After yesterday's exciting decision to move to WV for a while, sometime in the next month or so, naturally such an insane harebrained wacky intriguing idea hasn't moved far from my mind. I need to start making those lists my daddy suggested. To make sure I don't forget something really important. Instead I've been hyper-focusing on such questions as:
- Just how fast of an internet connection will I be able to get up there in those mountains? and
- Shouldn't I probably plan for such possible inconveniences as lost electricity during a winter storm? and
- Will I even remember how to get around this town where I haven't been in over 10 years, and then only for a couple of days? and
- Am I out of my ever loving mind? Extroverts don't move to mountain mining towns to "get away for a while." They turn off their phones and don't go out for a couple of days!
- Should I get a dog to make me feel safer? (Granddaddy suggested a gun. They require less attention than pets, but eek, guns!)
The internet question had me really thinking, earlier today, and I decided to hunt down somebody who could maybe help me answer the question during a weekend, non-business-hours kind of time slot. Since the bulk of the people I know in the neighborhood are related to a guy I dated 22 years ago, I decided maybe it would be best not to just start calling them up out of the blue.
Then I remembered another friend. Sure, except for that one time in my early 20's that lasted only for about 30 minutes, I haven't spent any good quality time with this woman since I had yet to hit puberty. Is it weird to call a childhood friend and start quizzing her about technological conveniences? I decided that it's just fine, and so I hunted down her number and gave her a call. It occurred to me that the person who is, in fact, responsible for your knowing what "French kiss" even means would likely not think it odd at all if you called to ask an ordinary question about internet access.
She wasn't in, so I left my number. But that led me to made up conversations in my head. Imaginary scenarios between the adult versions of the little girls who were nearly inseparable all those years ago, every summer. What do friends talk about when they haven't hung out in this many years? I thought about her family. About her sisters. About one sister in particular. Which is where I got the sentence I referred to in the title of this blog post. The question. I imagined asking my childhood friend the following:
Was your sister the person my grandfather aimed a gun at the time he got arrested and kept overnight in jail when I was in college?
And that, my darlings, is not at all fabricated. Of course the story itself is probably less interesting than the sentence itself, and my mom is going to totally freak out that I wrote this in my blog, since her father was generally quite dignified and agreeable. Nonetheless, it's true. My Papa got arrested for something he said he didn't do. (But he knew as well as I did that he did, and later on when he was much older, he admitted it, too, and laughed about it, asking what was the big deal, anyway?) I'm going to live in the home of my grandparents who had a habit of sometimes waving guns around, and stuff.
Wonder what other kinds of memories are going to emerge between now and when this little adventure of mine is all said and done? Stay tuned. If my mom doesn't pull the plug on this whole thing to punish me for such blog candor, I'll bet they're gonna' be interesting ones!