As I walked by her open bedroom door, the TV was on and I could see all the pieces of paper on mom’s bed. I couldn’t quite see her, but I knew she was in there, sitting cross-legged at the head of her bed, trying to pay the bills. It was a thing she had to do each month, but it usually made her worried or even sad. Usually there wasn’t enough money to pay them all, but hopefully all the most important ones.

“Hey coolie”, I heard her say, hearing me out in the hall I guess, “Come in and sit with me while I pay the bills, okay?”

I never really wanted to do that, but I also didn’t want her to get all sad again, and usually when I was in the room with her and she could talk to me about stuff, she felt better.

I peeked in her room so she could see me. “Not BILLS again!” I said, which I really felt, but I also thought would make her laugh. Kind of neat to say something that was both true and funny at the same time, and mom always liked it when you just said what you were really feeling. But boys and men didn’t usually do that, though it did feel good when I did.

“Yeah”, she said, puffing her cheeks and blowing air out of her mouth, “The goddamn bills again.” Mom didn’t swear A LOT, like some older boys in the park, but she did like to swear sometimes, when it helped you know how she was feeling. She always seemed to feel a little better after she did, though she hardly swore at all when David was around. I guess she didn’t think he was old enough yet to hear it, though she thought I was, and I liked that she thought that.

She motioned for me to sit in the rocking chair, next to the little dresser at the foot of her bed with our little TV on it, showing that Hollywood Squares game show, but with the sound turned down kind of low so you could just hear it. So I did, getting ready for whatever the latest bad news about bills she couldn’t pay, or needing to get the car fixed, or other stuff like that.

I guess she knew what I was thinking because she shook her head quickly and said, “Nothing bad today, sweetie. I’m not going to pay Fiegel’s until next month, but what else is new.” She laughed through her nose and then did her big toothy smile.

“We leave on Saturday for the Cape”, she said, “I hope you and your brother are as excited as I am.” I nodded. David and I both were. He and I had talked about how we were going to arrange the back of the car with the little mattresses from the rollaway beds along with blankets and pillows like we did for our Cape Cod trip last year.

“How did lunch go with your dad yesterday?” she asked. I noticed she didn’t say “your father” like she usually did these days.

“It was good”, I said, “Though he said he’d really miss us, and I think he was sad about not going too.”

“Yes, I bet”, she said, “Did he tell you that?” I shook my head and she then nodded with her lips pushed together and then looked up at the ceiling.

“He loves you guys and he’s always been a good dad to you two”, she said, now looking at me kind of fiercely, “We didn’t get divorced because he wasn’t a good dad, it’s just unresolvable issues between him and me. I hope you and David understand that, and it’s very important that you continue to have your relationship with him. Important for him AND for you guys.” I nodded, though I didn’t like that she was trying to tell me to have a relationship with him, like I wasn’t already, so I said more.

“I played a song for him on the jukebox at the Food and Drug that I told him that I thought he would like”, I said, “It’s called ‘Cherish’ and it’s by this band called the Association, and they do lots of singing together and harmonies like dad likes. And he said he liked it a lot and it reminded him of singing songs in college with his buddies.” I remembered that that song had also made him sad, because it was about being in love with somebody who wasn’t in love with you back, which maybe reminded him about mom, but I didn’t tell her about THAT.

“Good for you”, she said, smiling and nodding her head, “I’m glad to hear that.”

“Well”, she said, no longer smiling, “It’ll just be you, me and David this year, obviously, going to the Cape, and that means I’ll have to do all the driving, unless you’ve suddenly turned sixteen and got your drivers license.” I thought about that, in five years I could drive cars like grownups and older kids like Margie, and Arthur’s older sister.

She sighed and said, “When I shared the driving with your dad, we took turns to give the other a break, and we talked about stuff to pass the time, especially on that godawful boring…”

“401”, I said, before she could. She pushed her lips together, closed her eyes and nodded slowly.

“So”, she said, opening up her eyes and looking at me kind of fiercely, “If I’m going to do all the driving myself, then we’re definitely going to take two days to get there, and we’re not leaving at five in the goddamn morning. I’ll need a good night’s sleep before I have to drive all day.” I nodded. That all made sense.

She held her finger up and said, “AND, I’m going to need one of you in the front seat with me AT ALL TIMES. I know you and David had a grand time at your little backseat blanket and pillow party last time, but that’s not going to work this time. I’ll need you in the front seat next to me talking about stuff, kind of entertaining me, helping with navigation, tuning the radio stations looking for music or some news. Otherwise I’ll get too bored and will be in danger of nodding off. Maybe you guys can even sing for me.”

“Well”, I said, “I don’t know about that!”

“I LOVE hearing you and David sing”, she said, “What’s that new Beatles song you two sang for me the other day?”

