| Biographical Non-Fiction posted January 19, 2021 | Chapters: |
...93 94 -95- 96... 
|
  |
Getting back home among other things.
A chapter in the book Remembering Yesterday
Forward into 1986
by BethShelby
.jpg)
For new readers, who may not have read my author notes, this is written in a conversational way as I talk to my deceased husband. When I refer to someone just as "you" this means I am addressing my husband, Evan.
It was a good thing that you and I were both free to shop together for the new items needed for our home. You weren’t hard to please with household décor, but I wanted your approval on the furniture. You were more involved in the process when it came to shopping for a new wardrobe for yourself. More of your clothes seemed to have been ruined because of the type of material in your suits and ties. You knew more what you didn’t want, than about what you wanted. That made shopping for you more complicated, and you insisted that I come with you.
When it came to clothes for Connie or me, you stayed behind and watched television. On January 28, I came in from a shopping excursion to find you upset. You had just watched videos of the spaceship Challenger exploding in space. Your program had been interrupted with news of the explosion, which happened less than two minutes after launch. You had always been interested in aeronautics. That was part of the reason we had recently visited the space station in Florida.
For days, we’d listened to news stories and seen interviews with Christa McAuliffe, the civilian elementary school teacher, who had won out over 11,000 applicants to be the representative who could interest young people in space exploration. The plan was for her to talk to students while traveling in space. The launch was carried live into school rooms so that 11 to 15-year-olds could watch. This was President Reagan’s way to generate new interest in the space exploration program. Now, many of those children would need counseling, especially those of her own students who watched in horror, as their beloved teacher was among the seven who died in the crash.
*******
Work on our house continued, and at the end of February, due to inspection delays, we asked for another month to rent the house we were in. Don was doing an excellent job with rebuilding the interior, but he was spending the money he earned as fast as he was paid. The one thing he’d never learned was how to save.
On the first of March, we moved back in, and it was like being in a new home. We had gotten rid of the extra bedroom that we had created for Carol, and once again, we had a formal dining room. We had bought a twin bedroom set with canopies for Christi and Connie. You and I also had a new cherry bedroom suite. The mahogany set which had been refinished would be Don’s and would go in the new room which had once been Connie’s. We were very pleased with the new look.
********
As soon as the school term ended in May, we decided to take a vacation trip before Don or I went back to work. Don felt he had earned the right to pick the place, and he voted for a trip to Washington, D.C. Christi wasn’t interested in going there, but she had friends who lived in the Chattanooga area that she'd known while in college in Tennessee. She asked that we drop her off there, so she could have some time with them.
Not wanting to spend a lot of money, we decided to camp whenever it was convenient, so we took the van. This was my first trip to DC and I was impressed. We toured the Capitol but weren’t able to see the White House. The day we were there, we walked to the fence and saw the red carpet that was laid out for a visiting dignitary. We also went up in the Washington Monument and looked over the city. We didn’t have time to do all of the Smithsonian buildings, but you and Don chose the Air and Space Museum and Connie and I chose the Museum of Natural History. We could have spent days in either of them.
After we left Washington, you surprised us by saying, ”I know I’m not going to get away with being this close to New York and not going there, so we might as well go.” The trip to New York should have been scrapped, because we stayed lost the whole time we were there. We went through the Lincoln Tunnel and over the George Washington Bridge three times, while trying to find our way. Each time we paid a toll, and you joked that we were on a first-name basis with the toll collector before we left the city. I wanted to see Broadway, and when we found the street, I was excited, not realizing the only portion that I was going to see was in a very rundown section where cars were parked three-deep in front of seedy apartment buildings. You were sure that if there had been another coat of paint on our van, the speeding New York taxis would have scraped it off. You left the city behind as soon as you located an exit street.
Our next stop was in the Catskills mountains, where we found a beautiful park that allowed camping. Don and Connie spent the night in the tent and you and I enjoyed sleeping in the van. In Pennsylvania, we went to the little town of Hershey. Touring the Hershey Candy factory might have been Connie’s favorite stop. Other highlights were the Gettysburg battlefield and the Amish country in Lancaster County. We came back through Tennessee and picked Christi up.
