ….”old.” Whatever that smell might mean to you. I grabbed a Big Red pop and proceed to check out. I asked the guy behind the counter how long this store has been open and he told me, “oh, I don’t know…. 60 years or so but they tore down parts of the old one in 2004 and built this one up. Changed the name too. They were going to tear it completely down but I couldn’t let them so I bought it. Unfortunately.”

This was Ben. Nice, older gentlemen dressed in flannel with crooked lower teeth. (Side note - It seems everyone I spoke with had messed up teeth and wore flannel.) I told him a little bit about my journey and how I lived here 28 years ago and bought my first Big Red from this very store. He asked me why I moved away and I told him that my mom got into a car accident and died. After which, my brothers and I got separated and shuffled through the foster system, scattering us across different states.

“How long ago you say it was? 28 years?” Ben asked.

“Yeah” I confirmed.

“Was it right out here off the left side of the road?”

“Yeah” I confirmed hesitantly.

“Oh boy I remember that one. I was a fireman and remember that well. It was raining right? Weekend? September?”

I shook my head to confirm not sure if I really want to hear this but placing my Big Red on the counter contradicting that thought.

“Yeah I remember that. That was the first time I ever performed CPR in fact.“ Watching Ben intently, I could see him talking started to bring back bad memories for him. As he pictured that night in his head his words got thicker and heavier. “But it was too late, her .. uh.. her chest was already caved in,” he trailed off.

I just stood there which felt like hours but probably only moments, trying to comprehend what I just heard. I wasn’t sure what to think. I wasn’t sure what to say. I could clearly see this effected Ben but how do you talk your way out of that bomb shell? It was a very strange interaction and towards the end of that pause it seemed we both were trying to figure out a way to comfort the other but not knowing how because we were both strangers.

“Well I’m sorry that your first experience with CPR didn’t work out.” I’m not even sure why I said that. It was the only thing I could think of saying. An awkward silence passed then I thanked Ben for the info, shook his hand, grabbed my Big Red and headed out the door.

What the hell just happened in there??? I sat in my car for a little while thinking about the exchange. Picturing the accident. Picturing younger Ben running out there to the wreckage, pulling my mom from the car and trying to save her life. I thought about how hard that must have been for Ben. Who had three children of his own that were my age. Who might have even known me or my brothers. Ben, who had to live with the thought of someone dying in front of him as he tried desperately to breathe life into her collapsed lungs. “On his watch.” I felt bad for Ben. I felt guilty to know that my mom put him through that. Who knows what nightmares he had after that night. And who knows what memories I just triggered. Just then Ben walked outside and made eye contact with me. For a second I thought he was going to come up to me. Give me the universal sign to roll down your window. Tell me some more stories about my mom and share memories that I could adopt as my own. Give me a hug. Me give him a hug. Pat me on the back I don’t know. But instead, he gave a half-nervous/surprised smile, clearly not expecting to ever see me again, and proceeded to the soda machines where he checked the money compartment and removed a few bills. I returned the same smile and backed out of there (being sure no curbs were going to jump out in front of me) and drove off.

That encounter with Ben caught me off guard. I didn’t think I would see anyone I knew or meet anyone that would remotely remember us, or the accident, but one of the three people I spoke with on my trip thus far was one of the last people to see my mom alive. What are the odds?

I had enough after that and needed to sit down. Relax. Write down my thoughts while they were fresh. So I drove further down the highway where I was looking for a Starbucks or some coffee shop where it was normal to sit for hours with a laptop in front of you. I drove up the stretch to Seymour were all the stores were located and must have passed two McDonalds, two Mexican restaurants, a Papa Johns, a Sonic, a Hardees, an Applebee’s, two Wendy’s, three Chinese restaurants, some place called Tumbleweeds, what seemed like 30 Arby’s and a DVD rental place but no Starbucks or coffee shop. A DVD RENTAL PLACE!!!! No Starbucks. Its not like I could just sit down in McDonalds, whip out my laptop and type over a cup of coffee. People wouldn’t know what to think of me. So I settled on Applebee’s where I ordered a triple chocolate meltdown and a cup of coffee and sat down with my computer in front of me. Like a weirdo.

Today was a pretty heavy day. Lots of old memories. Lots of new memories. Smiles. Tears. I didn’t feel up to going to the cemetery tonight. It was already raining and I wanted to call it a day. So I decided to drive back to my hotel.

The drive back was only about 12 miles away but it was the scariest drive I ever took. Nothing really happened... It was just… It felt like I was going to relive my past. The road I had to take to get back to my hotel was the same road that took my mom’s life. It was the same rainy conditions. And it was very dark. I’m not familiar with the area and cars seemed to be driving a little too fast. Corners seemed to come out of nowhere. My visibility was impaired. Thoughts of her accident distracted me. Thoughts of Ben racing out to save my mom distracted me. As I passed by his store again I saw the lights still on. I wanted to stop in and talk to him some more. Try to get more information from him. Ask him more questions, even though I didn’t have any. I wanted to say thank you for trying. I wanted to tell him it wasn’t his fault and to not feel any guilt or blame. I didn’t want him to hurt or feel that he failed…. I just kept driving. It was a very scary drive. But I made it. I made it safely back to my room and was welcomed by the humming sound of the ac/heater sitting below my window.

Tomorrow I’ll say goodbye to my mom.