Beth
Recently I've been having a bout of reminiscence. You see it's been playing out in all sorts of peculiar ways such as my last post. Last week I drove to my parents' house by going down Morgan Road to Wilsure to Piedmont Road to Cornwell. There is never anyone on Morgan and on Wilsure at 12:30 a.m. So many times I'd return down that road from OKC to Yukon and collect my thoughts. Such places become holy to an individual because they represent so many ideas that you developed in your life. Driving is a place to think and, therefore, where you drive is where you think.
"Well, one time Beth and I," my mother would always begin and then start giggling. She'd laugh for another five minutes before she could finally get the story out. Beth was my mother's childhood friend. Neither of them were highly responsible in their youth and so the stories they created are legendary. The most famous is the hitchhiking story. I think my mom said they were fifteen when they decided to go from Denver, Colorado to Amarillo, Texas. So, like any reckless pair of youth, they decided to hitchhike there. From seeing the severed thumb of a truck driver to spending a period of time in jail, the story carries a mythic quality to it. Nobody really does that, do they?
Apparently they do.
It's been over a decade since I last saw Beth. She never really seemed like a real person to me because her presence in my life was only brought through my mother's stories. She was in Norman tonight and my family met up with her. It was bizarre sitting there and realizing that she looked like an average human being. I could have seen her at Wal-mart and I would have never known the difference. But in my mind Beth represented courage, recklessness, adventure, mischievousness, laughter mixed in with a little stupidity. She wasn't a person, she was a lifestyle that for so long I had never engaged in.
Before we left to meet up with them tonight, my mom said, "Watch her. This is what Cassidy will be like when she's 40." Cassidy, of course, is my hippie, free-spirited roommate who stands in stark contradiction to my more conservative and intellectual way of living. She has also been the sort of influence to encourage me to be a little more free-spirited. I watched Beth, and my mother was absolutely right. I watched my mom and Beth laugh about things they had done. I realized that that was what I wanted. I want to remember things about my life that make me laugh. I realized that I have been creating that with my friend Cassidy and other people I've begun knowing throughout college in much the same way my mother has done with Beth. The Beth ideal, which had for so long been incubating and festering in my realm of desire, has finally broke loose in my life. It's broken loose in a slightly more intelligent and responsible way, but nevertheless, it is very much here and in action on a day to day basis.
So, thank you, Beth, for the spirit that you bequeathed to my existence. It will always be remembered with smile.
"Well, one time Beth and I," my mother would always begin and then start giggling. She'd laugh for another five minutes before she could finally get the story out. Beth was my mother's childhood friend. Neither of them were highly responsible in their youth and so the stories they created are legendary. The most famous is the hitchhiking story. I think my mom said they were fifteen when they decided to go from Denver, Colorado to Amarillo, Texas. So, like any reckless pair of youth, they decided to hitchhike there. From seeing the severed thumb of a truck driver to spending a period of time in jail, the story carries a mythic quality to it. Nobody really does that, do they?
Apparently they do.
It's been over a decade since I last saw Beth. She never really seemed like a real person to me because her presence in my life was only brought through my mother's stories. She was in Norman tonight and my family met up with her. It was bizarre sitting there and realizing that she looked like an average human being. I could have seen her at Wal-mart and I would have never known the difference. But in my mind Beth represented courage, recklessness, adventure, mischievousness, laughter mixed in with a little stupidity. She wasn't a person, she was a lifestyle that for so long I had never engaged in.
Before we left to meet up with them tonight, my mom said, "Watch her. This is what Cassidy will be like when she's 40." Cassidy, of course, is my hippie, free-spirited roommate who stands in stark contradiction to my more conservative and intellectual way of living. She has also been the sort of influence to encourage me to be a little more free-spirited. I watched Beth, and my mother was absolutely right. I watched my mom and Beth laugh about things they had done. I realized that that was what I wanted. I want to remember things about my life that make me laugh. I realized that I have been creating that with my friend Cassidy and other people I've begun knowing throughout college in much the same way my mother has done with Beth. The Beth ideal, which had for so long been incubating and festering in my realm of desire, has finally broke loose in my life. It's broken loose in a slightly more intelligent and responsible way, but nevertheless, it is very much here and in action on a day to day basis.
So, thank you, Beth, for the spirit that you bequeathed to my existence. It will always be remembered with smile.
posted by Jesi E. at 3/19/2006 08:54:00 PM
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