“Nowhere Man?” I asked. She nodded and smiled.

“Any and every Beatles or Motown or other song you guys know, maybe even that one you played for your dad, I’d love to hear it”, she said, making a big smile, “You don’t know how nice it is for a parent to hear her kids sing. Especially one like me who can’t really carry a tune. You don’t want to hear ME try to sing!” I laughed, she was really funny sometimes, and what she said made sense too.

“And once we get there, to the Cape”, she said, “I’m going to need a lot of time to just be by myself, swim, get some sun, read some good books, even just stare at the ocean.”

She thought about all that for a minute and said, “Every morning I’ll go to the beach for a swim. Well maybe not the first morning, I’ll need to recover from the drive. You guys can come too if you like, or stay home if you’d rather. But if you come with, I’ll help you practice your swimming and body surfing. We can walk the beach and look for shells and sand dollars.”

“The rest of the day you two will be on your own”, she said, “ We’ll have cereal and milk for breakfast and sandwich stuff for lunch. Dinner, we’ll improvise something simple. Maybe Roberts Spaghetti, maybe more sandwiches, maybe a pizza if I can find a good place that will deliver. I’d love to dig for clams and boil them up. And then a couple times we can go into P-town to a restaurant for dinner and just walk around the town.”

“The woman that owns the place”, she said, “Told me we have a nice big backyard, and she has three cats, in case you miss Middie. Which reminds me, your father said he would check in on Midnight while we’re gone, make sure he has water and dry food. And she said the cottage has a record player, so you can bring all your favorite records and some good books to read.”

“James Bond”, I said. I knew I was teasing her because she didn’t like James Bond, but those were the books I was reading this summer.

She closed her eyes and shook her head slowly. “Womanizing James Bond or whatever you want”, she said, “Your time is your time!”

“Okay”, I said, “But are we going to go to Niagara Falls?”

She nodded and said, “Yes. I worked that all out, have a new Triptik and a reservation at a motel in Niagara Falls.” She made a big smile.

***

“I can’t wait for you to hear it”, Mike said as we opened the front screen door and walked into our house, “I’m sure you heard it before back in the spring but just don’t remember.”

We had gone on our bikes to Discount Records and just come back with the forty-five he had bought. Mike and I had also looked at the latest issue of Crawdaddy. Bob Dylan was on the cover and there was a big article about him that we had both read together in the store. It was about his big song, “Like a Rolling Stone” from last year, and how he was no longer just a folk singer and was into rock and roll. It said, “He is simply an artist able to create in the medium that for him is most free.”

Mike had found the forty-five that Arthur had played for him that he liked so much. It had been a hit on the radio and on all the jukebox machines earlier in the year. Arthur was still into all the British bands, like the Beatles, the Stones, the Kinks, and now this new band, the Yardbirds.

There were piles of clothes, art supplies, boxes and cans of food from the kitchen on all the three tables in the different parts of the living room. Midnight was up on top of the pie cabinet next to the round table, snoozing, but his eyes opened a little bit to see who we were and then closed again. He was now staying outside all night and then sleeping during the day, usually in the basement when it was really hot and sticky out, or up on the top of the pie cabinet when there was a nice breeze going through the house like today, because mom always kept all the windows open.

“So you guys are getting ready to go to Cape Cod”, he said, “When do you leave?”

“Tomorrow”, I said.

“Who’s taking care of Midnight while you’re gone?” he asked. Mike always wondered about stuff like that.

“My dad is”, I said. Mike was the only one of my friends I ever talked to about my dad, because he was the only one that knew that mom and dad were divorced.

“Wow”, Mike said, then looking at me, pointing his finger at the stairs and saying, “Shall we?” I nodded and Mike took two steps at a time up the stairs as I ran behind him up into David’s and my bedroom. David wasn’t around, so Mike kind of jumped up on David’s bed, turning his body so his butt hit the mattress with a crunch. Then he handed me the record.

“I can’t wait to hear it again”, he said, his face all orange hair, green eyes and freckles. I put that black plastic cylinder thing over the record player spindle so it could play forty-fives. The record player somehow knew where to put the needle for the beginning of a forty-five rather than an album. The song started with that “der der der der” part on the guitar and then the words…

Shapes
Of things before my eyes
Just teach me to despise
Will time make men more wise?

I remembered the song now. I had liked it a lot too. It felt like a kind of a sing along marching song, except it wasn’t about war, it was about peace and taking care of the world and trying to be better…

Here
Within my lonely frame
My eyes just heard my brain
But will it seem the same?

