A Paper Moon and a Slight Whistle

Tonight I felt like Mom at 30.  It's rare that this happens as I do not have a husband, four children, a home, a trampoline (the key, clearly!), two cars, several church callings, and dreams of being a therapist.  As I drove home the radio played Nat King Cole's Paper Moon, thank you NPR for your nightly classics. And although this particular song was not on the soundtrack to Sleepless in Seattle it sounded very much like all of those songs and I was suddenly thrown back to our trip to Vegas, when I was 10 and Mom was 31 (my age in roughly 35 sleeps). Margie, Caroline, Amy, Bri, and I somehow fooled the boys into seeing the film, poor guys (11, 8, and 6 years old) were bored stiff but their time was bought with popcorn and Milk Duds. The estrogen charged population (Caroline and I were 10, Bri and Amy were 8 but we were just as hooked on the timeless love story as our moms) walked out of the theater went straight to the store, whichever store sold cassette tapes at the time, and bought the soundtrack to Sleepless in Seattle.  We listened to it all the way back to Chicago, it's amazing my brothers didn't come at us with knives (wait ... ).  Love was tangible at that point in my life.  Papa loved Mom and I could see that, I was part of that.  Annie was not crazy but had fallen in love with Sam via three minute radio spot and in the end would be the new mom to Jonah, Nat would sing about it as would Celine and Harry.  Love is what happened between Uncle and his wife, Gramps and Grams, my parents, and Tom and Meg on the big screen.  And one day it would happen to me. That song, Paper Moon, threw me back into that place of hope.

It was in this 'throw back' haze that I was reminded of the Lunar Eclipse that was occurring.  For an instant I was a bit heart broken that I had broken things off with humans as of late and was one guy short of a couple to experience this not-quite-once-in-a-lifetime-but-rare-enough-to-make-a-moment-out-of-it moment with. Not having a 'him' after this long with a 'him' is hard and not to fall back into that on a night when there was a 'moment' to be had was not easy ... But I rallied quickly as the earth was rotating and my window for sky-nerding-out (the only acceptable kind in my mind) was closing.  I texted A, still awake upstairs, and we met at the door.  We walked outside to see nothing but a regular moon and decided that the city lights were going to cause a problem.  So we hopped in Bleu and drove up the canyon. It was incredible.  I love the simple complexities of the sky, the grandness of it while being such a small little something on this planet.  I love looking up and seeing beyond the trees, mountains, and haze ... to a sky that is endless and beyond my own lifetime.  I've got a brother that is a genius about all of the things in the Heavens and I appreciate that. But, to be completely frank, I love just looking up and seeing the Man on the Moon in red and the stars, maybe some are planets, in all of their glory.  They are near enough to be bright in my life and far enough to provide wonder and complete amazement.  It was worth the drive in the middle of the night to feel that awe and inspiration.

My parents seek adventure in their own way, rarely was it grand or costly.   But we'd hop in the car in the middle of the night to surprise Uncle in Indiana or pack up Christmas Eve to surprise Grams at the house on the Lake, only after taking care to leave a note for Santa as Buba was CERTAIN the Big Guy would not find us at Grams with such late notice.  I remember (and with this memory that is a FEAT!) several occasions where we would be 'going swimming' only to find our bags packed for a weekend away.  There were many a Saturdays that started with chores but ended on roller-coasters at Great America.  And I will never forget that sunrise with Papa, not on the calendar but forever in my mind as my favorite morning of all time.

Papa drove a little green Geo, two doors.  It smelled of tools and pastries, that may sound odd to some of you but if I close my eyes tight enough I can smell it still.  Before the days of booster seats and laws forbidding children to sit in the front seat before 110 lbs (I have no idea what the actual law is but every time I'm in California Cowboy reminds me he is big enough or at the very least his mom has ignored the law enough that I won't be the first adult to risk his life in the front seat) I sat in the front with Papa in that little car.  The Church building was 37 minutes away, I know this because leaving for 9am church was never an easy task for Mom when Papa was called to worship with the Navy men at a different building and frequently the screams from the top of the stairs was simply, "We have 37 min to get to church!" and we'd make it in time for opening prayer.  I've digressed.  The building was 37 minutes away and we would often go to watch the young men play basketball.  I don't know if that's still something that we would do but Papa would make that drive, sometimes to ref the game and sometimes just to give the ref a hard time (the only 'bad' story we ever have to tell about Papa but I'll get to that another time).  But I remember Saturday mornings, either driving to the ball game or going to pick up donuts or picking up donuts on the way to the ballgame, Papa would have WGN radio on.  Sometimes we heard 'The Rest of the Story" with Paul Harvey and sometimes it was the Cubs game.  I couldn't tell you more than that regarding what was said by those radio personalities.

But I can tell you the sound of that radio tuned in to the AM frequency.  There was always a slight whistle behind the voices, always male voices.  And behind that whistle it sounded as if there was an empty arena where the voices would bounce off of every corner before it reached that green Geo we were driving in.  It wasn't an annoyance, it was something of substance.  It was something steady.  And so no matter where we were driving to it was of no importance ... because that car ride, sitting shot-gun with Papa, that was the steady part of it all.  He would chime in with his own wisdom often but I can't tell you what gem he offered. I can tell you that smell is still inside of me and my heart slows to a steady beat when I tune into an AM frequency now.

What I'm getting at ... My life is not that of my parents 20 years ago.  But because of the life they gave me, full of frugal adventure and AM radio stations, I love my life.  I have my moments, we all do, but the Lunar Eclipse from the canyon with the water rushing and the wind blowing completes my Monday.  And NPR or ESPN 700 can bring my blood pressure back down to a scary-low-level (thanks for that Gramps! that and the lack of a bum!) after I get word of an injustice done in the world.  It's Nat's voice ringing in my ear that makes me smile.  It's that slight whistle behind the sound of those deep bass voices that reminds me that this is my story but filled with the nuances of Jeff and Marcia, Bill and Phyllis, Max and Charma, Bill and Monica, Matt and Laurel, Mike and Robin ect.

So as I sit here at 240 in the morning, with Paper Moon playing, I smile.  Because life is good.  It's winks, whistles, and Paper Moon good.