Santa Stops Here

Not too long ago I lived on five acres about an hour from town with little more than a 7-11, NAPA Auto Parts and Southern States nearby (which is all anyone needs really). Toward the end of my ten year residence in that rural community my parents decided to leave the Shore and move to be near me. For the initial three months of their new adventure "near" meant underneath my feet living with me and my husband. We'll talk about how that went later, but for now I want to reminisce about this one episode.

I came home from work to find mom in her usual spot in front of the kitchen sink washing dishes. Mom has a compulsion to wash dishes and she seems obsessed with the sink. Most people load a dishwasher. Instead, mom sees any opportunity to wash a dish or a glass and immediately props herself right there to do so. Sometimes I think she deliberately messes up a glass just to have an excuse.

Anyway, this story is really about my dad so now I will get back on track. Having spoke to mom, I proceeded with my usual routine of changing clothes to workout on the treadmill in my garage. On the way to the garage, however, I noticed something a bit odd. A garden hose attached to the pump was leading straight into the woods. Even more confusing was the sight of an extension cord in parallel also leading straight into the woods. Mind you my woods were just woods - there was no structure or reason I was aware of requiring water and electricity but I of course had to investigate.

So I did. I followed the green and orange trail into the bush ever curious. Within several yards, I could hear some music. The hose and cord led me to a camp, and you guessed it, my dad. During the move he had apparently come across some of his boy scout equipment and decided to put it to good use. He had a tarp serving as his roof and unpacked his cooking essentials. I don't think the $5.00 folding chair strung between two trees was boy scout issued, but it complimented the space well. I doubt one could have been successful in using the "hammock" but I'll give him points for creativity. Of course he get points too for the idea of upgrading his camp with running water and electricity.

I'm sure this was to him a great idea and long range plan to get some space from my mom. My dad always joked about living in a camp in my woods and by God he actually did it. But what is still a mystery to this day is the sign that he chose to hammer into the ground marking his haven. I'll never forget what I saw as I approached dad's camp. The packing and unpacking of the move had turned up more than just survival gear from his Eagle Scout days. At first sight of the camp was a sign attached to a pole that simply said "Santa Stops Here."

Celery and Soap

I heard a car come down the driveway today while bathing my dog and sure enough it was the black hood of a Park Avenue. An unannouced visit from mom is a regular occurence and you just never know what to expect - other than she will be getting ice (another story).


Today's main objective was a celery delivery. I didn't ask for any celery but in her estimation, I apparently needed some. Even with a broken toe, it was important that half a bag of celery not go to waste - at least in her refrigerator - better to do so in mine.


This particular visit also included a jar of hand soap. After carving up the package of celery, she hobbled back to the car, retrieved said soap and placed it on the counter. Not a word - just sat it down next to the sink. I felt bad my crippled mother was limping around to deliver celery and soap. I would have been glad to make those trips back and forth to car for her if she had only clued me in to her plan.


As such, the actions she takes and the reasons behind them are better left alone. I should applaud her for not wanting the celery to go to waste. And I am grateful for ANY item she chooses to remove from her pack rat house. But if nothing else the delivery was a reason to drop by. I'm told on a recurring basis that I do not spend enough time with her. According to mom we are to talk at least once a day and spend time together at least once a week. Mom has all the perfect plans for my life if only I would execute them.

The Dream

With a title like this I suppose one would expect a post about life, dreams and the details of success or failure. I'm still dreaming about a lot of things I haven't even attempted yet, so this is not such a story.

There are many things about the Shore I still remember fondly. Perhaps the greatest was my grandfather's farm and the art of being the only grand "daughter" of six grandchildren. But there will always be a place in my heart for The Dream.

The Dream is a roller rink - a real roller rink with hard wood floors. I'm sorry, but concrete does not a roller rink make. But this rink was even more special because of mom. While Mr. Jimmy and Ms. Mary Lou were king and queen in this fairy tale place we would go to escape life one oval at a time, mom was bell of the ball.

I would often wish I could have been at The Dream without my mom, but Ms. Iris was a staple. Mom helped behind the counter selling pizza and drinks and she taught many a wobbly kid how to skate. Yet the sight we all loved to watch was the waltz. Yes, I said the waltz. During couples skate while hormone crazed teenagers were finding the courage to ask someone to skate - mom and Mr. Jimmy would take the floor and waltz. They looked like they were floating. I don't know how they managed to make it look so easy. Watching mom do a complete 360 made me jealous - I mean how could she show me up like that every week? Actually I suppose I was happy for her - I've never seen someone so elated to be on skates.

The Dream is where it seems I spent most of my awkward puberty - going round and round trying to look cool and catch a boy's eye. One bench was located in a corner under very dim light and this became the "make out" bench where everyone hoped they would end up with their fantasy of the week. I didn't get many invites. I guess having your mom around does put a damper on an otherwise thrilling teenage love life.

Unfornutately it's been years since my mom was on skates and rink sits empty now, but the memories are there even if The Dream is gone.