“I’ve never been able to figure out that second verse”, Mike said, shaking his head, “Is it ‘hurt my brain’ or ‘heard my brain’? Who knows!” And as the chorus played Mike sang along and looked at me…

(Come tomorrow) Will I be older?
(Come tomorrow) Maybe a soldier
(Come tomorrow) May I be bolder than today?

“I LOVE that last line!” he said, “You should always be bolder the next time, you know what I mean? If you didn’t do the right thing this time, well remember and do it right the next time!” I nodded.

“We’re not kids anymore”, I said, the words he had said to me before that I was really thinking about a lot, “Right?” He nodded.

“Yeah, exactly”, he said.

As the song continued I thought about what Mike said. I was usually shy, or even kind of afraid to do some things I thought I should do, that I felt would be right to do. Maybe the next time I would be less shy, less afraid, to do the right thing.

Now
The trees are almost green
But will they still be seen?
When time and tide have been

I liked the way the song started each verse with a single short word…

Fall
Into your passing hands
Please don’t destroy these lands
Don’t make them desert sands

I wondered about who was destroying things and I figured it had to be some of the grownups…

(Come tomorrow) Will I be older?
(Come tomorrow) May be a soldier
(Come tomorrow) May I be bolder than today?

Then there was this guitar solo part, without any words, that sounded all strange and fuzzy like nothing I’d heard before, not the usual “der der der” stuff.

“That’s Jeff Beck doing the guitar solo”, Mike said, “I read about him in Crawdaddy. He invented this special way to do feedback on his electric guitar to make it sound kind of fuzzy and screechy, and he also pulls on the strings to change the pitch.”

And then the last verse…

Soon
I hope that I will find
Thoughts deep within my mind
That won’t disgrace my kind

There were two more quick fuzzy “wah wah wah”s from the guitar and it was done.

“It’s such an interesting song”, Mike said, “And it ends, BOOM, just like that, not a regular song ending.”

The problem with a lot of these songs sometimes was figuring out all the words. Sometimes I’d listen to a song a bunch of times and there would still be some words I couldn’t figure out, maybe I’d just have to make up my own to fit in those parts. In this song most of the words were pretty easy to figure out, but I was still struggling with the last line.

“What was that last line?” I asked Mike.

He looked at me and his eyes twinkled, like the words were really important to know, and said, “Soon… I hope that I will find… thoughts deep inside my mind… that won’t disgrace my kind.”

I repeated those last three words, “Disgrace my kind”, but had trouble figuring out the “kind” part. I didn’t want him to think that I was still a stupid little kid so I didn’t ask him, but luckily, he answered my question anyway.

“You know”, he said, “Disgrace my comrades… my g-g-g-generation.” That last part I knew he was referring to that Who song where the guy singing stuttered like he was a nervous kid.

“Oh yeah”, I said nodding, “Talkin’ ‘bout OUR generation.”

“Exactly”, he said, his eyes twinkling again. I liked it when his eyes twinkled, he just seemed so happy, in a fierce kind of way!

***

That evening, David and I helped mom finish packing all the suitcases with clothes, way more than last time because we were staying three weeks this time. There was mom’s little traincase full of all the bathroom stuff, like soap, shampoo, toothbrushes, toothpaste and medicines. Also all this other stuff that mom used, like lotion, baby oil, shaving cream, a razor, and these tube things called “tampons” that I had no idea what they were for. There was also the big wood box with mom’s art supplies, plus her big sketch pads.

Then there were a bunch of those brown paper grocery bags filled with stuff. Two with pretty much all of David and my records, the music ones and the comedy ones, plus the music satire ones by Alan Sherman and Tom Lehrer. Another bag with regular books and comic books, ones David and I wanted to be able to look at or read, like a bunch of James Bond books for me. Plus books mom wanted to read, like the “Feminine Mystique”, “Valley of the Dolls” and “An American Dream”. There were three bags full of food to eat while we were there – Cheerios, mom’s new favorite Kellogg’s Concentrate cereal, bread, peanut butter, apples, cans of fruit and vegetables, pancake mix, pretzels, potato chips, spaghetti and macaroni noodles, big cans of grapefruit and tomato juice that mom liked to drink, plus powdered koolaid for us.

Even though she wanted one of us in the front seat with her at all times, David and I still wanted to set up the back of the car like our last trip to Cape Cod, with the back seats down and the rollaway mattresses put on top of them with blankets and pillows for our “cozy compartment”. David and I tried setting it up that way, but it turned out we were just bringing too much stuff this time to cram it all in the corners plus that small area behind the front seat like we did last time. So instead, we had to leave the regular back seat up and just the wayback seat down, and fill the wayback part with suitcases, boxes and bags. Still that back part of the car got so full that mom couldn’t see out the back window from the rearview mirror in front, so we had to move a suitcase and some of the bags to the other half of the backseat.

