RC Cola and Memories

I used to tell people I was born fifty years later than I should have been.

I miss the days when we would play outside without worrying about locking our doors.

I miss the days when a grown man could hug a child without worrying that people were thinking he was some kind of pervert.

I miss the days when being a bad kid at school meant you talked in class, chewed gum, or (heaven-forbid) copied off another student.

Lately, I have realized that I am so very thankful to be living in the time we are living. So many wonderful things that make me thankful.

Air-conditioning. Medication. And diet sodas that don't taste diet.

I love the Diet Dr. Pepper ads. "Tastes more like regular Dr. Pepper."

Than what? A fistful of dirt? Perhaps.

The newest rage, started by Dr. Pepper is the "10" movement. As I write this, I'm finishing off an RC Cola 10.

The last time I had an RC was probably as a teenager. I say that because as I drink it, memories flood my mind.

I can vividly remember sitting at the breakfast table of Nana and Daddad's home in Leisure World in Mesa Arizona, looking out the window at the Superstition Mountains in the distance.

It amazes me that I can smell something, or taste something, and so clearly remember something from more than thirty years ago. Then I have a hard time remembering where I set my keys ten minutes before.

There are so many wonderful memories from back then. Listening to Nana tell such incredible stories from their travels...sleeping in the second bedroom on the rollaway beds, reading the Snoopy books. I still remember the ones where Snoopy was imitating Lucy by rolling his ears into the shape of her hair, and mimicking her angry movements.

I remember the beautiful sound the little clock in the front hallway made when it chimed on the quarter hours, and the song it played every hour. I remember the pocket door on the hall bath. I had never seen one before that, and thought it was about the coolest thing ever.

I remember walking to the community center, and putting twenty-five cents in the gumball machine to get Kix cereal out to feed the Koi.

I remember the train set in the garage, and how cool his setup was. I remember the family houses he had lovingly constructed out of balsa wood.

Thinking of Nana and Daddad, I also have vivid memories of the house they had in El Paso, although the images come back in smaller pieces.

But I remember sitting in the little bar area eating cereal for breakfast, or cold cuts for lunch. I remember it was off the kitchen, which was separated from the rest of the house by folding accordion doors.

I remember the orange carpet in the front bedroom and the dark red tile in the kitchen and back den. I remember the rock wall in the backyard, and how cool it all looked to me. I remember playing with the white plastic thunderbird cars on the wooden footrests in the living room.

I remember the hazelnut coffee in the morning, and how wonderful it smelled. As an adult, I smelled that, and the memories came rushing back. It was only then that I learned it was hazelnut.

How can it be that so many vivid memories survived for so many years?

I believe it was because of the people that were my Nana and Daddad.

I only got to see them once a year or so. But it was my favorite place in the whole world.

It took growing older to realize people make the home, not the furnishings. And it makes me realize what wonderful people Nana and Daddad truly were.

I know that if I live to be a hundred, I will never stop missing them, and the beautiful memories they gave me.

Birthday

Well, I've hit another birthday (thank you, God, for another day/year/whatever You choose to bless me with).

I was reminded on my way in to work this morning of a weekend camping trip with my son. It was fifteen years ago, but something on the radio brought back a memory, and made me laugh.

I decided to surprise Chase with a camping trip to exotic Lake Grapevine (because it was the closest decent place). I picked him up at 6:00 Friday evening, and we drove to the lake. It was dark by the time we got there, but we set up the tent, and I built a fire. We used coat hangers to roast our hot dogs that we enjoyed with potato chips.

I learned a couple of things that night that seem like common sense now. But in the heat of silliness, common sense isn't often the foremost thought process.

1. Potato chips are flammable. Again, it seems like common sense. After all, they're cooked in oil. But as I slid the end of the coat hanger into the looped end of a chip, that thought didn't occur to me. Hearing Chase giggle at the flaming snack made me laugh out loud. (That was back when it was really laughing out loud, and not LOL). Seeing the chip on fire, and the delighted giggles it brought was a lot funnier than I had anticipated.

2. When you first blow out the flames from a potato chip, chances are the chip will retain the heat for several seconds. Again....common sense. But quickly shoving the chip into my mouth brought that startling revelation to life. I'm not sure if I was able to taste anything else the entire weekend or not. It wasn't my smartest moment.

Saturday, we spent our time walking along the shore, looking for bad guys. We found several, but not to worry. The Sheriff and I handily dispatched them all. We were wounded a couple of times, but we had our first aid kit. We were able to remove the bullets, and patch each other up. Remarkably, we continued on our quest without so much as a hospital visit.

The afternoon involved a leaf fight. It started with pushing leaves together into a pile to jump into. It de-escalated quickly. I don't remember a lot of details except the laughter. How can a bunch of dead leaves turn into such a hilarious experience?

As I've grown older (I'll not use the term "mature" for fear of reprisal from those who actually know me), I've learned that simple things like leaf fights, and searching for escaped bank robbers are the things that we remember. Spending the time with a loved one, even just acting silly, is time invested in something that will truly last.

I've asked Chase about several things that have happened in his life.

He doesn't remember things I think would be "important” or "big" events. But he remembers the leaf fight, and the flaming potato chip.

Thank you, God, for allowing me to have the time I've had. To have the family and friends I've had to share my life with. And for the "little things" along the way that will forever mean the most.

Pate Musueum

So I heard this week that the Pate Museum is closing, and auctioning off cars this weekend.

For those of you who aren't aware, Pate Museum was opened in the late sixties, showing off a collection of cars owned by A.M. Pate (Aggie).  He began collecting in the sixties, and continued through most of the eighties, until his death in '88.  The Pate Museum was located near Cresson, southwest of Fort Worth on 377.

One of my favorite things to do as a kid was to go to Pate Museum.  Back then, the cars weren't the main draw for me.  It was the collection of planes, tanks, cannons and other war relics outside.  Now that I'm older, I have a deeper appreciation for the cars on display.  Inside the buildings, along with the cars, was a small lunar module.  That was always pretty cool to look at.

The best thing about Pate (that I probably didn't even know as a kid), is that it was free. 

I took my son there once, when he was about eight.  Passing along the tradition my father shared with me wasn't quite the hit I had hoped it would be.  His favorite thing to do was the periscope.  It is inside the lobby, and you can look through it to see the outside.  We weren't allowed to climb on or in the tank anymore, which I'm sure he would have enjoyed.  The trampoline that my brother and I used to love to play on was also gone. 

One of the blogs I read about the museum closing stated that the cars had become dirty, and some were starting to rust.  That's unfortunate.  But maybe the auctioned cars will find good homes with people who will keep them in the pristine condition I remember them being in. 

Pate Museum holds a special place in the our hearts.  Thank you Mr. Pate, for allowing so many of us to create so many wonderful memories.