Fort Worth and Pickton, Texas

The Trip:
My dad has always liked to travel and that still seems to be the case.I remember as a kid when it came time for our yearly family vacation he'd dig out our maps and pour over them determining the fastest route from point A to point B. His definition of travel was definitely not "stop and smell the roses." Once the four of us were in the car it was put the pedal to the metal and "make time."Even restroom stops were prohibited unless absolutely necessary. No stoppin' for nothin.' This philosophy was a huge source of frustration for my mom who's idea of travel was just the opposite; to not only get where we were going but to savor the trip along the way. No such luck.

But those days for my dad are gone now. Once he is buckled into his seat he has no idea what time we departed and no idea what time we need to be at our destination. I guess it is now his time to smell the traveling roses.

This past week end our family made a trip to Ft. Worth and then on to north east Texas to see our son's boys. Pulling out of the driveway early Saturday morning, suitcases in the rear, Pop in the passenger seat and the rest of us strapped into our places, we were on our way. I don't tell my dad anymore that we are taking a trip. That would be too overwhelming for him. Even though I pack his bags for him, the emotional responsibility that he takes on just throws him into a tizzy. What I say is we're going for a "ride," a 1/2 truth which allows all of us to relax and enjoy the journey.

The motel:
Once arriving at our motel the experience becomes a bit more stressful. Not wanting to duplicate our last adventure north east where Pop escaped in the wee hours of the morning wandering the halls only to be rescued by the hotel staff, we knew we needed a good security plan to keep him locked in. At our motel I noticed a couple of small tables in our suite. At bedtime I butted one of the tables up against the door. On top of that went an ice chest and on top of that went a suit case. In the end the door sort of looked like a wall. Voila! No way for Pop to get out!

Settling into our room, exhausted from our long drive and a busy day, we went through the rigmarole of helping Pop find adequate places for his stash of assorted pocket items; his pocket knife, his key to the house - which he never uses, his nail clippers and finger nail file which he uses ALL the time, some rolls of tissue and his wallet. Coupling these items with his over night bag, his flash light and his baseball cap, everything was placed on the night stand next to his bed. Then began the repetitions of showing him where everything was, reshowing him where everything was and showing him again where everything was.

Moments after the lights were out and eyes closed I became aware that there was light flashing around the room. Was I surprised to see that it was my dad swathing the room with streaks of light from his flash light? Was he trying to orient himself? I don't know. This went on for 30 minutes or more. I just tried to ignore it.

Rising the next morning, without incident, I quietly complimented myself on coming up with such an ingenious plan to secure the perimeter. My dad was still asleep when I rose. Wanting to make it to the "kitchen" for our complimentary breakfast before it closed at 9:00, the three of us, son, husband and I, dressed leaving Pop still in his bed. Stirring a bit, I went over to him and whispered in his ear that we were going to breakfast, that he could stay in bed and sleep and we'd bring his food to him. That seemed satisfactory and we slipped out the door.

After enjoying our table conversation around a breakfast consisting of waffles in the shape of Texas and a liquid they called coffee, I decided I should probably check on Pop and bring him his plate of "Texas." Quietly opening the door I found that he had roused and was up. Looking like Einstein with his white hair standing straight up and out around the sides of his head he was still in his blue stripped jammie shirt. Below the waist he was in his "tighty whities" that gaped open around his little, white, toothpick legs. I had obviously arrived in just the nick of time because he was ready to blow a gasket unable to locate his clothes.

Not wanting to observe the strip, I handed him a pair of clean underwear and ushered him into the bathroom with a promise that I'd hand in his clothing after he'd slipped out of yesterday's undies. That having been accomplished, the next challenge was finding his glasses. Not noticing, the night before, where he stashed his much needed eye ware, I realized that this was a more serious issue then finding his clothing. After searching the room a number of times I sat him down to his now cold breakfast assuring him that I'd find the glasses and that he should eat before it got so cold he'd have to gag it down. The search continued with him up and down from his breakfast trying to enter into the hunt, with me trying to get him to settle down and just eat and let me do the looking. After searching in all of the obvious and not so obvious places, I finally located them in the pocket of his overnight bag. Relieved, we both relaxed. Another mystery resolved.

Visiting the boys:
Checking out of our room we hopped in the truck and made our way to the tiny ranching community of Pickton, Texas. What! You've never heard of Pickton? Tucked 15 miles east of Sulphur Springs, Texas, (and you've never heard of Sulphur Springs, either?) which is 1 1/2 hours north east of Dallas, we picked up Bret's boys, 5 and 7 years old. Pop loves little kids and especially enjoys watching his great grandsons as they go about being little boys. Turning to me frequently throughout the afternoon, he'd say, "They sure are cute little guys!"

As he watched them bowling he beamed with joy and laughed out loud each time Troy, the 5 year old, bounced the bowling ball down the alley actually hitting some bowling pins. It was delightful for me to see my dad enjoying his great grandsons. It is moments like these that make our decision to bring him here to live with us very satisfying and causes an indescribable sense of rightness about what we are doing.

Leaving Pickton around 5:00 PM meant that we'd not get back to Austin until around 10:30 or 11:00 that night. We dreaded what lay ahead. The long trip did not disappoint us. It was grueling. I observed how rested Pop seemed as he sat in the passenger seat continuing to take in the homeward bound sights until darkness enveloped us. 36 + hours after our departure Saturday morning we pulled into our driveway in the pitch dark. Pop announced in his perky voice, "Thanks for the drive. I really enjoyed it!"

Today I rose still rather weary from our week end adventures. I won't mention the trip to my dad, the motel with it's Texas shaped waffles, the search for his glasses, the fun times he had watching his grandsons bowl and play arcade games, consuming ice cream and McDonalds hamburgers. He wouldn't remember. But I am thankful that we had this week end. I will remember.