Set up THAT way, mom said it didn’t make sense to bring all the blankets and pillows. “We’re just going to be driving during the day, so neither of you will really need to sleep”, mom said.

“But the blankets and pillows are FUN”, David said, making a pretend really mad face. Mom laughed through her nose and nodded.

“What about ONE blanket and ONE pillow”, I said, and then added, “For old time’s sake.” I had never said that before, but I had heard grownups say it, and it seemed it was a good argument right now.

Mom laughed through her nose again and then said, “Okay. ONE blanket and ONE pillow, for old time’s sake.” I liked that what I said might have won the argument.

***

My clock radio went off at 7:00. It was the news on CKLW, and they were talking about John Lennon apologizing for saying that the Beatles were more popular than Jesus…

News anchor’s voice: And at the press conference, Lennon apologized.

Lennon’s voice: I suppose if I had said television was more popular than Jesus, I would have got away with it. I’m sorry I opened my mouth. I’m not anti-God, anti-Christ, or anti-religion. I was not knocking it. I was not saying we are greater or better.

News anchor’s voice: When asked about his own belief, Lennon quoted the Bishop of Woolwich…

Lennon’s voice: Not as an old man in the sky. I believe that what people call God is something in all of us. If you want me to apologize, if that will make you happy, then OK, I’m sorry.

As I turned off the radio and got out of bed, I thought about those words in the last verse of that “Shapes of Things” song that Mike had bought and really wanted me to hear yesterday…

Soon
I hope that I will find
Thoughts deep within my mind
That won’t disgrace my kind

John Lennon wasn’t trying to say that the Beatles were BETTER than Jesus, just that more people talked about them than Jesus. He was even sorry that the grownups thought he thought the Beatles were better. I wondered if Mike would have apologized. I wouldn’t have. None of the kids I knew or even most of the grownups talked about Jesus either, but we talked about the Beatles a lot. Even some grownups did. They didn’t always LIKE them, but they TALKED about them.

I got up, put my clothes on and went downstairs. Mom was in the kitchen packing our little cooler with cold cans of Tab from the refrigerator and a couple Seven-Ups for me and David. David was eating a bowl of Cheerios.

“I helped mom finish packing the car”, he said, “And she said I can look at the map in the backseat.” I was surprised when he said that, because that had always been MY job, so I looked at mom.

She nodded and said, “I said David can look at the map because I need you in the front seat looking at the Triptik.” I remembered that dad had looked at the Triptik last time and told mom where we were and how soon we had to change to another road. That was a more important job than just looking at the map, though I always really liked looking at maps.

Usually I would just nod and not say anything. I had been doing that as far back as I could remember, since I was a little kid. But as Mike had said the other day, we weren’t little kids anymore, we weren’t even children anymore.

So, “Cool”, I said, finally smiling and nodding my head. I quickly fixed myself a bowl of Cheerios too and ate them.

“It’s a little bit different this time”, she said, “Because it takes us up 401 farther north to Brantford, and then across to Hamilton on several different highways to the Queen Elizabeth Way which will take us to Niagara Falls where we’ll spend the night tonight. Then tomorrow morning we continue on QEW down to Fort Erie and across the Peace Bridge and back on our same route as last year.”

“So we get to see Niagara Falls?” David asked.

“Yep”, said mom, “This afternoon, after we check into our motel room.” She held up a piece of paper. “The Auto Club said it should be about five or six hours of driving to get there today, so we should have the rest of the afternoon and the evening if we need it to go see the Falls. Then tomorrow we have… or I HAVE… a longer day of maybe nine or 10 hours of driving to get to the Cape. But we’ll take our time, stop for lunch and dinner and any bathroom breaks and get there when we get there.”

“Good”, said David, nodding, “I’ve always wanted to see Niagara Falls.” Mom laughed, not just through her nose but a regular one.

“I’m sorry, sweetie”, she said touching David’s shoulder with her hand, “You just sound so grown up all of a sudden.” I remembered when she used to say that kind of stuff about me. Maybe Davied didn’t SOUND like a little kid all the time anymore, but I REALLY WASN’T a little kid anymore. I wanted to make sure that David knew that he and I were different that way.

***

So we were on the super boring 401 freeway going across all the clear terrain of Ontario near London, the Canadaian city I guess named after the real London in England. Mom would close and open her eyes and also yawn sometimes.

“So, Coolie”, mom said, “I’m getting bored listening to the radio. I enjoy J.P. McCarthy for maybe a half hour or an hour tops, but then he starts to put me to sleep, particularly on this mind numbingly boring highway. And I appreciate you trying that other station that you like, uh…”

“CKLW”, I said.

