Pondering
PALS
A nice sunshiny day in downtown El Paso, two pals cruising.
When Riding Felt Free. Or, My Dad Got Tied UP
There was time long ago, or was it not that long ago when life had more freedom. When locking the front door was not a necessity. When little children could ride the bus downtown in a group to watch a movie at the theater without a chaperon. Just a group of kids. There was never a thought that anything bad would happen, and you know what? Nothing bad happened. Seat belts weren't even in cars back then and I could ride next to my dad. When I was small enough, I could stand next to him, lean on his right shoulder and feel his arm as it shifted through three gears on the steering column stick shifter.
One Saturday morning when I was about 8 years old, we went to town to visit my grandfather at his full service Standard Oil gas station. Grandpa Jim would always give me a nickle from the cash register and let me get a bottle of coca cola from the chest style coke box, the kind where you had to slide the bottle through a simple maze before the coke could be pulled upward and freed from the box. Opening the bottle with the mounted opener on the side of the box was a small challenge too. One had to earn the right to drink a coke. After a short visit at Grandpa Jim's station on this particular pretty Saturday morning dad needed to make another stop to say hello to some of his buddies. I was to wait outside in the car. Windows down, pretty morning, soft peaceful traffic that only a Saturday morning can produce, I enjoyed those moments sitting in the passenger seat waiting for my dad. The house he was visiting had the windows up and door open with screens allowing cool air and happy noise of chatting and laughter flow in and out. When my dad came out he jogged to the car and we got going towards home in a jiffy. I really enjoyed riding with my dad, like when he had to make a dash to Henry's on a quick bread run or whatever. I usually leaned on his shoulder while in the car, and try to talk him into a Snickers bar while in the store. But again on this particular Saturday morning, when we got home he explained to my mom that the trip took longer than normal is because he got tied up with his extra shop. I heard this and I wondered about it for most of the day.
Late that afternoon, I asked dad how he got untied. If his friends helped or he had to figure out how to do it on his own. He looked at me confused and asked me what I was talking about. I reminded him that he told mom that he got tied up that morning while he was in that house. Then he smiled and told me that it was just a way of saying that he spent longer than planned in that house with his buddies. Of course it would be years before I would understand what the meaning of a metaphor was. Nowadays I think that sometimes pondering the literal meaning of words for whole day adds value to the figurative meaning at the end of the day.
A nice sunshiny day in downtown El Paso, two pals cruising.
When Riding Felt Free. Or, My Dad Got Tied UP
There was time long ago, or was it not that long ago when life had more freedom. When locking the front door was not a necessity. When little children could ride the bus downtown in a group to watch a movie at the theater without a chaperon. Just a group of kids. There was never a thought that anything bad would happen, and you know what? Nothing bad happened. Seat belts weren't even in cars back then and I could ride next to my dad. When I was small enough, I could stand next to him, lean on his right shoulder and feel his arm as it shifted through three gears on the steering column stick shifter.
One Saturday morning when I was about 8 years old, we went to town to visit my grandfather at his full service Standard Oil gas station. Grandpa Jim would always give me a nickle from the cash register and let me get a bottle of coca cola from the chest style coke box, the kind where you had to slide the bottle through a simple maze before the coke could be pulled upward and freed from the box. Opening the bottle with the mounted opener on the side of the box was a small challenge too. One had to earn the right to drink a coke. After a short visit at Grandpa Jim's station on this particular pretty Saturday morning dad needed to make another stop to say hello to some of his buddies. I was to wait outside in the car. Windows down, pretty morning, soft peaceful traffic that only a Saturday morning can produce, I enjoyed those moments sitting in the passenger seat waiting for my dad. The house he was visiting had the windows up and door open with screens allowing cool air and happy noise of chatting and laughter flow in and out. When my dad came out he jogged to the car and we got going towards home in a jiffy. I really enjoyed riding with my dad, like when he had to make a dash to Henry's on a quick bread run or whatever. I usually leaned on his shoulder while in the car, and try to talk him into a Snickers bar while in the store. But again on this particular Saturday morning, when we got home he explained to my mom that the trip took longer than normal is because he got tied up with his extra shop. I heard this and I wondered about it for most of the day.
Late that afternoon, I asked dad how he got untied. If his friends helped or he had to figure out how to do it on his own. He looked at me confused and asked me what I was talking about. I reminded him that he told mom that he got tied up that morning while he was in that house. Then he smiled and told me that it was just a way of saying that he spent longer than planned in that house with his buddies. Of course it would be years before I would understand what the meaning of a metaphor was. Nowadays I think that sometimes pondering the literal meaning of words for whole day adds value to the figurative meaning at the end of the day.
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