(My writing has strayed a bit from politics of late but I am heading back in that direction because of the accumulation of injustices and the ignoramuses who run our state.
Where the hell you been, Coldwater? Imagine my surprise when my company offered me a transfer to Coldwater 25 years later. I laughed when the offer was made and then had to explain my response. Good times!!
Another beautiful piece of writing and strong memory. As a kid in the 60s we visited my Father’s parents in Alabama once a year. Makin’ “good time” was important to my Dad, too. Only for us (a black family driving through John Bell Williams’ and George C. Wallace’s “south) it meant gettin’ to where you needed to get before the sun decided to set in the west. My Dad always wore his USAF uniform for that drive from Champaign,Illinois (home of my Mother’s people) down past the “cotton curtain” to visit his folks and back. He prayed the uniform might persuade roadside “wizard
wanna-bes” to look elsewhere for trouble and convince any gas station attendant that we, like the rest of the traveling public should be allowed to use the “good” restroom without interference. Just in case it didn’t, we took along our own “slop jar” to be emptied at the first opportunity. Only once do I remember it becoming necessary to revert to that “second option.” Once was enough.
Thanks, John. I remember my first trip down from Michigan and stopping at a gas station in Memphis as a 7 or 8 year old and seeing the different signs on the bathroom doors and not understanding. Truth is, I still don't understand, nor will I ever. I still worry about my daughter and son-in-law traveling through the South. I'm afraid I always will. Can't begin to imagine what your parents dealt with.
My father drove his 6 (later 7) children on Route 66 from Tennessee to the city of the angels in 1958. I was two or 3 at the time and have no memory of the drive. I do feel confident, however, that we made good time.
Where the hell you been, Coldwater? Imagine my surprise when my company offered me a transfer to Coldwater 25 years later. I laughed when the offer was made and then had to explain my response. Good times!!
Actually made a point of driving through there one time going home from Texas and thought it was a cute little town, if not a bit sedate.
You had to be there. But those of us who were, know that few things were more important than makin' good time.
Thanks for the memory.
I am still driven to make good time. But have learned to slow down and enjoy the journey.
Another beautiful piece of writing and strong memory. As a kid in the 60s we visited my Father’s parents in Alabama once a year. Makin’ “good time” was important to my Dad, too. Only for us (a black family driving through John Bell Williams’ and George C. Wallace’s “south) it meant gettin’ to where you needed to get before the sun decided to set in the west. My Dad always wore his USAF uniform for that drive from Champaign,Illinois (home of my Mother’s people) down past the “cotton curtain” to visit his folks and back. He prayed the uniform might persuade roadside “wizard
wanna-bes” to look elsewhere for trouble and convince any gas station attendant that we, like the rest of the traveling public should be allowed to use the “good” restroom without interference. Just in case it didn’t, we took along our own “slop jar” to be emptied at the first opportunity. Only once do I remember it becoming necessary to revert to that “second option.” Once was enough.
Thanks, John. I remember my first trip down from Michigan and stopping at a gas station in Memphis as a 7 or 8 year old and seeing the different signs on the bathroom doors and not understanding. Truth is, I still don't understand, nor will I ever. I still worry about my daughter and son-in-law traveling through the South. I'm afraid I always will. Can't begin to imagine what your parents dealt with.
My father drove his 6 (later 7) children on Route 66 from Tennessee to the city of the angels in 1958. I was two or 3 at the time and have no memory of the drive. I do feel confident, however, that we made good time.