“Yeah”, she said, “That one. I know they have music you kids like, but most of it doesn’t do anything for me, and I feel like such an old lady, but it’s jazz and big bands that get me going.” I nodded, but knew what was probably next. We’d been driving for a couple hours, now by all those farms that looked the same across Ontario in Canada.

“So what should we talk about?” she asked. David was reading a Batman comic book in the backseat.

“I don’t know”, I said. I wasn’t used to thinking up things to talk to mom about. When she asked me to come into her room at home and sit in the rocking chair, she usually talked to ME about stuff SHE wanted to talk about, not the other way around.

“Well”, she said, “How’s your summer been? Compared to last summer?”

“Better”, I said, though I knew she’d want me to say more.

“Why’s that?” she asked. I think she already knew what I was going to say, but she wanted me to say it so she could listen to me talk.

“Because I didn’t break my collarbone, so I got to play baseball all summer”, I said, “Little League and pickup games.”

“When I was a kid it was only pickup games”, she said, “They didn’t even have Little League even for BOYS back then. They still don’t let girls play, right?”

“Nope!” I said.

“I don’t think that’s fair”, she said fiercely, “If a girl can hit and run and catch and throw, why shouldn’t she be able to play. It’s not like it’s a contact sport like football. Right? What do you think?”

What did I think? Mike probably wouldn’t think it was fair, so maybe I didn’t either.

“Yeah”, I said, “It’s not fair. It’s just that girls and boys my age don’t usually play together or even talk to each other.”

“Why do you think that is?” she asked.

“I don’t know”, I said.

“Well”, she said, “If you had to make a guess what would you say? You’re a smart kid, you usually have good ideas about things.”

I didn’t like it when she said stuff like that, like I had to come up with a good answer or maybe I wasn’t really smart anymore. Out of the corner of my eye I saw David behind us put down his Batman comic book because he wanted to hear my answer.

“I don’t know”, I said again, but I knew she’d make me say more, “Boys just think it’s bad to talk to girls, like you’ll get all weird and stuff.”

“Like you’ll get cooties and even be a sissy?” she asked. I couldn’t believe she said “sissy”.

“Kind of”, I said, “Yeah, I guess, maybe.” I REALLY did not want to talk about this with her, but I knew I had to keep talking about SOMETHING, but it had to be something else.

“So I thought I did really good in Little League baseball this summer”, I said,

“Well good for you”, she said, “I know you missed practically the whole season last year, so I bet it feels good not to lose your skills and your edge.”

“My edge? I asked, I knew what skills were.

“Yeah”, she said, still looking out at the road ahead, “Your ability to play consistently well and make the big play when needed, and get the clutch hit. Does that make sense?” I nodded.

“You never want your father or me to watch you play”, she said, “I mean I respect that, but I’m curious why.” Well that was a tough question too, but it was better than talking about being a sissy.

“Well…”, I said, using that word that grownups used so much to give me time to think. I thought about what Mike might say.

“I just like to have fun playing baseball”, I said, “Even Little League. I don’t like people watching me because then it feels more like it’s just about trying to win.”

“Okay”, she said, “I get that. But isn’t trying to win just part of the fun? It is for me when I play tennis. You know, trying to make good shots. Trying to play my best.”

“Maybe”, I said, “I DO always want to play my best, but if someone’s watching me then I worry about it more. I just want to be thinking about the game, hitting or fielding, and not worry about people watching me and what they think about me.”

“Hmm”, she said, nodding slowly as she looked out ahead, “That makes sense. I guess I’m more competitive than you are.”

“What’s competitive mean?” David asked from the backseat.

“It means you really want to win, sweetie”, she said, leaning her head back and turning it to look at him for just a second, “And you look for everything you can do to help you win.”

“Even bad stuff?” David asked. That was a good question but I would have never asked mom that. Mom sighed.

“Well”, she said, “Hopefully not bad stuff like cheating or being nasty.” After that, I wasn’t sure what to say next, so we were all quiet for the moment.

“I’m afraid when it comes to MY sport, tennis”, she said sighing, “I’ve pretty much lost MY competitive edge. I can’t make the shots I used to be able to make.” She shook her head slowly as she looked out at the road. She glanced at me and said, “It’s sad!”

It WAS sad. I had never thought of grownups not being able to do things as well as they used to. I was used to them thinking they could always do everything perfect.

“Sometimes”, she said, sounding sad all of a sudden, “I feel like I’ve made a mess of my life, except of course for having you two. You and your brother are my big win, my championship.”

That was REALLY sad, thinking you made a mess of your life. I had never heard anyone tell me anything like that. She sighed again and I could see tears in her eye and one running down her cheek.

“Sweetie”, she said to me, “Can you open the glove compartment and get me a kleenex?” I did and she said thanks, scrunching it up and touching her eyes with it.