Back in Metairie again, Don found some construction work, and I took a job with a company that rented out medical equipment and spent my days pulling files and billing insurance companies. It was easy work, and it happened to be the only thing available at the time.
This may be a bit out of sequence, but since I didn’t touch on it earlier, it is worth mentioning. It involved the Firebird that became such an albatross for our son, causing him to have to leave college in Tennessee. He eventually dragged the thing back to Metairie, where it sat in our driveway leaking oil, until Don and a friend managed to pull out the fried motor and replace it with another one they found in still another junkyard. The old motor was an eyesore in our backyard, so your solution was to dig a hole and bury it. I can imagine what might happen at some later date, when someone chances over it with a metal detector and believes he’s located a pirate’s trove. What a disappointment!
Back to the Firebird, it cranked once, and Don traded it with his friend for another worthless piece of junk that he eventually sold to a hopeful, but hapless, buyer for a fraction of what the debacle had originally cost Don, as well as us. Hopefully, it could be written off as a lesson learned.
In order not to end on a negative note, I will mention the pretty new girlfriend Don was dating. She came from a wealthy New York family. and her dad owned an Island somewhere. She was a member of our church and a student at Tulane. Don’s evenings were often spent at the apartment that she shared with a friend.
For new readers, who may not have read my author notes, this is written in a conversational way as I talk to my deceased husband. When I refer to someone just as "you" this means I am addressing my husband, Evan.
It was a good thing that you and I were both free to shop together for the new items needed for our home. You weren’t hard to please with household décor, but I wanted your approval on the furniture. You were more involved in the process when it came to shopping for a new wardrobe for yourself. More of your clothes seemed to have been ruined because of the type of material in your suits and ties. You knew more what you didn’t want, than about what you wanted. That made shopping for you more complicated, and you insisted that I come with you.
When it came to clothes for Connie or me, you stayed behind and watched television. On January 28, I came in from a shopping excursion to find you upset. You had just watched videos of the spaceship Challenger exploding in space. Your program had been interrupted with news of the explosion, which happened less than two minutes after launch. You had always been interested in aeronautics. That was part of the reason we had recently visited the space station in Florida.
For days, we’d listened to news stories and seen interviews with Christa McAuliffe, the civilian elementary school teacher, who had won out over 11,000 applicants to be the representative who could interest young people in space exploration. The plan was for her to talk to students while traveling in space. The launch was carried live into school rooms so that 11 to 15-year-olds could watch. This was President Reagan’s way to generate new interest in the space exploration program. Now, many of those children would need counseling, especially those of her own students who watched in horror, as their beloved teacher was among the seven who died in the crash.
*******
Work on our house continued, and at the end of February, due to inspection delays, we asked for another month to rent the house we were in. Don was doing an excellent job with rebuilding the interior, but he was spending the money he earned as fast as he was paid. The one thing he’d never learned was how to save.
On the first of March, we moved back in, and it was like being in a new home. We had gotten rid of the extra bedroom that we had created for Carol, and once again, we had a formal dining room. We had bought a twin bedroom set with canopies for Christi and Connie. You and I also had a new cherry bedroom suite. The mahogany set which had been refinished would be Don’s and would go in the new room which had once been Connie’s. We were very pleased with the new look.
********
As soon as the school term ended in May, we decided to take a vacation trip before Don or I went back to work. Don felt he had earned the right to pick the place, and he voted for a trip to Washington, D.C. Christi wasn’t interested in going there, but she had friends who lived in the Chattanooga area that she'd known while in college in Tennessee. She asked that we drop her off there, so she could have some time with them.
