SMALL GOODBYES

It was the Friday before Christmas and I was a big teenaged kid, the year before Kennedy was killed. My Mom and aunt and I were on our way "down home" for Christmas with the grandparents and family. "Going down home" is a country folk phenomenon and involves all the adult children and their children in driving down to the grandparents home, in our case, to southeastern Kentucky, Irvine Kentucky actually. Small county seat town of a few thousand. We had made this annual pilgrimage every Christmas since I could remember guess that's what you'd call a "high family tradition" of sorts.

Being a big teenager at 14,....well, I THOUGHT I was a big kid, I was bored and wasn't looking forward to spending the weekend with the cousins and old folks. I would have rather been playing football or hanging out with my buddies but...a tradition is a tradition. I settled into the backseat and stared out at the passing cars and hoped little cousin Yvonne wouldn't be hyper all night like she had been before.

We had just left the city of Covington Kentucky on old route US 27 when we saw a sailor standing by the side of the road with a huge green duffle bag hitchhiking. Normally, you couldn't have paid my aunt Jean to stop for a hitchhiker but this time she did. Jean's husband had served with the Air Force in Korea, maybe she was thinking of him, who knows? She opened the trunk and he put his duffle inside, I shoved over in back and he got in.

I'm sure he told us his name but it's lost in my mind now with time. He mentioned that he was married and had a baby girl. He told us he was a third class petty officer which was sorta like a corporal. He shared other facts with us which were small talk. Mostly I remember that he was very courteous and very appreciative of the ride. Jean said we were going to Irvine, he said he was going to Pensacola but was happy to get a ride as far as Richmond where we turned off the US highway. He'd be with us for just under a hundred miles.

Before too many miles we were laughing and talking like old friends. Once he had warmed up he took off his peacoat. Being a big kid I was quite taken with his ribbons and asked what they were for. He told me and at the time it all sounded very military and dramatic, I realized in later years that he had very common ribbons: National Defense, Canal Zone service, and a couple more I don't remember. Point is, he was no Audie Murphy, just a sailor trying to get home on Christmas Eve.

Mom broke out the hot chocolate and little waxed cups and shared it around. At first the sailor refused saying he didn't want to drink up our treats but Mom was persistent and he took a cup. He sat sipping quietly for a few miles savoring the rich hot liquid while he leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes.

We stopped in Falmouth, Kentucky, at a little roadside diner made from an old trolley car and cajoled him until he came in with us and let us buy him coffee and a piece of blueberry pie. I remember that detail clearly: blueberry pie. Amazing how the human brain remembers things, isn't it? I had a burger and fries and blueberry pie. Our guest said it was the absolute best blueberry pie he'd ever eaten, I thought it was pretty ordinary myself, but then I wasn't used to eating at a military chow hall either.

When we left he insisted on leaving the tip and though he folded it I spotted a fiver that he slid under the coffee cup where he had sat. Wow! I was impressed! A fiver for a tip in 1962 was like....a fortune!

We got back in the old Buick and headed back south again, someone, I'm not sure who, started singing Christmas carols. Singing was something which we often did on road trips down home. In those days the old AM radio stations would fade and crackle so badly in the rolling hills of Kentucky that it was better to make our own music. The sailor reluctantly joined in, apologizing for his voice. He wasn't that good a singer but he DID know a lot of the verses and more obscure songs. We had a good time. I forgot all about whining Yvonne and the staggering conversation of the old folks waiting down home and enjoyed myself more than I would have thought possible for a ride in a car to a place that I wasn't really thrilled to be going to in the first place.

In a while we got to the turn off that led to Irvine and we stopped so he could get out. Jean gave him his duffle bag and shook his hand, he came around to mom's side window and told her how much he had enjoyed the time with us, how appreciative he was for the ride and the way we had made him feel at home with us.

Jean told him to have a safe trip and be careful, she told him that when he got home Christmas to kiss his little girl for us.

That's when he told us this:

"Thank you ma'am, I sure will when I see her next, but I'm not going home, I'm on my way back to my ship now...I've been home on leave because my paw had a small heart attack, Oh...he's fine but my leave is all used up and it's time for me to go back."

Jean, like the rest of us thought he was going home for Christmas but he was actually coming off of leave having been with his sick father. My Mom, I remember, said it seemed a shame that he had to go back just before Christmas.

"Oh no ma'am'" said he "I had a great time being with paw and maw and my wife and baby and I have to go back now, I don't regret it, sometimes it just happens like that...besides, when I get back someone else can go home and that's a good thing."

"It still seems like a shame," Mom replied kind of crestfallen.

"Ladies, young man..(that would be me..) I'm glad we met up and I really appreciate the ride, I was a little worried and felt kinda low till you folks stopped and gave me a lift, I feel rested and ready to go now...oh, and thanks for singing those old carols, paw used to like singing too, kind of reminded me of home....now you folks go on and have a safe night. Kiss all your folks down home and thank you again, for everything...Merry Christmas..."

And so saying he humped that massive bag to his shoulder, squared up his white hat and walked on down the road south toward the next intersecting road. As we drove away I remember vividly the image of this sailor, bag on shoulder heading off into the darkening night.

I don't know why this image has stayed with me so long or why it was so lifelike in my memory. I don't even know why this many years later I still feel a pang of sorrow when it comes to mind.

Perhaps now, having been in the service, I can see this small goodbye as signifying more than the ending of a chance meeting. Maybe I think of our soldiers who serve today and all the small goodbyes they have made and see something of that sailor in all of us who have and continue to serve. Maybe I wonder what ever happened to that sailor and accept now that any small goodbye could be a parting forever. Maybe I wish I had shaken his hand and thanked him for keeping us safe. I don't really know for sure. What do you think this means?

This Christmas: Off The BeanVine wishes all my readers the very Merriest of Christmases and the finest New Year ever. Remember the troops and send them your praise and kindnesses every time you can. Never miss an opportunity to thank them or shake their hand and welcome them home, one chance is all you may get.

beansimple said it

and above all...
think for yourself