Ruth and I took Brady and Eva out for breakfast last Saturday. We picked them up at Papa and Grandma’s house. (That’s Lindsay’s parents.) We planned to eat at a local mom and pop restaurant that we haven’t been to in over thirty years.
Lindsay’s parents live on Folks Road. We headed west on Folks, and as we were turning left to go the restaurant , I flashed back to a day forty-two years ago. We were stopped on the corner of Folks and Moscow Roads. A church and Hanover-Horton High School sit on the northeast and southeast corner of the intersection. There are three large trees near the church’s sign. I’ve never taken the time to read the sign, so I don’t know the name of the church.
The first time I heard of Hanover-Horton High School, my older cousin, Dom, landed a job teaching there. He was also hired to be the head coach of the varsity football team. Coaching was the primary reason that he was hired. Years later, I moved my family of four (Michael wasn’t born yet.) to Lake LeAnn. We live on one side of the dam that divides the north and south lakes of the LeAnn duo. We’re in the Addison School District. The other side of the dam is Hanover-Horton.
But I digress.
When your children are young you remind them to use the bathroom before making a trip in a car. Forty-two years ago I had such a conversation with our “going on three years old” son, David. I reminded him to “go” as we prepared for a trip back to Plainwell to visit Ruth’s parents. We took the back way through the country to get to I-94. As we approached the intersection of Moscow and Folks Roads, I heard a voice from the backseat. It was David. (Elizabeth was only six months old and not much of a talker.) We had left the house about fifteen minutes earlier.
“I have to go potty.” (He was housebroken and verbal.)
I probably sighed before saying, “Number one or number two?” (We had a code system.)
“One.”
(Thank goodness.)
I pulled into the church parking lot on the corner, retrieved David from his car seat, and as I walked with him to the tree located furthest from the church’s sign, I said, “You can go right here.”
He looked up at me quizzically. I said, “It’s Ok. Just pee on the tree.”
I’m not totally sure that was the first time that he peed outside, but I am positive that it’s the first time that I told him to do so. In fact, I’m pretty sure that I never told him that again. Once a guy gets a feel for the fresh outdoors, he takes advantage of it.
I don’t know why that story popped into my head, but it did, and I told it to Brady. I knew that he could relate to it. It was the first time that I told the story to anyone.
I think that I remember that stop because it was a first. David was our first child and he was the first one that I stopped the car for so that he could relieve himself. I expect that there were other such stops for David, Elizabeth, and Michael, but that’s the only one that is fixed in my brain.
Firsts are like that. Memorable. First words, first steps, first kisses, first dances, first cars, first dates, first loves, and on and on.
When we first stopped on that corner forty-two years ago, I never really thought about Folks Road. Moscow Road was important because we traveled it on a regular basis. Folks was just a forgettable cross street. The road became more important about twenty-five years later when “all grown up” Elizabeth worked at the Beach Bar on Clark Lake. She invited David to go on a date with a co-worker, Lindsay, who worked with her at the bar.
David and Lindsay’s first date was a Detroit Tigers baseball game. They hit if off and continued to date. I don’t know if he picked her up at her parent’s house on Folks Road for that first date or not. (I hope so because that’s what a gentleman does.) But I do know that when he met Lindsay’s mom for the first time she said, “She comes with property. We own fifty-four acres and each of our kids will be getting a third.”
I’m not sure if that was a selling point, or not, but they continued dating, married in 2004 and had their first child, Brady, the following year. Folks Road has been a part of our life ever since.
It’s funny how things circle around. My cousin, Dom, landed his first teaching job in a high school located on the corner of Folks and Moscow Roads. Years later my first-born son, David, took his first parent authorized outdoors pee on the same corner. Later still, David fell for the first lady of his life, and she lived on Folks.
Now I’ve written my first blog about peeing outside. It won’t surprise me if one day, in the not too distant future, Brady stops by the tree too. That’s how traditions begin. Being the first to follow in another’s footsteps.