The Big Tree

part two

I was driving my father to visit an old military friend a few cities away. On our way there he decided he wanted to visit some family that lived somewhere in between, so I made a little detour to accommodate him.

It was no big deal. I know how to get there, and I know the area.

“This does not look familiar,” my Dad says.

I continue to drive down the street I’m on. I say nothing. Between you and me, I’m on the right street.

Out of the corner of my eye I see him looking out up and down the street. Side to side. His head must be on a swivel.

“I don’t think you’re on the right street,” he tells me, his eyes bugging out. “I don’t recognize the area.”

One funny thing about my Dad I’ve noticed the few times we’ve traveled together, his eyes tend to bug out when he thinks I’m lost. I’m not lost. I’ve got my GPS to prove it. Only my Dad doesn’t know I’m using it. Another funny thing I’ve noticed is that his eyes tend to bug out in direct proportion to how lost he thinks I am.

My Dad’s old school. He doesn’t understand how a GPS works, so he doesn’t trust it. (I don’t understand how it works, either, for that matter, but, to tell the truth, all I care about is that it does work. It doesn’t matter to me how.)

“How does it know?” he once asked.

I tried to explain to him something about satellites and car positioning, but, to tell the truth, I didn’t know what I was talking about, so the fault was probably mine that he didn’t understand. I have the same problem with airplanes flying. I understand, in theory, the concept of “lift” and “thrust,” but what I don’t understand is how a metal tube that’s tens of thousands of pounds heavy is able to get off the ground and stay in the air.

Don’t judge me. My first mother-in-law didn’t think we landed on the moon, because “there isn’t an electrical cord that long.” You probably think I’m making that up, but it’s true. I’m not saying the mother of my first wife was stupid, but it took her an hour to cook Minute Rice. But I digress...

“...and that’s how the GPS works, Dad.”

“Yeah, but how does it know?“

“Just humor him”, was the advice my wife gave me before we left. So I do.

“I’ll stop at the next gas station, and check my map,” I tell him. A map he understands, so he says nothing for awhile, but continues to scope out the area. As long as he thinks I’m going to do something, it’s almost as good as my doing it. It appeases him for awhile. It buys me time.

But not a whole lot.

“I don’t recognize any of these houses,” he says, firmly. “I know the house, and I know there’s a big tree in the front yard.”

“Hey, what’s that?” I say, trying to distract him. He doesn’t fall for it. He continues to study the houses, the streets, the neighborhoods. Fool me once, I guess.

So I slow down to please him-going slower always does-but, trust me, I know where I’m at. The last street sign had the right name. The numbers painted on the driveways have the right numbers. He continues to look out the window.

“Nothing looks familiar,” he says. Sadly, nothing ever does. “I know that the house has a big tree in the front yard, and I just don’t see it.”

I can see the house just down the block. I slow down even more, hoping he recognizes it.

“Isn’t that it, Dad?” I say, pointing to the house just ahead of us.

“That can’t be it,” he tells me, firmly. “The house we’re looking for has a big tree out front. That tree’s not so big.”

“Dad, I think that’s the house.”

“Can’t be. The tree...”

“I don’t know, the tree looks pretty big to me.”

“I don’t think so. I don’t think it’s the house.”

“I think it is,” I tell him, as I come to a stop. “Look familiar?”

Dad is shaking his head.

“I don’t think so, son. I know the house, and this is not it.”

“Let me check the address.” I pretend to look at the directions my wife had given us. And then I pretend to look at the map. “Dad, this is the correct address.”

Dad takes a good, hard look at the house.

“Hmm... ahh... well...” he says. “I guess it could be the house. Yeah, I’m starting to recognize it. See how big the tree is? I told you it was big.”

We’ve been parked out there long enough for his niece to come out and see if we’re okay.

“We were worried,” she tells us. “Did you get lost?”

It must run in the family.

We step out of the car to greet her. The rest of the family come out. Hugs and hellos are passed around like food at a family gathering. As everybody walks toward the house I can hear my Dad say: “Yeah, I knew this was the house because I recognized that big tree in the front. That’s what I kept telling my son, look for the tree, it’s big, but he didn’t believe me. Yep, I knew this was the house.” As I walk along behind them, I look up and down the street.

Every house on this block has a big tree in their front yards.