My Tom Sawyer
Valentine’s Day 2021 has come and gone. Since I am a hopeless romantic, I tried forcing myself to write something inspiring and uplifting. A story of hope and all kinds of mushy stuff, without the sadness, like what I wrote a year ago, here.
Last year this time things were just starting to get back to some sort of normal social interaction for me. Then Covid hit, as if it wanted to wipe out all the progress I made. Luckily, I didn’t take it personally.
Now, some might be thinking, yay, she’s getting back to normal social interaction! Maybe she’s going to tell us she’s finally making all her friends IRL happy and announce some new romance. She found that guy in a baby blue truck, wearing Levi’s, a camo t-shirt, talking about hunting and fishing when they are not working hard.
No. Do you know how hard that would be to find?
Now, I’m not an idiot. I don’t think for a moment, Fred would want me to be alone for the rest of my time on earth. But I do believe in loyalty. Not to him, but to any future person, because anyone worth it, deserves all, or at least most of me to show up. And they deserve me to show up without Fred. So it’s a paradox for now. Because I really want to share stories about Fred until I have absolutely no more to share. I am not sharing for me. I am sharing because I believe he had secrets to life, that many of us desperately search for. So if I can share some stories to get people on a better journey, then why wouldn’t I do it?
It would be easier if I could just identify and bottle up what he had for easier distribution. Or maybe I should just write that book I keep talking about, where that final chapter will finally set me free…
That might be a while, so for now, here goes.
The best way I can describe what Fred had was what I saw in the character Tom Sawyer. Admittedly it has been 30 years since I read the book, and while I can’t recall most of his adventures, I do remember several things that always made me refer to Fred as my Tom Sawyer. Loyalty to friends, sticking up for those in their time of need, being comfortable in his own skin and mostly, being able to avoid trouble. That, was Fred’s specialty.
I remember when Fred’s grandson started reading books. One day he was reading The Adventures of Tom Sawyer. I said to him, “You know, I call your grandfather Tom Sawyer. Do you want to know why?” He replied, “Because he’s always steeped in misery.” I was not in agreement with that statement at all so I said, “No. That’s not him.” His grandson then corrected himself and said, “I mean, mischief.” I said, “Yeah. Yeah, that’s him.”
Fred did not let anyone or anything, stop him from doing the things he wanted to do. And he could talk you into anything. I was recently thinking about how he somehow convinced me to drive from New Jersey to Virginia in a snow storm, to pick up an item he had ordered. Fred was an avid hunter all his life. He saw a news segment about a charity that was giving away track chairs to veteran amputees, that hunted and enjoyed other outdoor activities. These chairs allowed the amputees to travel the rough terrain. Fred was diagnosed with Parkinson’s about 11 years prior and had to give up all hunting except for goose and groundhog. This chair would allow him to hunt turkey, deer and other animals that lived deep in the wild.
Fred ordered his chair with the down payment of 50%. It was built in Virginia and so rather than have it shipped, it made sense (to him) to drive down and pick it up. I remember mentioning to a few people that we were headed down and would plan to stay overnight at his daughter’s, who lived in West Virginia. Everyone I mentioned this to, seemed to know about a big storm headed up the entire east coast. I mentioned this storm to Fred, but the chair was ready, and the storm didn’t seem to be something that would prohibit the pick up.
Down to West Virginia we headed. No snow in site, until the next morning when we had to wake up at the crack of dawn, to start making our way to the final destination. I remember standing in the doorway, looking at everything blanketed with white with the biggest, steadiest flow of snowflakes coming down, that I had ever seen. The storm started the night before, and continued the entire way down. Of course I suggested waiting until the storm was over. But what fun would that be?
At that time Fred wasn’t driving as much. When he got tired I would take over. I knew if he was letting me drive it was because he didn’t feel up to it. Let’s just say if there were ever anything we would be getting a divorce over, it would be our disagreement on driving styles. We would arrive at friend’s homes and he would announce we were going through the DD — the driving divorce. The last thing Fred ever wanted me to do was drive.
We (Tom and I) made it to the track chair factory, with me doing most of the driving. Fred sat down with the woman in the office, to fill out paperwork. It was now time to pay the balance on the machine. Fred, after a minute of feeling around, turned to me and said, “Hey, Giulia. Do you have your credit card on you?” This was a first. Not him, not having his wallet. That I was used to. But I had never handed over my credit card to pay a $6,000 balance. As I handed it over I just said, “You’re gonna have to pay me back this time.”
The balance was paid and we moved to the factory room floor where it was time to load the machine. It came with a metal platform that was pinned to a hitch, for transport. But Fred had a better idea. He thought they could drive the machine up into the back of the Suburban. Of course the lady was happy to entertain the idea. The man that was there, not so much. But they humored Fred as they got ramps out, to then maneuver the machine into the back of the SUV.
Guess what? It wouldn’t fit.
No worries. As they maneuvered it back down the ramps, Fred thought they could angle it a little bit backward, and that might just fit. The woman, once again was happy to give it a try, ignoring the eye rolling of the man. Once again the machine was driven up the ramps… and back down.
Fred was not giving up. Next step was to take the back of the chair off. At this point I was shaking my head as well. I mean, it was looking like it was not going to end well, as the guy glared at my husband. But guess what. The third time was a charm. Everything was loaded and we were ready to hit the road.
I was driving. Still a little annoyed that not only was I talked into this trip, but the prospect of having to drive home, six hours away, with a backseat driver in the front seat. That was, until Fred explained to me why he was so insistent on getting the machine into the back of the Suburban. He knew I would have to drive home, and that the weight of the machine hanging off the back of the SUV would probably make it harder and dangerous. Now how could anyone stay mad about such a sweet and thoughtful man?
Someone once described Fred like a bulldog. When he believed in something he would not let go.
Lucky for me, I was his Becky Thatcher.
Hope you enjoyed this post Valentine’s Day adventure.
