Ohio day 3

September 12

This morning we were pensive about packing up and hitting the road. We've traveled so long and have come so far to reach a place that I had once called "home," and we were with people who had once been part of my daily existence in that home. On one level the idea of following an itinerary just because it had been proposed seemed frivolous. What did we have to prove and to whom? What more did we need to add to this trip that we hadn't already done? What was to prevent us from just staying put with my mother and sister for a while and then drifting off to New Jersey to return the van by the appointed date? We had already cut out parts of the itinerary; we left out Canada entirely – no Vancouver and no Toronto on this trip. Yet, on another level, the places on the itinerary still unvisited were not actually what was important, it was the people in those places that mattered. The itinerary of the Western US emphasized places; the itinerary of the Eastern US emphasized people. We could cut out New Orleans if it became necessary because we had no one waiting for us there, but we couldn't cut out our Florida destinations, or any of the destinations between Florida and Connecticut, without disappointing someone, or perhaps missing the only opportunity we might ever have to meet a relative or important friend. So we packed with the resolve of seeing the itinerary fulfilled. New adventures awaited us....

Before we left Toledo we had a few essential things to do. First of all, we could not possibly leave town without visiting my father's grave. Second of all, we could not leave town without one more visit with my mother, no matter how difficult this might turn out to be. And last of all, I had a T-shirt to exchange at the Kohl's department store near my mother, and also near where Miriam works.

Miriam had to get to work this morning at an early hour so she left before we had finished packing up our purchases and stowing all our round-the-worldly possessions in the van. Ivan stuck around a little longer and we left at the same time he did. We drove the van to Mom's nursing home and parked in the lot.

Mom was more alert than she had been during our previous visit two days before. When we called to her she opened her eyes widely and greeted us with a smile. Her eyes didn't stay open very long, but she was still attentive with them closed. Miriam had explained how to better communicate with Mom, which meant leaning in close to her to decipher her utterances. It helped…a little. While Razelle sat on the next bed I related to Mom once again the basic details of our trip and listed the countries we had visited. She raised her eyebrows to show she was impressed, but what she said was not clear. She asked where Razelle was because she couldn't see her. Razelle went to her bedside and spoke to her while she gently stroked Mom's face and neck. A blissful expression came over Mom's countenance. She loved the way it felt. Tactile stimulation was something she sorely missed.

Just then, a woman orderly came in and moved us away as she drew the curtains to change Mom's clothes and bedding. Razelle explained the dramatic effect that we'd witnessed when she stroked Mom's face and suggested it be done by the staff also. The orderly promised to pass this suggestion along to the nurses. We were not convinced she would, especially since she couldn't pronounce "tactile stimulation," so, when our visit was over shortly thereafter, we told the head nurse ourselves. As we bid Mom goodbye, with the thought in the back of our minds that this may be the last time we see her, Mom tried to detain us. She said she was lonely. I felt that deeply, but I couldn't tarry any longer here. I didn't want to lose control of my emotions.

We returned to the van and I sat silently for a while before I turned the key.

We then drove a short distance to Miriam's place of work. We told Miriam how our visit with Mom had transpired. Miriam then took us around to meet her co-workers, one of whom knew some Hebrew because he was a Lebanese man who had undergone lifesaving surgery in an Israeli hospital. This was a heartwarming story that has a moral to it. We appreciated hearing it.

We then went to Kohl's and successfully exchanged the T-shirt for one my size. We also checked out the "Bed, Bath and Beyond" store next to it. Razelle found some placemats for our table. She has been on the lookout for these the entire trip.

The graveyard where my father is buried is entirely across town. It was our ultimate stop before we departed from Toledo. I parked the van in the cemetery entrance. I took the snowball we'd collected from the Medicine Wheel on the spiritual mountaintop in Wyoming out of our van's freezer and walked with Razelle at my side to Dad's grave. His photographic image on his headstone smiled at me as I approached and placed half the snowball at the base of his headstone. The other half will go on Razelle's father's grave when we get to Connecticut.

I sat on the ground by the grave. Spontaneous words of emotion welled up as I spoke. The entire odyssey of our globe-circling journey led to this moment. These would be my last moments before leaving Toledo behind. I took Razelle to see three other graves before we left the cemetery. One belonged to Dina Markowicz, Phil Markowicz's daughter, who died too young; one belonged to Rabbi Fishel Pearlmutter, who counseled my father while he suffered, and one belonged to Ludmila Kagen, who was killed by a speeding car as she pushed her daughter out of its path.

We used our water jug to wash our hands, then I slowly steered the van into traffic and left the cemetery for Troy, OH.

We drove past Wapakaneta, OH, home of Neil Armstrong and the location of a museum devoted to him, situated right beside the highway. Had we not been behind schedule we might have paused here to see what it contained. As we got closer to Troy, we encountered road construction. Barriers on both the inner and outer shoulders of our two lanes of south-bound traffic hemmed us tightly together, but didn't slow us down. Passing trucks in this narrow defile was frightening with the van's loose steering and my knuckles were white from the effort. At one point we narrowed to one lane as we crawled past the wreckage of a vehicle that had collided with the left wall. Once past this obstacle, however, traffic returned to its frightening pace, as if nothing was to be learned from what we'd driven past.

In Troy, OH we stopped for cash at a bank, well after business hours. I simply walked up to the drive-through ATM machine and typed in the numbers. I didn't know what the maximum amount it would dispense might be, so, for the heck of it, I typed in $980. It spit out that entire amount! Will wonders never cease in this country? We will try not to spend it all in one place.

We finally reached Deryl and Carol's place. Deryl came out to greet us and directed us as we parked under his carport. We had room to spare under its roof, and an electrical outlet to plug our cord into. And it was level; perfect conditions for sleeping in it, if necessary. It was nice to be in Deryl and Carol's company. I was tired from all the driving, particularly the last part, so I listened as Razelle did most of the talking, recounting all that we had seen and done during this trip. Carol and Deryl are in the process of moving from this house in Troy to a house in Centerville, OH (considered to be part of Dayton). Deryl would sleep here tonight with us, but Carol had to sleep at the other place. Before she left us, she showed us her prized collection of snowman figures. Now we know what kind of gift Carol will appreciate receiving.

Because this house was half empty, due to their imminent move, the best arrangement for us was indeed to sleep in the van. Razelle and I looked forward to this after sleeping apart the past three nights in Toledo. The night air was cool and welcoming. I crawled under the quilt Wendy had given us in Minneapolis (thank you once again Wendy) and we turn out our lights in Troy.