Not wanting to spend a lot of money, we decided to camp whenever it was convenient, so we took the van. This was my first trip to DC and I was impressed. We toured the Capitol but weren’t able to see the White House. The day we were there, we walked to the fence and saw the red carpet that was laid out for a visiting dignitary. We also went up in the Washington Monument and looked over the city. We didn’t have time to do all of the Smithsonian buildings, but you and Don chose the Air and Space Museum and Connie and I chose the Museum of Natural History. We could have spent days in either of them.
After we left Washington, you surprised us by saying, ”I know I’m not going to get away with being this close to New York and not going there, so we might as well go.” The trip to New York should have been scrapped, because we stayed lost the whole time we were there. We went through the Lincoln Tunnel and over the George Washington Bridge three times, while trying to find our way. Each time we paid a toll, and you joked that we were on a first-name basis with the toll collector before we left the city. I wanted to see Broadway, and when we found the street, I was excited, not realizing the only portion that I was going to see was in a very rundown section where cars were parked three-deep in front of seedy apartment buildings. You were sure that if there had been another coat of paint on our van, the speeding New York taxis would have scraped it off. You left the city behind as soon as you located an exit street.
Our next stop was in the Catskills mountains, where we found a beautiful park that allowed camping. Don and Connie spent the night in the tent and you and I enjoyed sleeping in the van. In Pennsylvania, we went to the little town of Hershey. Touring the Hershey Candy factory might have been Connie’s favorite stop. Other highlights were the Gettysburg battlefield and the Amish country in Lancaster County. We came back through Tennessee and picked Christi up.
Back in Metairie again, Don found some construction work, and I took a job with a company that rented out medical equipment and spent my days pulling files and billing insurance companies. It was easy work, and it happened to be the only thing available at the time.
This may be a bit out of sequence, but since I didn’t touch on it earlier, it is worth mentioning. It involved the Firebird that became such an albatross for our son, causing him to have to leave college in Tennessee. He eventually dragged the thing back to Metairie, where it sat in our driveway leaking oil, until Don and a friend managed to pull out the fried motor and replace it with another one they found in still another junkyard. The old motor was an eyesore in our backyard, so your solution was to dig a hole and bury it. I can imagine what might happen at some later date, when someone chances over it with a metal detector and believes he’s located a pirate’s trove. What a disappointment!
Back to the Firebird, it cranked once, and Don traded it with his friend for another worthless piece of junk that he eventually sold to a hopeful, but hapless, buyer for a fraction of what the debacle had originally cost Don, as well as us. Hopefully, it could be written off as a lesson learned.
In order not to end on a negative note, I will mention the pretty new girlfriend Don was dating. She came from a wealthy New York family. and her dad owned an Island somewhere. She was a member of our church and a student at Tulane. Don’s evenings were often spent at the apartment that she shared with a friend.
It was a good thing that you and I were both free to shop together for the new items needed for our home. You weren’t hard to please with household décor, but I wanted your approval on the furniture. You were more involved in the process when it came to shopping for a new wardrobe for yourself. More of your clothes seemed to have been ruined because of the type of material in your suits and ties. You knew more what you didn’t want, than about what you wanted. That made shopping for you more complicated, and you insisted that I come with you.
When it came to clothes for Connie or me, you stayed behind and watched television. On January 28, I came in from a shopping excursion to find you upset. You had just watched videos of the spaceship Challenger exploding in space. Your program had been interrupted with news of the explosion, which happened less than two minutes after launch. You had always been interested in aeronautics. That was part of the reason we had recently visited the space station in Florida.
For days, we’d listened to news stories and seen interviews with Christa McAuliffe, the civilian elementary school teacher, who had won out over 11,000 applicants to be the representative who could interest young people in space exploration. The plan was for her to talk to students while traveling in space. The launch was carried live into school rooms so that 11 to 15-year-olds could watch. This was President Reagan’s way to generate new interest in the space exploration program. Now, many of those children would need counseling, especially those of her own students who watched in horror, as their beloved teacher was among the seven who died in the crash.
*******
Work on our house continued, and at the end of February, due to inspection delays, we asked for another month to rent the house we were in. Don was doing an excellent job with rebuilding the interior, but he was spending the money he earned as fast as he was paid. The one thing he’d never learned was how to save.
