When did you get on the wrong bus?

      The day after Thanksgiving we were on the road, again.  We were taking advantage of two days off from treatments for a holiday.  
      With half of his treatments completed, Admiral said “I don’t think the machine is turned on.  I don’t feel anything.  I don’t have any reactions.  I guess it’s working.  We’ll find out when it’s over, I reckon.  I haven’t  seen  Dr. Roundface since our first visit.  I did meet her associate last week. He seems very young. He’s alright since he’s interested in flying.” 
      The weekend was the big game in Blacksburg between Virginia and Virginia Tech, Admiral’s alma mater.   He had planned the trip, keeping details a secret to surprise me as they unfolded.  That’s a smart man who knows I love surprises!
      On the way we stopped at Auntie Anne’s, my BFF since kindergarten, for a short visit.  As we left, she whispered to me “ He’s a keeper.  I know something’s up.  Don’t let him get away. ”
      The trip to Blacksburg was quick, with memories of taking my daughter there years ago.  Admiral told tales of his life with his Model A and various roomies during his 4 years.
      Tech’s Virginia Inn was comfy, the lobby filled with decorated Christmas trees, reminding us that Christmas was on the horizon.  The fire in the lobby’s fireplace was toasty and where we and guests stayed for the greater part of the evening, warming ourselves and chatting about the trip there and tomorrow’s game.
      Game day was clear, bright and windy, as only it can be in Blacksburg.  Spotting a bus in front of the hotel, we climbed aboard.  Everyone wore big important looking badges.  As we talked to the passengers, we found out we were on the bus for the Board of Visitors, there for a big deal meeting and to enjoy the game!  Of course, the bus ride was fast to Lane Stadium, with all traffic stopped for quick turns and easy access right to the main entrance! 
      Eventually we found the Engineering sky box on the top floor.  It was packed with people of all ages and styles of warm dress.   Snacks were plentiful and filling.  The game was exciting.   The more touchdowns we scored against Miami, the better we liked it and the more we cheered, making strangers more comfortable with each other.   A final score of 31 – 17 was splendid, inducing high fives among the crowd.
      Fans leaving the stadium always look like how I imagine immigrants looked landing on Ellis Island.  We were two of thousands streaming to the parking lots.   At the main gate the only sight of a bus was its back end roaring off into the distance.  Soon we lucked into a classmate’s tail gate party where we warmed up with a toddy and ham biscuit with classmates and more school day stories.  It's a wonder any of them made it to class, let alone to graduation and successful careers.
      We said so long and walked uphill to the main road where city buses lined a distant curb.  Admiral walked up to a policeman and asked for directions to get back to the Inn.  I wasn’t believing this -  a man asking directions! 
      “I forgot what the guy said.  Let’s get on this bus. The driver will tell us how to get to the hotel.” Admiral said as we boarded a bus, trusting it was going our way.  
      Sure enough, when we got off where the driver directed us, the hotel was visible. The driver said it was 2 blocks, looking more like 20 miles to us.  We walked fast into the raw wind, Admiral pulling me along to keep pace with his rapid steps.  At the hotel, I beat him to the fire.
      Admiral’s 4-year college career was varied.  He played in the Highty Tighties, managed and played bass in his bluegrass band, and played other musical gigs anywhere he could get paid.  The stories of events entertained me for hours.  Relationships made then he continues to this day with visits and chats when he’s in the area. 
      The next day was clear, without wind.  Off we went on an adventure to visit places and people Admiral knew during his gigs years ago.    “I’m taking you to church today.” he said as we left the hotel. “I can find the little country church, I’m sure.  Things don’t change much in the boondocks.” he added.
      A  twisting road  at 40 and plum (40 miles out and plum in the sticks) ended at Mountain Lake Hotel, where the movie Dirty Dancing was filmed.   Admiral rolled in laughter as he relived  leaving a gig there. 
      It was dark and cold. The car was full of guys and instruments, with the bass tied to the front of the car, obstructing his view as he drove down the curving mountain road through snow.   He said “I never told Mom about these things.  Guess I didn’t tie the bass on very well because it fell off.  We looked over the side of the road and never found it.”
      “Oh, oh.  It’s time for church. Let’s roll.” he hollered as he ran out the door of the resort to the car.  I could see him driving that old Model A down that mountain road while he ran it too fast for my comfort. Finally he stopped at a church.  It was a typical country church – white, steeple with cross on top, pointed front doors, a few large windows and several cars parked on the lawn around it.  Yet it was no ordinary church.  It was the one that Admiral had gone to when the Porters befriended him in the last century.   
      The service was underway when we entered, seeing 25 mostly elderly people scattered about the small room.  As heads turned to see who the late arrivals were, we settled on the back row to be unobtrusive.  
      To the right of the chancel a large screen and the latest projector were suspended from the ceiling.  “Hum, the preacher looks to be about 35ish and I guess he’s tech savvy.  There’s some high powered tech stuff here. Wonder if he’ll use powerpoint for his sermon. ” I thought. 
      While I was unwrapping my layers of warm outer wear,  I heard Admiral snicker under his breath.  He poked me and pointed at the screen.   In giant letters were  WHY DO SANTA DO WHAT SANTA DO?

What makes you lose your mind?

      Thanksgiving Day is a funny day.  As a single woman I’ve done all kinds of things to enjoy a day filled with families coming together, laughing and having a good time, supposedly.  For some it’s sad.  For others it’s exciting.  This Thanksgiving was going to be memorable, as most of my first time events with Admiral were.
      His family tradition is for him to carve the turkey and ham at his sister’s annual family feast.   I was on review before the family clan of thousands – a true acid test, if ever there is.
      Her present was wrapped and ready to go days earlier.  Nothing like bringing a nice gift to make a good impression.
      With great anticipation Thanksgiving Day arrived and it was a full day.  Long before I met Admiral friend Ann and I had committed to be host volunteers at the Community Dinner.  Duties there would end about 2 so I’d be free for the rest of the day.  Knowing this his sister generously would hold dinner until we arrived about 3ish.
      As Admiral and I drove through the woods and over the hills on narrow country roads, our conversation covered tales of being river rats (a term for children from Richmond who spent summers messing about on the water) and names and relations of attendees – his sister, nieces, nephews, cousins, and any friends who showed up.  I was confident I’d get three names right, especially since one was his sister, whom I’d already met.  Coaching, while he hunted for a place to park,  about who owned the cars in the driveway  at his sister’s house was invaluable.
      His sister greeted me at the door with a big hug and “Welcome. We’re so glad you’re here.  Everyone wants to meet you.”
      I replied “Happy Turkey Day. You’re so kind to include me and I really appreciate you holding dinner for us.   I have a gift for you and I forgot it.  When your brother gets near me,  everything goes out of my head.”