Cross-Country Ramble 40: My Dad

Sent: 04/11/98

Every fall when I was growing up in Michigan my father used to say, "This year we're going to move back to Florida." My father finally did move back to Florida when he retired. He lived here for 15 years before he died from throat cancer in 1985. I still miss him.

As we pedal by small gardens along US 90 I remember the vegetable garden Dad was so proud of, especially because he could grow both a winter and a summer garden. One year when we came down to visit at Christmas he sent us home with a whole bushel of sweet potatoes that he had wrapped in newspaper and kept stored in boxes under his bed.

As we pedal past pecan trees I remember that every Christmas my dad sent us a Pringles can of perfectly halved pecans from the pecan tree he grew in his front yard. The Christmas we didn't get those I knew he was really sick.

Ken and I pull into one of those Indian River fruit stands popular all over Florida. I remember when Ken and I, our son and daughter, both adolescents at the time, and our dog, all came to Florida in the yellow Renault LeCar for a Christmas visit (our bigger car was a gas hog and we were trying to save a little money). Each of us was allowed to bring one grocery bag full for our luggage. Four bags would fit in the car's "trunk." As we were preparing to go back home, Dad came back from a friend's house. In the heat and sun he had picked us about a bushel of Grapefruit. I think he just about had a heat stroke doing this. I didn't know where we were going to put all those Grapefruit. Dad just starting putting them in the car, tucking them on the back ledge of the seat, squashing our bags together and sticking them in between. All the way back home, every time we made a turn, the Grapefruit would roll back and forth across the ledge and around in the car. The grapefruit were the sweetest I have ever eaten.

This time my dad's not here to give us fruits or vegetables.

Rain was threatening when Ken and I started out biking last Tuesday. About 10 miles from our destination it began to sprinkle. Suddenly, it was pouring. I remember once when I was visiting Dad, I got caught running in the rain. I started out on a cloudy afternoon. Dad warned me it might rain. I shook off the warning glibly. If it rained I would just be cooled off. Not long after I started the clouds began to get closer and darker. Pretty soon I could hear thunder rumble off in the distance. Then I noticed a few lightning flashes. It began to drizzle. I was about five miles from my dad's. I turned around and started back. The thunder and lightning got closer. It was raining harder. There was no place to stop and call my dad. I kept running. I was getting worried. I could either remain in the roadway, the tallest object in the area, or get under a tree. Neither alternative looked good. I kept running. Pretty soon I saw my dad's rusty old International Harvester truck coming toward me with lights on and windshield wipers going. What a welcome sight!

My dad won't be here to pick me up this time.

We met a man in Pensacola who had a voice much like my dads, a southern drawl but yet with an edge to it. When talking with my dad I could never tell at the beginning of a conversation whether it was going to be a cheerful talk or one of those dark ones. I remember having a heated argument about civil rights one time standing under the live oak at his house. At some point I realized I was not going to change my mind and my Dad wasn't going to change mine. I decided there was no point in arguing. After that, when he raised controversial issues, I listened.

My Dad was always so happy when we came to visit. He would run out of the house waving and shouting hello. He hugged and kissed us and exclaimed how glad he was to see us. He won't be here to greet us when we arrive in St. Augustine but I'll be thinking about him.

Carol

Itinerary (days from Ventura, CA, in ( )'s)

• Day 37 (96) Lake City, FL
• Day 38 (97) Starke, FL

Ramble 41: It is Finished!