Mom Saves the Day (Again)

Here’s a story about my mom. We moved to Richmond, Indiana, from Mansfield, Ohio, in July 1969, so my dad could take a job as Innkeeper at the Richmond Holiday Inn. I was just about to turn nine years old.

We left Mansfield the same day that Neil, Buzz, and Michael lifted off for the moon. I was moving away from my first real friends and life in a very-Bradyesque neighborhood. We moved into the Townehouse Village Apartments just off of East Main Street in Richmond.

It must have not taken long for Mom to notice I was lonely, probably moping a bit about having to move and missing my friends. Here are two things about Mom: She paid attention and she didn’t think long about problems before working on a solution.

In this case, the solution involved organizing the neighborhood kids up and down our street for a day hike across the field behind our apartment complex into Glen Miller Park. There must have been nearly a dozen kids, most of whom I hadn’t met. I’m not sure if Mom went house to house, meeting the other parents, finding out if they had kids near my age to organize the hike, but I can sure imagine this. 

It was a sunshine-filled day and the tall trees in the park provided cool relief. I remember hiking a ridge trail over a dry creek bed at the northeast end of the park. We reached the end of the trail and wondered where we’d go next. Mom showed us the way, sliding down the steep bank on her backside to the creek bed. We followed, laughing and hollering. All these years later, that memory gives me a thrill and a smile. I can feel my nine-year-old self gliding down that hill.

I walked into that park a lonely kid and walked out with a passel of new friends, thanks to Mom. Thanks, Mom. 

Thanks, Mom, for always blazing the trail for me.