Two Months Left
The story that follows is not
an adventure story although it is about the great adventure.
It contains no intricate plot structure. It merely tells about a
two-person relation-ship. It purports to be fiction, but is about
real people.
This is the story of a mother and her son, and of death and life. I am sure there have been sequels in the past and that "their story" will happen again. The two principals, Mama and JoJo, are at once the salt of the earth, and an affirmation of all that is good in humanity.
Our story starts where the principals
were born and lived through their adult lives--in a small central Ohio
town. It is one of those towns that has to really search to come
up with something to give it distinction. In this case it is the
birthplace of the author of "Dixie", Daniel Decatur Emmett.
The principals in this story
ran a pizza parlor. In the larger scheme of things, it was probably no
different from countless other places. Yet the people made it memorable.
Mama, a large woman with a heart as big as her body, did the cooking, JoJo,
her son, tended bar and carried on lively banter with the patrons.
We, the local college boys, kept going back not just because the pizza
was delicious and the beer was always cold, but because of the warmth of
the people.
Then suddenly everything changed.
A routine physical examination exposed a serious physical problem, followed
by the startling announcement that Mama only had "two months left."
The other children she had borne and nurtured, worked for, and put through
school felt bad; but did nothing. However, JoJo put his arm around
his mother and said: "you know that trip to California you always wanted
to take? Now's the time." They left the next day.
They headed west-southwest in
their shiny aquamarine and white 1957 Chevy convertible, top down, the
car devouring gas as well as miles. Mama's hair streamed out behind;
she seemed to be trying to outrun death, as if that were possible.
"You know," she said above the
drone of the engine, "before, all I ever worried about was whether there
was enough pepperoni, enough sausage, enough fresh dough for the pizza
for 'my boys' and now..."her voice trailed off sadly into forgettable miles.
Breaking loose from Ohio they
slipped through Indiana and Missouri, across the breathless plains, until
they spied Pikes Peak looming in the distance. Their trusty steed
coughed and belched its way laboriously to the top of the mountain.
Mama and JoJo experienced a moment of exhilaration the likes of which they
had never before shared.
They travelled west again...to
Las Vegas. Mama gambled a little, lost a little, enjoyed it a lot;
though perhaps not as much as JoJo did the Show Girls who found his unassuming
ways entirely refreshing. Then it was on to Hollywood,...and more
unaccustomed glitter. It was all a far cry from the quiet, slow-paced
life they had known back in Ohio.
"Would you take me to the ocean?"
Mama asked softly, almost reverently. "I never told anyone, but I've
always wanted to see the ocean. I guess I thought they would think
it was foolish."
JoJo merely nodded and stepped
on the accelerator.
Mama stood on a bluff high above
the Pacific watching the ocean swells curling along deserted beaches for
as far as she could see. As she gazed fixedly out across the vast
expanse of water before her, tears came to her eyes. It was a moment
too poignant for the silliness of words. At last she turned, smiled
lovingly at JoJo, got back in the car, and rode back to Ohio.
Mama had made the long journey
to the ocean to learn how to die. Instead she had learned how to
live. Despite the Doctor's dire prediction, she lived with an incredible
vitality for another six and a half years!
On her death bed, in a room
filled with close friends and relatives, she whispered her last words so
that only JoJo could hear: "thanks for the trip!"