Take Me Back to Old Wapakoneta

My grandma lived in a trailer park in Wapakoneta, Ohio.

Mom's back. Grandma's talking.

Not her whole life, mind you, just the last 25 years or so.

By that time, I was in junior high school, so it was just my parents and the three youngest siblings who did the regular visits.

I'm not sure why this came to mind this morning, except it's Saturday morning, and our treks almost always took place this time of the week. Of course, we'd be well on our way if that were the case, because my dad insisted we leave at 6:00 a.m. Sharp. No lollygagging allowed.

Denise and I would put the seat down in the back of Old Blue, the '66 Chevy Impala station wagon that served as our chariot to Wapakoneta. (Or "Wapak," as the locals call it.)  Since we couldn't read (chronic car sickness), we would listen to our transistor radios or hum tunes to one another and play "Name that Tune."

Paul had the middle seat to himself. (He didn't have to sit on the hump, like I did when all six sibs rode the rails.)

Once we arrived, my parents would have a cup of java with grandma, while Paul and I headed out to the "lake" (pond) that was there for the enjoyment of the entire trailer park.

A baby fish for my baby brother.

Later, my parents would tackle the list of  to-do's Grandma had amassed for them since our last visit.

And in the evening, we would sit around the kitchen table and play "Kings," a card game I've never encountered anywhere else. In the background, Grandma would have the TV on, and we'd listen to Pop Goes the Country and Hee Haw. (I've only recently acquired a taste for some country music.)

Wapakoneta is home to the Neil Armstrong Space Museum. I used to ask Grandma if she changed Neil Armstrong's diapers when he was a baby. (Cue eyeroll and exasperated, "No.")

Or I'd ask her if she was going to marry her boyfriend. ("Now why would I take on another man at my age? I had a lot of good years with your grandpa before he had his stroke, but I don't want to be nursing some old man at this stage of my life.")

As I grew into a surly teenager, I began wishing for the day when I'd be old enough to stay home. Wapakoneta was bo-ring. Nothing exciting to do. All those hours driving in the car.

Teenagers are assholes. I know, I was one of them.

These days, I wish I could get in the Wayback Machine and play Kings at Grandma's kitchen table.

I wouldn't even mind listening to the Grand Ole Opry.

Ducks eying the "lake"