Barb Sorenson
What Really Matters
Sounds of laughter. Standing on chairs just to be heard. Sharing the events of the day. Growing up at my house equated to many fond memories around the kitchen table. Mom not only prepared real home-cooked meals, she also dazzled us with endless literary delight: quoting proverbs, reciting Shakespeare, and all the while using her exquisite vocabulary. Nothing was simply green; it was a muted shade of chartreuse. Her favorite question was, ?Will it matter ten years from now?? Dad was excitement, enthusiasm, and energy?and the original version of Rodney Dangerfield. He often stated with a smirk, ?I always get the neck of the chicken.? I don?t remember Mom ever cooking the neck of the chicken, but my two older brothers ate an amazing amount of food. No one just shared the day?s news; each master storyteller stood on a chair, arms waving, voices inflecting. This dramatic repartee taught me to love life and to laugh.
The lesson proved invaluable. Twenty-six years ago I said ?I do? to the man of my dreams, my knight in shining armor, my husband Rich. My life began a series of ?New Beginnings.?
Chapter One: The wedding. Getting married six days after graduating from college has its challenges. Which is more important? Studying the great works of Shakespeare or selecting the perfect flowers for the wedding? It wasn?t easy to find the right flowers to go with those baby blue tuxedoes. Then there was that little incident about the wedding dress. Who would have thought that after four years of living in a girl?s dorm, it would be my wedding dress that I accidentally left behind? Luckily, there was little doubt of ownership for a straggler wedding dress.
Chapter Two: The honeymoon. My mother never told me it was going to be like this. At four o?clock, just hours after being pronounced man and wife, we took off for Winnipeg, Manitoba, our honeymoon destination. Our ?69 Chevy Malibu started to cough and sputter a short two hours later, as we reached the Canadian border. Surely it was a reaction to the shaving cream oozing all over the car screaming ?Just Married.? We limped into the gas station in Emerson, Manitoba. Population: 250.
Pulling into a rustic old station, the attendant rushed to the aid of his ailing patient, ?She doesn?t sound so good. What did ya? do to it??
What do you mean ?What did we do?? Doesn?t he realize this is my honeymoon? Just fix it!
My husband, the epitome of patience and logic, responded with detailed facts. Didn?t he realize this was not the time for reason? It was our honeymoon!
To my complete surprise, it wasn?t the shaving cream; we needed a new fuel pump, and they sold their last fuel pump ten minutes earlier.
?Sorry guys, it?s six and we?re closed ?til Monday. We could try to order you a new fuel pump then.?
Closed until Monday reeled around in my brain. Didn?t anyone understand? Monday was two days, forty-eight hours, 2,880 minutes. My entire honeymoon. We had to move to a place called Lubbock, Texas in seven days, where Rich would begin pilot training. Regroup. In two weeks time, I would graduate from college, marry, and move 1200 miles from home.
THIRTEEN SECONDS TILL MELT DOWN!
Sensing my fragile state, he quickly added, ?You know, you can take the bus. It?ll pick you up right under that sign there around midnight.?
We had time to enjoy a gourmet meal before our ?luxury transportation? would appear. We still had hope, but we held hands, just in case. Entering the only eating establishment in town, my romantic illusions of fine dining immediately shattered. There was no well-mannered maitre?d ready to show us to our candlelit table, although the fellow behind the bar did point his index finger to a table conveniently located under the flashing neon Schlitz beer sign. Rather than toasting crystal glasses of champagne, we clinked two bottles of cold beer. Hopes of a perfectly charbroiled filet mignon were replaced with the smell of the catch of the day, fried in day old grease. The jukebox blared, ?Killing me Softly with His Song.? I had thoughts of killing, but I wasn?t quite sure who or what yet! Here in this piece of paradise, we shared our first dinner as husband and wife. But we were together and we held hands.
After our adventure in culinary delight, we strolled along the scenic railroad tracks. The sun sank slowly into the horizon as my heels sunk into the soft dirt next to the rails. Under my breath, I kept asking myself, will this matter ten years from now?
A journey begins with a single step; mine began with a bus. When the bus arrived promptly at midnight, I nudged my sweetie awake. Exhausted from all the excitement of the day, my knight in shining armor had temporarily slipped off his horse and fallen fast asleep. Mother never told me it would be like this. The bus driver in total innocence inquired, ?Who?s coming on the bus?? I?m not sure he had any experience picking up newlyweds.
The floodgates let loose, and through a deluge of tears and sobs I stammered, ?It?s my honeymoon!? My wilted coursage said it all, looking pathetically worn and frazzled. He quickly loaded both suitcases onto the bus and we followed, holding hands.
New beginnings don?t always go as planned. Years later, twenty-six to be exact, my life is still just a series of new beginnings. Each requires a good sense of humor. Three children, four sets of braces, ten moves, college tuition, new jobs, new friends, new experiences, new chapters.
I have my own kitchen table now, where many memories are created. My children are master storytellers, arms waving, voices inflecting, and when necessary, standing on a chair for emphasis. We love life and laugh?. and hold hands. This is what matters ten years from now!