‘Freeways, cars and trucks’
“Well my time went so quickly,
I went lickety-splickly out to my old ’55
As I drove away slowly, feeling so holy,
God knows, I was feeling alive.
Now the sun’s coming up,
I’m riding with Lady Luck,
freeway cars and trucks,
Stars beginning to fade,
and I lead the parade
Just a-wishing I’d stayed a little longer,
Oh, Lord, let me tell you
that the feeling’s getting stronger.
And it’s six in the morning,
gave me no warning; I had to be on my way.
Well there’s trucks all a-passing me,
and the lights are all flashing,
I’m on my way home from your place.
And now the sun’s coming up,
I’m riding with Lady Luck,
freeway cars and trucks,
Stars beginning to fade,
and I lead the parade
Just a-wishing I’d stayed a little longer,
Oh, Lord, let me tell you
that the feeling’s getting stronger.
And my time went so quickly,
I went lickety-splickly out to my old ’55
As I pulled away slowly, feeling so holy,
God knows, I was feeling alive.
Now the sun’s coming up,
I’m riding with Lady Luck,
Freeway cars and trucks,
freeway cars and trucks,
freeway cars and trucks…”
— Tom Waits, “Ol’ 55” — (covered by Sarah McLachlan in 1995)
Went back to Pittsburgh this weekend and am dealing with a mixed bag of emotions right now about it.
First of all, I’ve been sick for a week and am feeling no better. But I needed this trip. Had to see the family — god knows when it’s going to be the last time you hug them, given their frail health and general lack of wanting to live this life any longer.
I’ve come to enjoy the drive — I’m still a bit of a tense driver, but the scenery was just beautiful. Throughout Pennsylvania, the leaves — which are in plentiful supply — had already begun turning crimson, orange and yellow. The trees in Virginia that aren’t brown and/or dead from dry weather are still green.
Made it a point to actually go into Pittsburgh instead of just hanging out in the ‘burbs. Drove to the South Side with Wobin on Sunday, went to Fat Heads South Shore Saloon, which has the best damn food on the planet, and then we drove up to Mount Washington for old times’ sake. Went past my old apartment, where there used to be a life-size Garfield, which Wobin had made out of construction paper for me. The new tenant had some stupid “Happy Halloween” doo-dad on my door. I know my strange next-door neighbor Tom had kidnapped Garfield, to give him a home because I had been planning to drag him to the curb, along with most of my clothes, books and furniture during those hellacious moving days.
At any rate, I took Wobin to my favorite place on earth, Grandview Park. It’s a tiny park, one that you’d miss it if you blinked, but it has one overlook where you can get the best panoramic view of my old city. I stood there and just sobbed. I realize that the city will always be there for me when I go back, and that’s a big thing for me. Not a building was out of place (post-911 jitters — when I lived there, I always checked the skyline every day and was grateful that it was still intact), nothing seemed different. Only I was different, the oddity. I haven’t explored my new city all that much, but all I can say is that my old city seemed smaller than I remembered it to be. But it was just as beautiful and inviting. The people were so much friendlier and, well, the people who love me most still live there.
It was so hard, being with my family. I love them and will forever admire them for all that they sacrificed (and continue to sacrifice) for me — they would literally give me their last dollars, even if that means that they do without something that they need. My grandfather was all bandaged and bruised from several recent surgeries, yet he handed me some money that he’d hidden away (even from my mother) because he worries that I drive the car on fumes sometimes, waiting till payday to fill it up. Told me to go out and buy myself a good meal at a restaurant instead of trying to make do with whatever I have in the house. And he wouldn’t let me refuse to take it, even though we all know he needs it more than I ever will.
That reminded me of my grandmother, when she was alive, because she would always make sure I had something in my hand when I left from a visit with her. She always made my mom set aside a particular amount from her meager Social Security check for me. She was someone who loved to go shopping and had to have the newest and best of everything, and when she became incapacitated in her final years, it was her joy to know that I could afford to buy pretty things for myself, thanks to her.
And then there’s my mom, who would do anything and then some for me. She baked two little loaves of banana bread (my favorite) an hour before I left the house yesterday (one for me and one for IKEA Boy, to say thank-you to him for letting me sneak away from Virginia for a long weekend) — and she wouldn’t let me leave the house without those. I wish her life were better, and I feel like at my age, I should be helping her out and not the reverse. I feel like I am her twin, though, and not her daughter. Our relationship was always more of a friendship than a mother-daughter interaction. I love that sometimes, I don’t have to say a word, and she knows exactly what’s going on in my head. She feels like we’re losing that ability over the miles, but I think it’s stronger than ever.
I don’t know. Emotional days. First drug-free weekend in three weeks — gaaah!!! That’s when I needed it most!!! lol.
I don’t see myself staying in Virginia for too long, but I suppose I brought back a brand-new appreciation for it. I drove around for a couple of hours yesterday before I went back to the abode. Maddie didn’t even complain all that much — she shut up after we crossed the Mason-Dixon line and only howled when I hit 65 and 75 mph, keeping us out of a ticket, I suppose. lol. I decided that it’s okay to both hate and love my old life, as well as hate and love my new life. And if I could just combine the best elements of the two worlds, I’d be set … and perhaps I can do that, in yet another city. Could I go back to Pgh? Possibly — because I’m already more worldly in certain respects, and I am satisfied with my quick venture into the great unknown. But life has got to get even better than this, and if I would remove the worries about finances, I’d be so much happier here, I know it. Changes keep happening, both good and bad, and I have to keep remembering to roll with the punches instead of trying to fight back. Sometimes, you’ve got to let life flow, even when it sucks, because that just means the rainbow is that much more vibrant when you finally see it.
Before I went on the Turnpike headed home to Virginia, I stopped at my old bank and closed my account … the one I’ve had since I was four years old. It was sad, the finality. I only had two bucks in the account anyway, but it was kind of like closing a chapter of my life.
But Pittsburgh will always be in my heart. No question about that. D.C. isn’t an area where people stay for very long. But Pittsburgh is, and it — and the people in it — will remain embedded within you, even when you think you’ve left it behind.