What an absolutely wonderful day and afternoon!
Between the time my flight from DFW to DSM arrived, breakfast at Perkins, and Mike's doctor's appointment to remove the stitches from his nose surgery, we had time to kill.
We decided to take a trip down "Memory Lane," back to the small town where both our families had lived almost 50 years before. We took off down Interstate 35, from Des Moines, and exited at 'Bevington/Indianola" exit.
First, we went toward where Mike's family had lived. Our first detour was to the home of old friends, Jack and Marguerite Gray. We had disagreed on where they had lived. They no longer owned the home, in fact, Jack had passed away many years earlier and Marguerite lived in Indianola. Even though I had never been to their house, I thought I knew which one it was. Mike was right - I was wrong. As we drove into the driveway of the old house - I spotted a statue of the Virgin Mary and knew Mike was right, this had been their home - they were devout Catholics.
We drove by the old Bellile house, and "going home" is always difficult because things never look the same.
We continued on our journey, turning down the road where we had once lived - passing the home of Chuck and Wilma Seymour who also no longer lived there.
As we got to the home of our old "next door - down the road" neighbors I begged Mike to turn into the driveway. It was noon and we knew we shouldn't stop .....but we did anyway.
I went up to the door and knocked.
The lady came to the door and I asked, "Do the Hayes still live here?"
She smiled and said, "Yes, we're the Hayes."
I said, "I'm Sarah Gorrell, we once lived down the road from you," with absolutely no idea if she would remember me.
Suddenly, there was laughter, hugs, and smiles.
I'm going to interrupt my story with an explanation....
On August 10th, 1969 our family of three (our youngest daughter, Robbie, wasn't born, at that time) moved to Martensdale, Iowa. My city-born hubby had decided that he wanted to raise hogs....yes, hogs! Even though I was a country girl, I had never helped on the farm. Suddenly, I was cast as the "farmer's wife" and I was expected to do all the things a farmer's wife does. It just didn't work! Lonnie, the teenage son of the Hayes, became Bob's helper. It worked much better because on the days hogs were to be loaded for the market - Lonnie didn't pray for rain or snow like the farmer's wife did! (And sometimes God heard my prayers!)
The Hayes family consisted of Darrell, the father who had worked for the Iowa Fish and Game Commission. Injured in an accident while on duty, he was wheelchair bound, but with the best sense of humor, I had ever witnessed in a Paraplegic. Karen, their mother, worked in Des Moines at Meredith Publishing (too bad I wasn't writing books, back then!). Lori, the oldest daughter, became a babysitter for Gale and Robbie, and Karla, the youngest was just three years younger than Gale and three years older than Robbie.
In 1977, not long after Lonnie's 18th birthday - soon to graduate from high school, he was killed in an automobile accident. I realized that this young man, taken much too soon, would have been 60 years old, now. He would probably have children and grandchildren. My memories took me back to the horrors of hearing the devastating news, all those years ago.
We talked about people we had all once known - many now gone. Darrell still had the same great personality. Karen now retired was a mother, grandmother, great-grandmother. We didn't get to see Lori, and it was unbelievable that this tall, beautiful woman standing before me - with her father's smile - was Karla. She showed the picture of her sons - both tall and good-looking.
So much conversation, so many names, crammed into a few short minutes. (We couldn't miss the appointment to get the stitches out!) We had reconnected with friends from over 40 years before.
I agreed that when RAGBRAI went through the area, the end of July, while I was to be Mike's "support" - I would stop by for another visit.
I was so glad we had turned in this driveway while touring down Memory Lane. Making contact with old friends warms the heart and helps to flip through some of the worn pages in the Memory Book, in one's mind.
