I forgot––when I picked up that flat box, the last one on the Farmers’ Market table barely filled with green grape-like gooseberries, remembering all the times my mother had mentioned gooseberries and trying to remember what she said about them and then excitedly telling my husband that I definitely wanted to buy it so he shelled out $4 for that little box––I forgot that I’ve done this same act before and didn’t like gooseberries, then or now.
I remembered––when every inch of the dishwasher was filled with dirty dishes after the family dinner we had for 13 people and I was so proud to have been able to squeeze it all in and was pleased to see that the dishwasher could hold so much, but then wouldn’t turn on or even light up––I remembered to check the breaker box. And I remembered that the circuits were mixed up and so even if a breaker wasn’t labeled “kitchen” it might still be connected to the dishwasher, so I closed and re-opened every breaker that didn’t seem to be an extra, even though the garbage disposer was still working and it was plugged in the same set of outlets. When that didn’t work we had to call Bosch Service, who came a week later and found out it was a breaker after all, one that was all the way off but wasn’t labled and therefore had looked like an extra blank one.
After it had taken me all day, and a whole bottle of wine, to do those dirty dishes.
We forgot––after both sons arrived safely home and the elder hadn’t missed his plane this time, as he has done twice in the past, and after we had the obligatory family dinner for 13 (which was good even though no one wanted any gooseberries and I had to do all the dishes by hand) and we were leaving on our family trip––after all that, we forgot to pack any juices or sparkling cider for our non-drinking son Jeff, even though we made sure we had plenty of wine and beer for Jonathan and ourselves to enjoy along with snacks at happy hour every evening.
No wonder Jeff felt left out and then became more and more snarly as the week went on––not at Yosemite, which he liked, but starting at about Mono Lake and on down 395 until we got to Manzanar, which both of the boys enjoyed almost as much as the Chinese dinner with their Uncle Ken and family in Monterey Park at the very end of the week.
I remember most, a great family vacation––that week in June.
(Date of travel: June 2014)
4 thoughts on “I Remember One Week in a June”
Fun, Ev, remember the good stuff and forget the not so good. Family is great, Liz
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Yep – at the end of the day, all we have are memories, and memories of family trips are the best.
It is approximately a 5 1/2 hour drive from Bardstown, Kentucky back to the one-and-only STOP sign in Jenera, Ohio.
But it is only one short electronic post from my dear friend Evelyn, to take my memories back to our almost Amish-like simple childhood. And it only takes one brave bit of creative writing to reconnect the joyful, love-filled childhood friendships once again.
Just as surely as a car can travel 60 miles per hour, a reconnected friendship can distance the decades in a moment’s memory.
Thank you Evelyn for your post about your California-based experiences and our shared Ohio-based memories of gooseberries.
Keep the great writing coming. I will keep the “light on” in the breaker box of our friendship while waiting for your next post.
Sent from my iPhone
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Aww, that’s sweet, Diane. Wish we lived closer.