I don't remember the year. My life in Michigan was a constant fight with the world, a constant struggle, much of it is remembered by events that have to be linked together, rather than dates. It's a sad admission - especially for someone who remembers dates. But, it's nothing I can remedy.
I do know that I had the gold Honda and I was dating Emil. That puts me working at the Saturn Retail Facility - they were never referred to as something so common as a car dealership! I began working there shortly after my 30th birthday (1993) and left, I think in 1998. Again, the associations... 911 happened just after I started at the University of Detroit Mercy, subtract 2 years for community college, which I started in January... that must have been 1999.
I'm going to be so much fun when I'm a rambling old woman in a nursing home!
For arguments sake, we'll say the year was 1994.
It was 1994. I'd been divorced since Christmas 1989. I met Emil in 1993 and we began dating somewhere in 1994. He was newly divorced. We each had two sons. All four boys were close in age - a two year span from the eldest to the youngest. All four were skinny, leggy, and sandy haired. Emil and I are short, with dark hair. The boys got along like the best of friends - and they were all well behaved. That's not mis-memory or wishful thinking. They really were! My boys adored Emil. His boys nicknamed me SuzyQ. I'm sure they had a reason. I'm sure neither of us knows what that reason was! But, they seemed to enjoy my company.
Emil and I lived in separate homes in metro Detroit. My ex-husband lived nearby and saw our two sons every day. Emil's wife remarried and took their two sons to the middle of the Upper Peninsular of Michigan, a distance of 360 miles. But she determined that the half-way point between their two homes was the St. Ignace side of the Mackinac bridge - 63 miles from her home. Emil had grown up in a small town near Saginaw, 100 miles from Detroit. His family remained there.
Thanksgiving rolled around. That American holiday about giving thanks among family ... no matter how far away. Naturally, my ex-husband wanted his children for Thanksgiving. My ex-husband's mother wanted to see her grandchildren and her son for Thanksgiving. Emil's mum wanted to see her grandchildren, her son, and his new girlfriend for Thanksgiving. Emil's wife wanted her children for Thanksgiving. And Emil and I wanted to spend time with all four boys for Thanksgiving.
To appease everyone would mean planning, scheduling, and a lot of driving!
Emil left on the Wednesday to pick up his boys in St. Ignace and drive them to his family home. My boys and I left on Thanksgiving morning and drove to meet them there. The boys had a great time catching up and we had a lovely couple of hours meeting Emil's family. I left to deliver my sons to their father, and dinner with his family. Then I turned around and drove the 100 miles straight back to Emil and his family. Because we do crazy things for the people we care about!
We shared a few more hours with Emil's family then split up. He to drive his sons northward, back to their home. Me, southward, to mine, where we planned to meet later.
1994. Before cell phones.
I had bought the Honda at the end of 1990, after a truck made my very compact Omni even more compact, one week before Christmas! I had bought it from the Honda dealership where I worked at the time, at Michigan and Inkster. I bought it used. With 13 miles on the odometer. Joe, the finance manager there had pleaded my case with Pete, the owner. Joe, subsequently took me from that dealership to another at Ferndale and Woodward, and then on to the Saturn retail facility. I loved my little Honda. A Civic DX, rear spoiler, mud flaps, and A.C. - something the black Dodge Omni lacked!
My little gold Honda was going to last me a long time!
I sped off down I-75, through Saginaw, where the snow started. Through Flint, where it became a blizzard, and on to where it truly was white-out conditions ... and the Honda decided to stop. I had felt the car slowing, turned on the hazards and got to the hard shoulder before the car quit. And there I sat. At the side of the road. In the dark. In a blizzard. White-out, where you couldn't see the car in front. I didn't know if my hazards were working. I didn't know if they could be seen from the road. I didn't know when a police car might happen by. It was 1994. I had no cell phone. I didn't know where I was. And, I certainly wasn't going to get out of the car. I didn't really know what my options were, other than to bundle up and wait for either rescue or death from hypothermia.
I sat for maybe 15 mins, although it seemed like an hour, when all of a sudden I saw the lights of a car pull up behind me. They weren't the lights of a police car. Two figures approached my door. Ok, option 3 flit across my mind: apparent rescue followed by death at the hands of strangers in some Michigan backwood.
One stranger knocked on the window, brushing the snow away and shining a light so that I could see his face. An older gentleman ... but still. I couldn't roll the window down. The car was dead, as dead as I feared I might soon be. I opened the door slightly and was told that they had seen my car get off the road, and that they were out looking for their daughter who hadn't yet returned home. Did I need help?
I spent much of my early years being raised by my grandmother. A women of blind faith, who 'knew no strangers.' She believed everyone has a story if you're willing to listen. Some of that love and trust of humanity was imparted to me. My mothers distrust of everyone sort of evened things out. I have pretty good intuition. I told them that I did indeed need help in getting the car and me towed to safety.
They suggested I go with them to their home and call for the tow truck. Return with them to the Honda to meet the tow truck. Ride with the tow truck to drop off the car, then return with them to their home and ... well, we weren't really sure of the next part.
So, I found myself being driven to a home, I knew not where. As we drove the short distance, they introduced themselves. They seemed like a decent, middle aged, Mid-Western, mom and pop. We arrived at their home, decorated for the holidays, fire in the grate, table set for dinner, teenaged and younger kids running through the house. All waiting for their elder, college aged, sister to arrive. I felt safe.
We called the tow truck, towed the Honda, and returned to their home to determine the next phase of my evening. I was trying to do a mental calculation of where Emil might be, would he have reached St Ignace by now. Was the blizzard as bad further morth? I was invited to stay and join them for Thanksgiving dinner. But the blizzard was abating. I was preoccupied with getting home. Emil was supposed to get to my home later, and my boys early the next morning. I decided to call my friend Raab.
Raab was an ex-boyfriend. He lived not far from me. He didn't like driving long distances. He considered long distance to be anything out of Wayne County - and, actually, even much within the County! This was Thanksgiving. He was with his family. There was a blizzard, although now probably just slush and snow. I was certainly out of the County. In fact, a few counties over. I was 66 miles away, in Fenton.
You do crazy things for the people you care about. Raab drove all the way up to Fenton to rescue me - my second rescue of the evening. And what did he get for his troubles?
He knocked on the door. It was answered by the gentleman of the house who immediately introduced himself as Mel Torme. I saw the laughter rising in Raab, quickly thanked my hosts, and almost pushed Raab to the car before his laughter exploded. Yes, my hosts were Mr. and Mrs. Mel Torme of Fenton. Apparently no relation to the other, more famous one.
Raab deposited me safely at home. Emil arrived safely many hours later. The Honda was never seen again - to be replaced by an evil red Ford Escort, and then by my beloved Silver Steed.
Many years later, while living in Fort Myers, I met a man wearing a baseball cap that had 'Fenton, Mi' emblazoned across it. I told him I had once met a Mr. Mel Torme of Fenton, Mi. He knew him well. They were neighbors. Mr. Torme was a well known and loved fireman in the town.
This is my Thanksgiving story. The one that reminds me every year that we do crazy things for the people we care about, that I have been loved, cared for, and cherished by many wonderful people, that there are angels among us, and that I have much for which to be thankful.
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