Out From Under

I was seven when my father abandoned our family. The original explanation for his absence was that he was on a business trip. I was too young to know that there weren't any conventions for local disco owners. I think at the time that this took place my mother knew he wasn't coming back. I believe she also had discovered that he took every dime we had with him. I did not know these things then but a heaviness had descended upon my mother, my little sister and myself. A wet blanket we couldn't get out from under.

One day my mother announced we were going on a road trip from our hometown of Kenosha, Wisconsin to St. Paul, Minnesota to visit my aunt away at college. Not only that, but one of our favorite friends of the family, Steve, would be joining us. It seemed decadent to me. Like we were somehow breaking the rules by also leaving the state.

I was told that from the moment I was old enough to comprehend that there were places outside of Kenosha to see, live and be, that I wanted to go there. Anywhere and everywhere. I will never forget the release of that drive. I saw my mother laugh and smile again, cracking up at Steve's jokes as they split a six pack along the way- drinking and driving and open containers of alcohol being barely illegal in the 70's. Also totally legal? No seatbelts or car seats for the kids! I remember my sister and I standing up in the backseat of that 2 door Honda hatchback, holding onto the headrests in front of us, swaying back and forth with the wind blowing in our faces, singing along to Mac Davis' , "It's Hard to be Humble". It was freedom, and for a moment, we were out from under the blanket.