Sandy Lake

Marilyn is my mother-in-law. I met her when I was 18 years old. She is eccentric, opinionated, and old-fashioned. She appreciates my love of the lost arts of quilting, knitting and baking from scratch. I appreciate the fact that she has always accepted me with open arms and an open mind. The open mind bit is key - after all, her son and I did make her a grandma shortly after I met her.

Marilyn graduated from Sandy Lake High School in 1952. I had always known her to speak fondly of this small town west of Pittsburgh all the years I've known her. I learned about the gas station that her father owned and the small school she attended. I often tried to rummage up a visual in my mind's eye as she was telling me about her hometown. It was always a cross between Leave it to Beaver's street and Walnut Grove. She got an invitation to her 60th high school reunion. Sandy Lake is 450 miles away and Marilyn no longer has a driver's license.

"I can take you." I suggested. At first, she refused. It was too far. She couldn't ask me to do that. Well, she didn't ask - I offered. Perhaps I am just as opinionated as she because I won the argument. So on Friday we embarked on our trek - Marilyn, my kids, and I - to grandma's hometown.

When we arrived in Sandy Lake, Marilyn started pointing out landmarks and reclaiming her childhood memories. "That is the house I lived in from the age of five to 13. Oh, look! The elephant vine is still crawling up the side of the house! There's Dad's old gas station. That building was the Village Inn. Oh, my - they've gone and moved the post office! That's the street where my good friend Jessie lived..." This is why I wanted to take this trip.

We entered the reunion hall and were greeted enthusiastically by a lot of white-haired ladies. "How lovely of you to bring Marilyn - we are so glad you're here!" It was amusing to watch everyone milling around and taking hard glances at one another before unashamedly requiring to read each other's name tags in order to identify each other! There is no shame in aging in this crowd! They joked about their false teeth and orthopedic supports. We sat with Susie, Bob, Willa, and Mary. The evening was full of laughter and old stories. We heard about Leroy rolling the '29 Ford in the creek. Susie offered to have them all walk back to her house, the closest. At the sight of the muddy crew, her mom cussed, which she never did before! We heard about the time Miss Luft, their teacher, tucked her skirt into her bloomers. They said Henry, being punished in the front row, got the best view. We heard about Bill's brother Bob daring him to jump in the shallow creek and that when he did it they didn't know if he'd survived, but he did, though he was skinned chin to toe. We heard about the country road races and their senior trip to the nation's capitol where no one stayed in their rooms as they were told. It made me think differently about the older generation - hearing all the stories of teenage angst, rebellion, and recklessness. It made me realize that just because someone is old-fashioned doesn't mean they're conservative. They knew how to raise a ruckus back then! They also spoke freely of their classmates that were gone now, like they had simply gone to the store. "Oh, she's gone. Last year. Her husband, too. How about him? Oh, he's still around, up at Hillside Nursing Home. Lost his wife, though." You might think that this conversation would be depressing, but surprisingly it was not. It was real and honest and, for lack of a better word - friendly. What better way to honor their classmates memory than to remember them with roll call at the high school reunion?

My kids listened intently the whole evening. Evan, being used to working the coffee hour crowd at our church each Sunday, courteously offered to serve all the ladies tea. They all fell in love with him, of course! He loves old ladies and will tell you so. Sandy Lake is a lot like my town:  small, rural, full of lore. My daughter will be a senior in high school in September. We left the reunion and I asked her what she thought. "I loved it. I loved the stories. It makes me wonder what stories we'll tell at my high school reunion." This is why I wanted to take this trip.

We visited Marilyn's parents grave. My kids saw their great-grandparents' names on the stone. We felt connected. We felt like we had a pull in this town. We had roots here. My kids are the great-grandkids of the guy who owned the gas station at the traffic light. It felt good. This is why I wanted to take this trip.

On the drive home the next day, I used many of the early hours of the eight-hour car ride to interview Marilyn about her life. We had just visited where it began and we know her presently - but there was a long stretch in between that I was curious about. She told me about her life after high school and before becoming a wife and mother - a full ten years of living single! She became an independent, career woman working at a steel mill as an accounts secretary. She enjoyed going out with coworkers to movies and restaurants. One day she met a man who asked her out and they started courting. Yes, she said courting. That man eventually became her husband and my husband's dad. They moved to New York and started a family when she was 36 years old. It was atypical in her era to delay starting a family. But then again, why would I expect anything different? She is eccentric, opinionated and old-fashioned.