Travels with Grandpa

My dad has never been much of a talker. My wife's father doesn't talk much either. I remember when our son Scott was in kindergarten and the teacher called Belinda because she was worried about him. She said, "Scott doesn't seem to talk much."

My answer was that Scott might be like his Grandpas and one word a week might be all he wants to say. Anyway, getting back to my dad and our travels, it's a lonely ride if you're waiting for him to say anything. On top of that, he speaks very quietly and I often can't hear what he says anyway.

Over Memorial Day, we drove down to the Black Hills. There was Belinda, Grandpa and me. Belinda and I can visit. When we walk in the morning, we talk and we converse over meals, etc. But then there's Grandpa.

So I was a little dismayed when I found out that Belinda wasn't coming back to Mandan with us. Instead, it would just be dad and I. That would make the long trip even longer.

Since my heart troubles in March, I've been on water pills. I take them twice a day and they can quickly become your master...especially when driving. So we left Rapid City and I had to stop in Sturgis, which is maybe 30 minutes a way. It was a lucky thing I did because dad needed to stop also, but he didn't tell me.

Our next stop was at Newell. Same thing, I had to stop and dad did, too. Then we were onto Faith. We stopped at a little gas station that was full of people. Some of the men were standing in line to use the restroom. That didn't matter to dad. As soon as someone walked out of the restroom, he walked in. Who cared if there was a line. Since the water pill had already kicked in, I followed dad into the restroom myself. However, I was afraid of what might be awaiting us when we walked out. The crowd might turn angry.

So I thought up an excuse that Grandpa needs help when using the restroom. Actually, when we left the restroom, the line had subsided. My guess is the men had decided to use the women's can. Things like that happen in small town gas stations.

Our next stop was Lemmon. It is an interesting town because it straddles the North Dakota, South Dakota border. There are electric customers of MDU who live in Lemmon that have different rates than their neighbors depending  on what side of the border they live. No kidding.

However, I digress again. We ate lunch in Lemmon at the Alaska cafe because it was right on the highway. As I walked in, I noticed there were a lot of conversations going on but there would be none at my table because one of the twosome doesn't talk. I about asked a family if we could sit with them just so I could listen to them chat while I was eating my hamburger. You miss talking when you are living in a world of total silence.

After that, we got back in our car. Prior to Lemmon, we had been listening to country music on some CDs, but I was so lonely that I turned on KFYR radio and listened to talk shows. People were calling in about the pending flood. This isn't exactly the most uplifting conversation, but at least it's company.

A couple hours later I was pulling into Mandan and dad said something about his cat. I'm not sure what he said because I can't hear him. But I thought, wow, we drove six hours and the first thing he has talked about is Picasso. He didn't ask about eating, talk about needing to use a bathroom, or anything. But he was wondering about his cat at least enough to actually speak.

All I can say is, that cat is loved.