Heading Home
by
Gerry Niskern
Are you planning on flying home for Christmas? Millions of travelers are planning their schedules, checking their flights daily. Everything could change in a minute with the powerful winter storm barreling across the U. S. It’s tough.
I’m reminded of a trip our family made to see both families in West Virginia in December of l946. The war was over and gasoline had been released to the public again. People were overjoyed. They could make the trek home once again to enjoy the love, warmth and share family memories. Air travel wasn’t even considered for most.
The trip from Phoenix to the Ohio River Valley took five days. We were lucky. Dad drove our little four door black Plymouth thru bitter cold states with snow on the ground but no storms. We did break down in Brownsville, Texas, and had to spend the day waiting for the local garage to get the part needed from another town.
I remember singing carols along with the radio to pass the time. “The Old Lamp Lighter” accompanied us towards home. We made it to Moundsville by Christmas.
I also remember my cousins taking me roller skating every evening. There was a rink in every town and we hit them all. “Couples only” was fun and they played “Christmas Island” always for that round.
We walked back to my Grandma’s from the local rink sometimes and spent the evenings listening to the adults recalling family stories while watching the purple, red, yellow and blue flumes sputtering from the coal fire in the grate.
Bad weather was threatening the morning we headed home. Mother nature was getting serious now. A young friend of my sisters was going to ride to Phoenix with us. She was going to begin nurses training at St. Joseph’s Hospital so Dad had extra responsibility heading West.
He took the Southern route, but my vivid memories were of driving thru snow flurries and the radio announcer telling us it was 106* as we drove into Dallas, Texas. Around midnight we were looking for a motel, the vision was bad, and suddenly the blinding light of a train coming around a bend was bearing down on us. Dad stepped on the gas and we shot across the tracks.
The next morning our somber group drove on across the rest of Texas and New Mexico as we saw cars stuck in snow banks everywhere . I have to think that Dad’s experience driving on the icy roads with “hair pin turns” in the West Virginia hills had prepared him for that icy highway home.
The “Old Lamp Lighter” was still with us as we crossed into Arizona and headed into the sunshine of home.