The Way We Met
Melody (my literary alter-ego) was only
seven at the time, and I was 54 at the time of the writing, so a few details
regarding the description of the car we crossed the country in slipped my mind
over the years. Mom told me that it was an Opel station wagon, and that she had
never been able to understand why Gramma Mary bought that particular car, since
she was a stalwart Chevrolet buyer, purchasing a new car every year, factory
direct.
Wanting to be accurate, I looked up Opel
Station wagon on Explorer and… found nothing, at least nothing about the
subject I was searching for. I tried again, with the same results. However,
something new DID show up: a message from Microsoft referring to a
Question-and-Answer site, appropriately named QnA, where, they said, you could
ask real people real questions and get real answers, although some weren’t
necessarily correct.
So, I decided to give it a try. What I
didn’t know was that QnA was an early social media and that I had to answer a
bunch of personal questions before I could ask mine. The moment came, and I was
given the chance to ask my question. In fact, that was one of the most
interesting parts of this particular site, that every post had to begin with a
question. Answers could be statements.
My question: “Does anyone know anything
about 1960 Opel Station Wagons?” received two answers; one was rather flakey:
“No, but I hope someone can help you.” Reading that one, I was less than
impressed with the site, as you can probably imagine. I can’t remember… well,
yes, I can, but she’s a friend, so I won’t say her name.
The person who gave the answer that had
me saying “YES!” had a very famous rock formation from Monument Valley as his
avatar. Having lived in Utah for over four years before and after serving my
mission and moving back to Italy, my curiosity was piqued. This guy, Russ, gave
the right answer: that it was called an Opel Caravan (I lived in Italy for 31
years and always wondered what a caravan was, since I had a totally different
mentality towards what a caravan consisted of) and he gave me a link.
That link took me to a site that
explained everything I needed to know, along with a photo that looked just like
the car that we crossed the country in. I was happy to be able to tell my Mom
that Opel was simply a European automobile company that was also a possession
of General Motors, so Gramma Mary didn’t go far from her Chevy.
The man knew everything. He had what is
commonly known as a photographic memory and could tell you almost anything you
might want to know on just about any subject. And he had no problems sharing
that knowledge with anyone who asked. It wasn’t to show off or pretend to be
something he wasn’t.
That smart bit is one of the things I
miss about Russ. The two of us could just sit on the sofa and talk, talk about
anything, because his knowledge of the world around us was vast. And he was always
ready to talk, even if he was watching a TV show that interested him, he would
listen to what I had to say, and we would discuss whatever was going on in each
other’s thoughts. He never once said to shut up because he wanted to watch the
TV.
And I miss him. I miss him so much, but
I’ll see him again and we can talk about what he missed here by not getting old
with me, and what he’s learned since he died. And then I’ll tell him what it’s
like to grow old alone. Oh well.
Until next time, farewell.
M. E. P.
Copyright © March 25, 2021. Mary E. Purpari. All Rights Reserved.
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