Memory Lane

I'm home now. Finally. Don't get me wrong. I loved the trip, but for the last couple days all I've wanted to do was come home to Chester and see him sit up on his butt and beg. Before Chester I doubt I would have felt this way. I love Athens and all, but I'm convinced I could be just as happy in other places (Colorado being the best one of course). At dinner last night with my family, my brother-in-law was surprised by my willingness to move away from Athens, which he called my Mecca. He is partially right, but I don't know. I should move on to the end of our trip...

Nostalgia is a good word for the last stop of our trip. We went to see our grandparents in Shreveport like we have done so many times, but it was just the two of us this time around, so we couldn't just let our mom do the talking. It was a relatively short visit, but productive. We saw our Aunt Barbee and our Aunt Connie and jokingly tried to get the dirt on our mother from her earlier years. We got a couple of old boyfriends' names, but that's all. Our grandparents are both 90 and live in a small bungalow house where many family christmas dinners have taken place.

I slept on the couch in their living room and all I could think of was all the life that was in these walls. I don't know how much more time they have here on earth, but they sure have made the best of it. Though I joke about my grandmother being senile, she always manages to find the good in things. She is the true definition of eternal optimist. As for my granddad. He is old school. He is a man of very few words, but when you get him one on one he tells great stories from the old days or just talks sports with you. My parents kid me about how I may be the closest one to my granddad because we always shy away from the big family crowd when we're all together. I am rather proud of this. As the youngest grandchild, I am rarely the center of attention and I think he likes that about me. Or maybe that's what I like to think.

Another bit of nostalgia on this leg of the trip involved baseball...of course. It seems like every time we went to Shreveport (which was almost every summer) as kids, we would find time to go to a Shreveport Captains game. At the time, they were a minor league team for the S.F. Giants and won their division year after year, but these days they are a measly independent league team that has lost all affiliation with the Majors. Fortunately the same stadium exists and the team now known as the Shreveport Sports were in town. We strolled though the stadium as if we were little kids again thinking about the times we tried to get autographs, the souvenir helmet ice cream I always begged for, and that awesome mini-bat I got one year for my birthday. The field was in horrible shape and the crowd was maybe a few hundred, but it was a very gratifying experience all the same. We didn't stay the whole time since we had grandparents to visit with, but we did stop by the old Hot Donuts place right by the stadium. Somehow it is still kicking in the rough neighborhood that grew up around it. I did not eat a donut, but perhaps I should have to complete the stroll through memory lane.

My grandparents are interesting people that are very rare in the world we live in. Despite my grandmother's excessive worrying and my granddad's use of terms that are not so accepted by today's standards, they are the greatest example of selflessness, loyalty, and longevity in love that I'll probably ever have in my life. They seem to have found the secret to being content, one that always seems to be out of my grasp. They live simply, love everyone, and feed you Blue Bell ice cream until you're sick.