We stopped to get gas at that same giant gas station place we’d stopped at last year when we drove to Cape Cod, but this time we got lunch at this “diner” place. I ordered a grilled cheese sandwich so David got one too, and mom ordered tuna salad. Then she said she had to go to the bathroom and she was gone a long time before she came back, so long that I was starting to worry, like what would I do if she didn’t come back. But finally she did.

“I’m sorry guys”, she said, puffing her cheeks and blowing air out of her month, “It’s just my time of the month, but I’m fine now.” I heard her talk about her “time of the month” before with other women and had also called it “the curse”, but it didn’t sound like something they would want to talk about with kids or even grownup men.

***

This time, we continued to drive up 401, past where we turned off last year, to this city called Woodstock. David even took a turn in the front seat, though I still was the one looking at the Triptik and telling mom where and when to turn. It said we should get on this smaller two-lane Highway 2 that went to this town called Paris, and I messed up telling mom where to turn on to Highway 5. I thought she’d get mad at me, but she laughed instead and said that it was okay, and found a gas station where she went inside to ask directions. We got back to the 5 which took us to the 99, and we got to Hamilton and turned on to Highway 8 which took us on to this other freeway, 403, which took us to the “QEW”, the Queen Elizabeth Way, which would take us to Niagara Falls.

Mom said Queen Elizabeth was the queen of England, which I already knew, but she said she was also the queen of a bunch of other countries like Scotland, Wales, Australia, New Zealand AND Canada. She said that unlike in the old days, with the original Queen Elizabeth, the current Queen was just a “figurehead”, and Canada, England and those other countries were governed by a prime minister and parliament, just like our country was governed by a president and congress.

The part of QEW we were driving on was really neat because it was up high like a very long bridge. They called the road a “skyway”, which was a really neat name. But there was still an actual bridge part that the ships went underneath. To the left of the skyway was Lake Ontario, which went off as far as you could see, like the Atlantic Ocean or Lake Michigan. And on the right was a smaller body of water that the Triptik said was Hamilton Harbor. Later on we even went over the beginning part of the Welland Canal, and since I was the one looking at the Triptik, I got to tell it to mom and David.

Finally we got to Niagara Falls and the Triptik even had a page to get from QEW right to our motel, which was also pretty neat. Our room was at the Park Lane Motel, which had a little sign on its big sign in front that said “FREE TV IN EVERY ROOM”. I wondered what a TV that wasn’t free would be like, if you had to put coins in it like a jukebox. We stopped by the office part and we went in with mom because we were all sick of sitting in the car. The guy behind the desk, the “desk clerk”, gave mom a key to our room. We got back in the car and drove it right in front of the door to our room, and took our suitcases, bags of food and cooler inside.

***

It was the next morning and we got back on QEW to take it to the “end of the line” at Fort Erie, and cross over the Peace Bridge to get to the New York State Thruway like we did last year. Yesterday afternoon we’d gone to see the Falls and got to see them from up high above them, but also through a tunnel so we could see behind them, which was REALLY neat. I had never seen anything so powerful, with so much energy. In the tunnel, that close to the water crashing down from above, the energy of it was even scary, when I realized that there were things in the world way more powerful than people were, even grownups. And my imagination kept feeling like I was being pulled into it.

As we crossed the Peace Bridge over the Niagara River, I remembered crossing it last year, but I could also see the railroad track bridge where we crossed it when I was just a little kid, the first time we went to visit my grandparents in Binghamton. That was still the best time, because it was a train and it was nighttime and it was winter too, and I remembered looking through the window of our cozy sleeping compartment and seeing the little icebergs in the river below. The train was cozier than the car because all of us could just be under the covers in the sleeping compartment. In the car, even when we turned the back seats INTO a kind of sleeping compartment, still mom or dad in the front seats had to drive, which didn’t feel quite as cozy.

Mom said that driving today, though longer, should be less boring because, “The Thruway goes through much nicer landscape in Upstate New York than 401 through Southern Ontario.” From playing all my wargames on those mapboards with “squares”, actually hexagons really, with all the different terrain, specially in Battle of the Bulge and Waterloo like roads, rivers, rough terrain, woods and cities, I was seeing the terrain we were driving through like it was squares on a mapboard. We were following the road, the Thruway, through a bunch of squares that were mostly clear terrain, but also some woods and cities. And alongside us at times, were river squares of the Mohawk River which we even crossed sometimes, and I imagined how the road and river would look on the mapboard.

