Two Walls and a Roof (58 page)

It was late when we all said good bye, and we retired to our beds. I had the top bu
nk and felt claustrophobic,
falling asleep eventually, but JoAnn was so enthralle
d and excited by her experience
that she didn’t sleep at all, and kept looking out at the c
ities and towns of her homeland
as they rushed by in
the dark. In the early morning
we arrived into Kansas City
. C
onfused by the time zones, and
having got no warning from our c
oncierge, we almost stayed on the train and would have ended in Chicago. Perhaps he was planning on another financial incentive at the Kansas City stopover, but we never saw him again.

We spent a day exploring Kansas City, and around four p
.
m
. I heard for the last time that famous train
call, “Board
, all aboard”. We were then just hours away from our family and home in Missouri. The train travelled along a track running parallel to the mighty Missouri River, and as darkness fell, I slipped into a deep and dreamless sleep. Hours later our Amtrak train pulled into the
Washington Missouri station where
we were excitedly greeted by JoAnn’s daughter Jessica, and our granddaughter, Paige. With the bags quickly stowed away, we headed for home, with me in the front
,
and JoAnn and Paige in the back. Paige soon fell sound asleep
,
and after an initial burst of talk, it soon subsided.

We turned south onto I44, a road that parallels t
he old Route 66, and in my mind
I began to relive our amazing trip. But after da
ys and days of fulfilled dreams
and miracles of all kinds, I was totally exhausted and drifted into a kind of strange trancelike state, neither aw
ake nor asleep. In the distance
I could still hear the soft southern accents, and I felt comfortable and safe with Jessica doing the driving.

JoAnn was asking Jessica if there was any news from home. Then I he
ard her say,
“Well, Gran
d
pa Earl is not doing so good”.

“What’s
wrong with my dad
?
” concern immediately apparent in JoAnn
’s voice. “They don’t know yet. H
e has to go into hospital next week for some tests”.  That news unnerved me, and in my half state of consciousn
ess, I began to go back in time
to my first meeting with JoAnn’s father.

I remembered how this ex Deputy Sheriff had cautiously, but warmly welcomed me into his home many years earlier. How he took such pride in showing me all of his guns, especia
lly a gun that he had hand
made. Some friend of his had argued that a gun could not be made from bits and pieces found around the house, and Ear
l took up the challenge as
a bet with him, and he won that bet.

As he showed me this beautiful hand carved pistol, he could clearly see that I fell instantly in love with it, and then he promised to give it to me ‘before he passed away’.

I remembered his humour and what we called his ‘Earlisms’. These were sayings he had that were unique to him. One time I had thought about buying a ticket for a local car raffle, and Earl gave me this advice. In his slow southern accent he sai
d, “Well
John
…if I were you I would save my money
because those people are so crooked that when they die, we will have to screw them into the ground
,
” an ‘Earlism’ I’ll never forget.

Over the following years on my many visits to America, we had become great friends, and sometimes I felt that he thought of me as the son he never had.

As I thought of those days, for some strange reaso
n
my memory returned to an earlier day in West Cork just before our Arizona trip, when JoAnn had told me that her hands were hurting. She said that whenever her hands hurt, it was a sign that bad news was coming, and that something would happen in America. Could the bad news be Earl’s illness? I brushed off my forebodings by thinking of Earl’s wife Georgia, and how she remin
ded me so much of my own mother
because both of them smoked like chimneys and had an infectious laugh. I felt that Georgia and my mother woul
d have become great friends too
because of their common addiction to cigare
ttes, and their love of cooking.
Today
as I write, both of them have since given up cigarettes
. M
iracles are still happening.

Had my mother ever made it to America, I could easily see u
s all sitting around a barbeque
in the warm evening air, laughing and joking, with mother telling ever
yone
her numerous stories about her Henry, while all the tim
e keeping the mosquitoes at bay
with the clouds of smoke from her fags. It was a magical vision warming my soul with she
er happiness, but unfortunately
it was never to be.

Then I began missing my own mother,
and still in that dreamy state
I crossed over the ocean and saw her smiling and welcoming me into her room with a big Irish hug. In my mind
I sat down on her bed
and began telling her all about the wonderful dream trip we had just completed. She listened carefully and looked so
very happy on hearing all of my
news, and was just about t
o say something really profound
when I was gently but firmly
pulled back into reality
by JoAnn shaking my shoulder.

“Honey, wake up, you
’
r
e
almost at home
. D
o you know where you are now Punkin
?
”
  Reluctantly
I
focused
my eyes on the road ahead, and immediately knew exactly where we were. We were driving through the town of Cuba, Missouri, crossing a junction I knew very well indeed.

“Of course I know where we are
,
” I said rather gruffly, still wanting to hear what my mother was trying to tell me.

“Jessica has just crossed over old Route 66, where you gave me my first driving lesson
here
in America, and it was in this very jeep too
. N
ow will you let me go back to my dreams
, please
”.  I t
ried hard to return to my trancelike
state, but then almost at home, JoAnn was determined to have more fun at my expense, and so she started to rise me
again
.

“You were snoring loudly
too, did you know that Punkin? A
nd what were you dreaming about anyway
?
”  Peals of laughter t
hen followed my vehement denial
of my snoring faux pas, though I
secretly
suspected it might be true. “Ahh come on now, tell us what you were dreaming
about
. W
hat was
so very important
about it
?
” Again I
said
gruffly
, “Well, if you must know, I was dreaming of my mother, and I was telling her all about our
great adventure when you shook
me awake”.  M
ore laughter then followed from the
two Americans. They saw right through my veiled
pretence at being annoyed
at them
. “An
d what did she say, Irishman?”
I paused for a while, and in m
y mind
I returned to my mother where I
heard her
clearly speak. S
miling, I turned
round in my seat and looked back at my beautiful American wife.
 
“
Well if you must know, m
y mother ju
st said, ‘
John
,
you’ve come a long way f
rom
Two Walls and a Roo
f
,
h
aven’t you
’.
”

I thought about it
for a moment and
said, “Yes
mother
, but it’s not over yet”.

In memory of Earl Garms, who pa
ssed away
from us all
on December 3rd 2010
.

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