On the trip to said Mayberry, I saw the last Wisconsin sunset that I would see for a while. It was definitely worth the price of admission. I also relished my last opportunity to get irked about Chicago traffic. And, in the hundreds of trips that I've taken through Chicago, I finally, for the first and possibly last time, visited the city's luxurious and scenic South Side. What's the occasion? Well, it just seemed like it was time to indulge (after almost running out of gas on the freeway). I'm glad I did, because I found that the South Side of Chicago is just a great place to get away to with every worldly possession that you own packed in your car in the middle of the night when you don't know where you are and you may run out of gas at any minute. Take it from me.
Finally, I got to my home away from home. There, my Grandmother and Uncle stayed up past their bedtimes and the three of us talked about this, that... practicalities and the sort. My Grandmother and Grandfather both had seven siblings, and my mother is one of five, and pretty much everybody else is still in the area, so, when we talk, there's always news. To spread the word of my departure to all these people, I made one phone call to my Aunt. In a small town, that works like a charm.
The other bit of info that I received is that my Uncle (who's technically my cousin once removed, but who's counting?), wound up in the hospital due to heart problems. He would have gone to the hospital in town, but he decided that he felt sick enough, slow enough that his wife should keep driving to the other hospital-- the one that isn't known for patient neglect. He's the family historian, and I got to visit him while accompanying my Grandmother to a doctor's appointment.
He was laying in bed, wearing a hospital gown, stitched up, and giving me the details of his predicament. Intermittently, he would get up to spit in the garbage can that was a few steps away, with his unfastened gown showing what God gave him to the rest of creation. And I was there, too. Sadly.
We talked baseball, watched cartoons, and sooner or later started talking about my move.
"You know, for a while, California was the place to be," he said.
"Oh?"
"Yeah, I think Scott was even born there."
I had been taking notes from distant relatives' transgressions into the great beyond. My favorite cue was my Great-Grandmother, who became a fan of the AL Angels so as to not conflict with her allegiance to the NL Cubbies. Same with me and the Brewers now.
"So where you movin' to?"
"Alhambra."
"Really? I think ____ and _____ lived in Alhambra!" [Remember, hundreds of relatives. Thousands, practically. Names are hard.] He began to get up. "Op! I need to spit again." I rushed to move the garbage can to him, but he intervened. "No, don't worry, I got it."
Unfastened gown.
Strangely, despite the gown situation, I still left the experience feeling a little more at ease. People had done this before. They had left, seen what it was like, and had come back. Nobody in my Mother's immediate family had, but Mayberry forgives, right?
That night, I sat down with my extended family, ate spaghetti that we had been getting from the same restauraunt for as long as I can remember, caught up, laughed, hugged, and went to bed early.
I woke up at 4:30 the next morning. The relaxed atmosphere of the previous night had been replaced by determination. From here, it was all uncharted territory. I would be taking a fourteen hour drive to Kilgore, TX to visit a friend. The car sounded fine, my bags were packed, and all systems appeared to be go. My phone was updating, but how long could that last? I kissed my Grandmother and Uncle goodbye, and I got my early start, before the sun peeked over whatever it is that they have in Illinois instead of hills.
It was going to be a hot one.
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