While she drove I searched for stations on the radio playing songs that mom liked, or ones that David and I liked that we wanted her to hear. I found stations playing Frank Sinatra songs, “Strangers in the Night” and “The Summer Wind”. Tom Jones songs, “It’s Not Unusual” and “What’s New Pussycat”. Tony Bennett songs, “Fly Me to the Moon” and “The Shadow of Your Smile”. And even Ella Fitzgerald singing a Beatles’ song, “Hard Days Night”, though David and I didn’t think it was very good the way she sang it. And of course we found songs David and I liked by the Beatles, the Supremes, the Beach Boys, the Association, the Rolling Stones, and the Temptations.

One radio station we’d been listening to, even played that “Hanky Panky” song by Tommy James and the Shondells. Mom said she LIKED that one, though I was embarrassed and didn’t want to talk about it or ask her why she liked it.

After we’d listened to a bunch of songs, ones she liked and ones we liked, she said, “You know, I’m not one of those old fogies who thinks all the rock and roll and Motown music that you guys listen to is just noise or a bunch of crap. There are some of your songs that I like. I just grew up on music that was different, had that BEAT, that SWING, that just made you want to get up and dance. I grew up listening to songs with sexy saxophones, not wailing electric guitars.”

“A lot of the Motown songs have saxophones”, I said, trying to stand up for my generation’s music.

“They do, you’re right”, she said, nodding as she drove, “It was just all different back then. When WE danced, we held each other and moved around the dance floor together as partners. Now I see the older kids just dancing by themselves, doing the Twist or the Watusi or whatever, yeah maybe across from their partner, but doing their own thing. For me, REAL dancing is hand in hand, arm around his waist, lots of energy, ‘cutting a rug’ as they used to say, and doing it TOGETHER.” She swayed the top part of her body from side to side as she drove, and moved her shoulders up and down like she was dancing in her seat.

“What are your thoughts?” she asked us, “I know you two are not old enough to have girlfriends and go to dances.” I assumed she was asking our thoughts on music, not on having girlfriends or NOT having girlfriends. I felt I had to answer somehow, to say what I liked about OUR music, or she would just win the argument and think I was still just a little kid.

“I don’t know”, I said, which was something I said a lot before I said what I was thinking. But I knew I had to tell her what I WAS thinking, or it would seem like I was still a little kid and not able to explain my thinking to a grownup. Specially mom, who always seemed to have everything figured out and better arguments than I did.

“A lot of OUR songs”, I said, “Are about trying to figure stuff out, you know, about growing up, about war and peace, and yeah, about boyfriend girlfriend stuff too. Not all this, ‘Oh we’re in love, let’s dance and get married’ stuff.”

She kind of snorted out a laugh through her nose and asked, “Is that what the songs I like sound like to you?” I got worried that she was going to get mad at me, and explain to me all the ways I was wrong.

“Uh”, I said, “Kind of.” Trying to be a little nicer.

Now she nodded. “Okay”, she said, “Fair enough. I get that.” She glanced at me and her eyes twinkled and she said, “Thanks for being honest. It’s refreshing to finally get a glimpse of what you really think.” I didn’t expect her to say that and I wasn’t sure how to react. Was I in some strange new place now where she wanted me to tell her everything I was thinking? That sounded really complicated, really BAD!

I went back to changing the radio station and listening for good songs. But when I couldn’t find any, we’d at least TALK about music, what our favorite songs were. Mom still liked Frank Sinatra best, and his newer “Strangers in the Night” song which I thought was pretty stupid…

Strangers in the night exchanging glances
Wondering in the night what were the chances
We’d be sharing love before the night was through

I mean I figured real people, even grownups, didn’t just look at some stranger and suddenly like them more than anybody else! But, I didn’t tell HER that.

She said she liked Tom Jones and his “It’s Not Unusual” song, but she didn’t like his newer “Thunderball” song. David of course, asked her why, and she said that the man he was singing about, which I figured was James Bond but she hadn’t seen any of his movies or read any of his books, was someone she had “no interest in meeting or spending any time with”, because he seemed “full of himself” and a “womanizer”. Though I liked the movie, or at least liked watching the movie, I didn’t like that song either, because it made James Bond seem like somebody who wasn’t very nice, and he was supposed to be the goodguy. And maybe, like she said, he WAS full of himself. I mean I knew what being full of yourself meant, but I had to think about what it meant to be a “womanizer”.

When she was done with her favorites, I said, “I like the Beatles, of course.”

“Of course?” she asked.

“Yeah”, I said, “All my friends and pretty much all kids like them.”

While still reading a comic David said, “Me and all my friends like them too.”

“Okay”, she said, “Top of your list then. Who else?”

I wanted her to be impressed by all the great music WE had, maybe more than SHE had, so I went down a whole list of bands, “The Rolling Stones, the Beach Boys, the Association, the Supremes, the Temptations, the Vandellas, the Kinks.” I looked back at David in the backseat.

