It was the summer of 1965 when my parents changed our family’s lives with a move from southern California to the Midwest. They had sold most of their possessions and managed to load a few things into Daddy’s 1963 beige Ford pickup. The trunk of Mama’s 1959 Ford Fairlane was loaded down with suitcases for our family of six (the two of them and four young daughters ages 12, 9, 5, and 1) with room to add a couple more bags. I was the nine-year-old daughter.
But this story is not so much about us as one who helped us make this move. We left our small town on a sunny mid-afternoon day and drove south an hour or two closer to the big city of Los Angeles. One of my mother’s older sisters, Aunt Delta who lived in southern Missouri, was at her son’s home in Los Angeles. He was married to a beautiful woman and they had younger daughters.
I’m not really sure why Aunt Delta was visiting, but I do remember that Benton was considering moving his family “back home” as well and that he and Aunt Delta were making this road trip to the Midwest with us. I must remind you all that Aunt Delta was old enough to be my grandmother and cousin Benton was old enough to be my dad, a young dad. Benton and his wife, Barbara, greeted us warmly when we arrived. Since it was suppertime, Barbara had prepared dinner for everyone, hamburgers. I don’t remember if they were grilled outside or fried indoors on the stove, but I do remember they were delicious and that she was a gracious hostess, even asking us sisters what we liked on our burgers. I was most fascinated that she warmed the buns in a brown paper sack in the oven. My mother learned this new method and brought it with us to the Midwest.
We set out for a two-day trip with Daddy and Benton in his pickup and mother, Aunt Delta, and three of us girls in Mama’s car. Older sister Vickie was allowed to ride with Daddy and Benton sitting on the bench seat between the two of them. I was a little jealous. I remember the next evening everyone needed sleep but it was difficult to find a motel with a vacancy on Route 66. So we kept driving. Finally, well after dark, Daddy found one with two rooms. I was most excited the next morning when Daddy announced that I could ride in the pickup with him and Benton. I hopped in the middle. Benton patted me on the shoulder and said, “Debbie do you like baseball?” Well, of course I did, even at nine years old. So I started talking about our beloved team, the Dodgers – Don Drysdale, Sandy Koufax – we had common ground. He made the long drive fun.
After both families were moved and settled, we saw Benton and his family from time to time at family gatherings. I remember one time sitting in the backseat of the old Fairlane with Mama driving and Grandpa in the passenger front seat on our way to see more family. They were talking about how smart Benton was, kind and handsome too. I listened and agreed. Two or three years passed and one sunny weekend several of us gathered at Aunt Delta’s home. The men were in the family room watching a baseball game (Dodgers vs Cardinals); the women were in the kitchen. I came in from playing outside and strolled into the family room to watch the game. Obviously they had been discussing the two teams and which one was better. When Benton saw me head that direction, he said, “Thank goodness. Here comes my ally. Debbie, I need your help. These guys all want the Cardinals to win.”
Well, I had been won over at some point, and reluctantly gulped, “Ugh, I like the Cardinals now.” Everyone laughed and Benton wailed, “Oh no. She was my last hope!”
We all grew older, I moved away and only saw Benton on rare occasions at annual family reunions. He was the same kind gentleman every time I saw him throughout the years. He asked about my life and if I still followed baseball. His daughters grew up and had families of their own. Such is the circle of life. He had a full life with his wife, three daughters, grandchildren, and great grandchildren. He passed away three years ago at the age of 84, five months after my mother passed away at the age of 86. I am thankful for rich family memories and again acknowledge how fleeting life is. In a blink, it’s over. May we remember to take time for family and friends, but especially family, and make each day count as best we can. And may we remember that those who have died in Christ, shall rise again. Our spirits will be reunited in heaven or we will meet them in the air. Thank God for this blessed hope.
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