The Blue Nova

 It’s interesting how when you’re younger it’s easy to forget the days when you were young.  For me it was that way.  In my 20’s and 30’s shoot even in my early 40’s I had vague recollections of what it was like being a kid as far as memories went.  I mean I knew stuff but when people would say things that they remembered from when they were 2 years old or they would talk about their earliest memory and could peg an age and everything.  Well that wasn’t me.  It still really isn’t me but lately as life has worn on and as the half a century mark is rolling ever closer I seem to be recalling more of the things that happened.  It likely has something to do with all the taking stock I’ve done in the last couple of years, and all the crappy stuff that has happened. 

Back in October my folks had to be put in the hospital and then into a facility.  This was necessary mainly because my mother refused all offers of help, and my dad, well he wanted to please mom, but when mom wasn’t around he wanted to please whomever he was talking to.  So when offered the opportunity for help without my mom he would say yes, but then when she was around he would say no.  

This isn’t a first.  It’s always been that way.  My dad would be okay with things, would understand the necessity of things, would agree with doctors, social workers, pastors, and his own son and family, all the way up until the point he was in the same space as my mom, then it would all flip.  This wasn’t relegated to recently either, it’s how I grew up.  This strange split personality that would emerge when around my mom.  The older I grew the more I noticed it and the more I realized that’s not what I wanted, I started to pull away a bit at a time just because I didn’t feel connected.  But lets get back to that blue Nova.  

My dad’s blue Nova was, I think, his last vestige of a space that was his.  He chose it, he loved that car, two doors, blue, vinyl interior,  when I was a kid I never realized fully the power that car hid, mainly because it was never really allowed to breathe.  Looking into it a bit further there were other options for the Nova, four door versions, smaller engines, even wagons and the like but dad always had the two door “muscle car” version.  I suspect one of the reasons he got to keep it as long as he did was because mom didn’t realize what was sitting in the garage.  

The thing is my parents had a somewhat parasitic relationship, where they both hosted each other.  They rarely had space from each other. When I say they did everything together, it’s not an understatement.  Sure there was space for some personal moments but by and large they fed off of each other.  For the most part my dad did whatever my mom wanted.  It’s interesting looking back, realizing that those times he would drive to the convenience store and get both of us a soda and a candy bar were his small rebellion, that the radio would turn to other stations those times he and I were going somewhere that she was not going to because of sleeping for work.  Little things to me, must have felt vindicating and somewhat rebellious to him.  Just like that Nova.  That car
features in one of my favorite memories with my father.  

There was one of those multi colored rugs on the back seat, we were still living on Elm Street and my dad decided to take his son to a little movie set in a galaxy far far away.  I remember climbing into the front seat because my mother wasn’t going.  She had a very strange relationships to movies in the theater.  I remember he standing on the porch and my dad backing down the driveway.  I remember the first time I saw the crawl, I remember begin hooked as soon as it was over, wanting to see it again and again, chomping at the bit for the next one and then the next.  Movies would always be a thorn in my moms side when they were in the theater, but when she was sleeping for work, there were times my dad would sneak away with me if there was something I wanted to see,  Star Wars, Star Trek, The Dark Crystal, Gremlins.  There were not many but they were there.  Tied to each of them though is that blue Nova, even though it was long gone before we went to see Empire.  Traded in on a four door sensible car.  That would be the remainder of his car buying life.  Wanting one thing but getting another.  From muscle car to a Reliant K, Plymouth Acclaim, and then a long line of Buicks.  Things had changed.  My mom even had a Horizon for a while that second family car that was little “just her size.”  I ended up with  the red one when I graduated and headed to college, taking it with me my sophomore year.  

My dad never did get another “fun” car.   He should have stopped driving before he did, and while I know he would sneak the car out on occasion, I also know that every time he did it was a terrifying experience for everyone when we found out.  The what if’s.  Same thing with my mom there at the tail end of their stint trying to say they didn’t need anyone’s help.  

There are times I long for the kind of memories and experiences that I see others have with their dads.  Concerts, and ball games, shared experiences that as you turn from youth to adult and then to real adult sees the relationship shift towards a friendship that maintains mutual respect, and well I didn't have that, but…  I cherish the thought of that Chevy Nova sitting in the garage.  My dad quietly knowing what was under the hood, what was possible and the chance I had to ride in it just him and me every once in a while. Grabbing a soda and a candy bar from the Sammy Quick Stop, Kansas, or Aerosmith, or Queen streaming from the radio that had been moved from the normal station to the one that he knew I liked, and that I think he secretly liked as well.

I miss you dad.  If you think of it grab Me Me and give her a big old hug and say it’s from me.