“Who am I missing?” I asked him.

“There’s a bunch of other neat songs right now”, he said, “‘Red Rubber Ball’, ‘Sunny’, ‘Hey There Little Red Riding Hood’.”

“And ‘Wild Things’”, I said, “By the Troggs.”

“They call themselves the Troggs?” mom asked, giving me a funny look like she couldn’t believe it and shaking her head, “Who would name their band ‘the Troggs’?”

“Well”, I said, starting to enjoy this, “There’s another band called Sam the Sham and the Pharaohs!”

“Okay”, she said, still shaking her head, “That’s still a lot better than ‘the Troggs’.” She started to laugh, and David and I laughed too.

David decided that he could shock her even more, and said, “There’s a song called ‘They’re Coming to Take Me Away, Ha Ha’.”

“That’s a song?” mom asked, her eyes wide.

“Yep”, I said, feeling good, even proud, that we kids had so many great bands and songs, even a super silly and strange one.

“It’s a silly one”, I said, “But they play it a lot on the radio.” And David just started singing the words from the song, though it was more like talking to the beat than actually singing different notes. David and his friends knew all the words to the verses, but he only did the chorus part, but did it in that same up and down way like the guy on the radio…

They´re coming to take me away ha ha
They´re coming to take me away,
Ho ho, hee hee, ha ha,
To the funny farm
Where life is beautiful all the time
And I´ll be happy to see
Those nice young men in their clean white coats
And they´re coming to take me AWAY HA HAAAA

“Oh my god”, mom said, making a really worried look, “That’s a SONG, on the RADIO?”

“Yep”, said David, “My friends and I know ALL the words! Do you want to hear some more?”

Mom took a hand off the steering wheel and held it in the air. “No no no”, she said, “That’s plenty.”

I said my latest Beatles favorite songs were “Daytripper” and “Paperback Writer”. David liked “Daytripper” too, and “Nowhere Man”, but then mom started trying to get us to sing them. We were able to convince her that “Daytripper” was too hard to sing without the “der der der” guitar parts, but she just kept teasing us that she “SO wants to hear you guys sing”, so we finally agreed to sing “Nowhere Man”…

He’s a real nowhere man
Sitting in his nowhere land
Making all his nowhere plans for nobody

I’m not sure why, but I always felt like some stupid little kid doing what they’re told when we sang for her, specially THAT song, about a guy who doesn’t think he’s important and doesn’t know what he’s doing, so kind of like a stupid little kid really…

Doesn’t have a point of view
Knows not where he’s going to
Isn’t he a bit like you and me

But we sang it, because it would be weird to just say no when she really needed us to help her. Maybe if we could have sung a more complicated song, like “Daytripper” or “Paperback Writer”, I wouldn’t have felt that way.

Nowhere man, please listen
You don’t know what you’re missing
Nowhere man, the world is at your command

Every time we got hungry we stopped to eat, so mom could also have a break from driving. Sometimes we’d stop just because she said “nature calls”, which I guess meant that she had to go to the bathroom. I could tell she was getting tired of driving from the way her eyes looked. She said it was hard to stare at the road ahead for hours and hours, even with breaks.

We finally left the New York State Thruway and got on the Massachusetts Turnpike, which went through a lot of what would be rough terrain squares on a gameboard map, in the beginning part of Massachusetts. When we got to Springfield, mom said she wasn’t sure she could keep going, and we might have to find another motel to spend the night. But we went to this restaurant for dinner and she was able to get fried clams that she REALLY liked, which made her happy, and after sitting in the restaurant for an hour or so, she said she was okay to “tough it out to the Cape”.

***

It was after nine o’clock when we crossed the Sagamore bridge, which was the beginning part of the Cape, and me and David had fun teasing mom by saying “We’re almost there” every few minutes.

“Alright, alright all ready”, she said in a kind of silly fierce way, “Who are you two and what did you do with my wonderful children!” We all laughed.

It was after nine when we finally got to “Longnook Road”, you could barely see the sign in the cloudy dark, without even any moonlight. Mom said it was just over half a mile down the road to the driveway off to the right where our cottage was. There weren’t any street lights so with no moon it was really dark, and our car lights only showed what was ahead of us and not what was on the sides. She watched that “odometer” thing on the dashboard in front of her that counted the miles, and when she’d just counted to five tenths we found it, and turned into the driveway. David and I did one more “We’re almost there”.

There were three small houses, not right next to each other like where we lived, but farther apart. The one in the middle had all its lights on and was the biggest, because it had a second floor. The other two just had one floor and were dark. An old woman came out on the porch of the bigger house, she was all lit up by our headlights. Another pair of eyes below her under the porch glowed green in the light, and I figured that was probably one of her three cats.