On the first of March, we moved back in, and it was like being in a new home. We had gotten rid of the extra bedroom that we had created for Carol, and once again, we had a formal dining room. We had bought a twin bedroom set with canopies for Christi and Connie. You and I also had a new cherry bedroom suite. The mahogany set which had been refinished would be Don’s and would go in the new room which had once been Connie’s. We were very pleased with the new look.
********
As soon as the school term ended in May, we decided to take a vacation trip before Don or I went back to work. Don felt he had earned the right to pick the place, and he voted for a trip to Washington, D.C. Christi wasn’t interested in going there, but she had friends who lived in the Chattanooga area that she'd known while in college in Tennessee. She asked that we drop her off there, so she could have some time with them.
Not wanting to spend a lot of money, we decided to camp whenever it was convenient, so we took the van. This was my first trip to DC and I was impressed. We toured the Capitol but weren’t able to see the White House. The day we were there, we walked to the fence and saw the red carpet that was laid out for a visiting dignitary. We also went up in the Washington Monument and looked over the city. We didn’t have time to do all of the Smithsonian buildings, but you and Don chose the Air and Space Museum and Connie and I chose the Museum of Natural History. We could have spent days in either of them.
After we left Washington, you surprised us by saying, ”I know I’m not going to get away with being this close to New York and not going there, so we might as well go.” The trip to New York should have been scrapped, because we stayed lost the whole time we were there. We went through the Lincoln Tunnel and over the George Washington Bridge three times, while trying to find our way. Each time we paid a toll, and you joked that we were on a first-name basis with the toll collector before we left the city. I wanted to see Broadway, and when we found the street, I was excited, not realizing the only portion that I was going to see was in a very rundown section where cars were parked three-deep in front of seedy apartment buildings. You were sure that if there had been another coat of paint on our van, the speeding New York taxis would have scraped it off. You left the city behind as soon as you located an exit street.
Our next stop was in the Catskills mountains, where we found a beautiful park that allowed camping. Don and Connie spent the night in the tent and you and I enjoyed sleeping in the van. In Pennsylvania, we went to the little town of Hershey. Touring the Hershey Candy factory might have been Connie’s favorite stop. Other highlights were the Gettysburg battlefield and the Amish country in Lancaster County. We came back through Tennessee and picked Christi up.
Back in Metairie again, Don found some construction work, and I took a job with a company that rented out medical equipment and spent my days pulling files and billing insurance companies. It was easy work, and it happened to be the only thing available at the time.
This may be a bit out of sequence, but since I didn’t touch on it earlier, it is worth mentioning. It involved the Firebird that became such an albatross for our son, causing him to have to leave college in Tennessee. He eventually dragged the thing back to Metairie, where it sat in our driveway leaking oil, until Don and a friend managed to pull out the fried motor and replace it with another one they found in still another junkyard. The old motor was an eyesore in our backyard, so your solution was to dig a hole and bury it. I can imagine what might happen at some later date, when someone chances over it with a metal detector and believes he’s located a pirate’s trove. What a disappointment!
Back to the Firebird, it cranked once, and Don traded it with his friend for another worthless piece of junk that he eventually sold to a hopeful, but hapless, buyer for a fraction of what the debacle had originally cost Don, as well as us. Hopefully, it could be written off as a lesson learned.
In order not to end on a negative note, I will mention the pretty new girlfriend Don was dating. She came from a wealthy New York family. and her dad owned an Island somewhere. She was a member of our church and a student at Tulane. Don’s evenings were often spent at the apartment that she shared with a friend.
 Recognized |
I'm continuing to recall memories of life with my deceased husband, Evan, as if I am talking aloud to him. I'm doing this because I want my children to know us as we knew each other and not just as their parents.
Pays
one point
and 2 member cents. 
You need to login or register to write reviews. It's quick! We only ask four questions to new members.
© Copyright 2024. BethShelby All rights reserved.
BethShelby has granted FanStory.com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
