Donna and Gary’s (Almost) Big Adventure
The early morning light shone dimly through our kitchen window as I walked over to the stove. I slid the bottom drawer open. Inside was everything I needed. One by one I carried all of our pots and pans and their assorted lids to the living room, arranging them just so. I went back and grabbed a couple serving spoons out of the drawer. I was ready.
I’m not sure that I had even completed my first full measure of drumming when my dad came flying around the corner; shock, dismay, and frustration all vying for position on his face. He was clearly not as impressed with my daybreak musical performance as I was. Before I could strike another beat, his anger spilled out all over my well-intentioned little heart. In tears, I retreated to my bedroom.
Apparently, very early on a Sunday morning while mom, dad, and three siblings are still asleep, is not the best time to practice steel-pan drumming. This is especially true when all of those humans are sharing a half-renovated, 500 square foot apartment with paper-thin walls and curtains serving as bedroom doors. Somehow, at seven years old, I had failed to consider that.
Nonetheless, by the time everyone was up for breakfast, my sulking had turned to strategy. I had determined that in order to avoid another painful morning like this one I needed to take drastic action - I was going to run away from home. Being somewhat of a planner, I had already chosen my new residence. I would live in the woods behind the drive-in theater just outside of town. I mean, what could be better than that? I’d have the freedom to do whatever I wanted, as early as I wanted AND… unlimited movies and popcorn.
I proceeded to fill a bag with essentials: a small blanket, my blue plastic wallet (which happened to have a few dollars in it), a coloring book, a handful of crayons, and a butter knife. The butter knife was the closest thing to a weapon I could find and I was obviously going to need something to hunt my food. Those squirrels weren’t going to kill and skin themselves.
After breakfast, I confidently announced to my parents that I was leaving, moving out. They barely acknowledged my radical statement, likely thinking I was just mad and looking for attention.
With my travel bag in hand, I headed out the door and down the stairs, but as I reached the bottom I stopped, struck with the realization that my running-away plan had one big flaw - at the drive-in I would be all alone.
So, I did what any needy, self-respecting, seven year old runaway would do, I went back upstairs and asked my four year old sister, Donna, if she wanted to go with me. She seemed interested in my plan and quickly said yes. So, we put another small blanket into the bag and off we went, out the front door and down the sidewalk along the main street. I held her hand as we walked, excited about our new adventure.
As we passed the post office I felt a slight twinge of guilt, thinking that maybe this wasn’t such a good idea and assured that my parents would be pretty upset if they knew the full scope of my plan. I determined that maybe we should take a less noticeable route. We turned left just before downtown and continued our journey in the alley that ran behind all of the stores and restaurants.
Unbeknownst to us, my mom, surprised that I had made good on my promise and aware that I had now involved my sister, commissioned our ten year old brother to follow us in case we ventured too far. He grabbed his bike and headed out, but, because we had ducked into the alley, wasn’t able to see which direction we went. He would spend the next hour racing around town to all the places he thought we might go, but returned home empty handed to our increasingly worried parents.
A few blocks later Donna and I emerged from the alley, back onto the main street. We walked down the hill past the park and the library and across the short bridge over the river. This was typically about as far as I would ever go from home. Beyond this point was a part of town I had never explored. I had only observed it through the window of a car but I knew it was the way to our destination. Somewhere up ahead was the drive-in theater that promised freedom and adventure. So we pressed on.
A little farther up the street, I realized that I had failed to bring anything to eat or drink. We spotted a small convenience store. It looked more like an old, run-down house than a store, but it was the only thing nearby so we went in. The man behind the counter said hello as we made our way to the cooler. Donna and I agreed that a can of Dr. Pepper would be the best choice, although I’m not sure that either one of us had ever had tasted one before.
We grabbed a small pack of peanuts and headed to the counter. I remember feeling all grown up. Out on my own, making my own decisions, paying my own way, taking care of my sister. I put the items on the counter along with a couple dollars. As the man was ringing up our goods, he peered over at my sister, standing there innocently.
“What are you guys up to?” he asked.
My heart sunk. I hadn’t imagined that anyone would question us. I mean it’s pretty normal for two young kids to be in a new part of town, buying snacks while carrying a bag full of blankets, right? But this man seemed concerned. I had to respond quickly before Donna let our real intentions slip.
“We’re going hiking!” I offered with as much sincerity as I could muster.
Donna nodded in agreement. I couldn’t tell if the clerk was satisfied. He looked back at me.
“I haven’t seen you in here before. What’s your name?”
I figured there was no harm in telling him. When he heard my last name he smiled.
“Are you related to Jimmy?”
Everybody knew Jimmy. He was my dad’s younger brother who lived downstairs with our grandma. He had been the bartender at the big hotel by the river for as long as I could remember.
“Yes, he’s our uncle,” I said proudly.
It felt good to be associated with someone who was so widely known and liked. With that I quickly grabbed my change and ushered Donna out the door before the man could ask any more questions.
We continued down the sidewalk past the large, turn-of-the-century homes that were common on this end of town. I don’t remember much conversation between my sister and I. I was focused on keeping us moving. She seemed to be just taking everything in. If she had any concerns about our unfolding adventure, she didn’t share them.
Is wasn’t long before we ran out of sidewalk. We stopped in the gravel driveway in front of a small motel. This seemed like a point of no return. We were now over a mile from home. The stone archway that marked the city limits was just ahead. The main street we had followed was now a two-lane country highway that snaked its way out of town.
My thoughts of whether to continue on or head back were interrupted by the sight of a car pulling up right next to us. Behind the wheel of the familiar, blue, four-door Impala was our father. My heart sank. I braced myself for the worst. He walked around the car and opened the back door without saying a word. Donna and I climbed in.
The ride home was completely silent. Though I feared that my father’s anger would erupt any second, I sensed from him something different, relief maybe. We pulled into driveway and obeyed his orders to go upstairs to our mom.
Dad didn’t follow.
To this day I don’t know what was going through his mind at that point. Regret for being so hard on me earlier that morning? Angst over what harm might have come to us had we continued on out of town? Most definitely, gratefulness for the call Uncle Jimmy received from the concerned convenience store clerk.
Mom was thrilled to see us, telling us how worried she had been and that she was glad we were back home. The warm welcome didn’t last long, however. Her eyes met mine and I could see that I wouldn’t escape this experience without receiving a lesson. In all fairness, I deserved every bit of punishment that I received. I can’t imagine the agony she and dad were feeling while we were happily trekking our way across town.
In addition to a passionate lecture and a firm spanking, my wallet and other travel supplies were confiscated. I think Donna got the peanuts and my last dollar. Thankfully, I had the mind to hide the Dr. Pepper under my bed while I waited on my punishment. My sister never let me forget that I didn’t share it with her. It was one of the many bad decisions I made that day.
Donna and I never did make it to that drive-in theater and experience the thrill of living on our own in the woods, eating popcorn and fresh squirrel, and watching all the latest movies; but it did give us a fun story to share and laugh about for years to come.
I look forward to that day when we can be together again and set out on a brand new big adventure.
~~
In memory: Donna Marie (Weldon) Louis, September 3, 1973 - January 30, 2022
I remember you telling us the story and since I know the town I could envision you trip. Your mom and dad must have been very worried.
Thanks for sharing.
This is a wonderfully written story. Several mentions of feelings, suspense and emotions. The part about the store is assurance that God had your back at that early age.