EDITOR’S NOTE: The following is a memory graciously shared with the CVT by our friend, Sharon Pigeon. Our readers will identify with its content – especially at Christmas, when our thoughts turn to the important people with whom we shared our lives.
“SEE THE USA IN YOUR CHEVROLET”
SOME OF YOU MAY REMEMBER Dinah Shore singing that theme song on her television show. Americans loved their automobiles.
Historically, by 1941, about 88 percent of American households had a family car. However, in 1942 due to World War II, civilian automobile manufacturing basically came to a halt. Additionally, many rationed and restricted items during that war impacted automobiles, tires and gasoline. Speed limits were lowered to reduce tire wear and gasoline usage, and civilians were restricted to owning only five tires at one time.
Americans had undeniably fallen in love with automobiles, and veterans coming home from war wanted to return to their old normal. After that war, family activities frequently centered around the family’s car. My dad was a veteran and certainly was a car man. And like so many American families in the 1950’s and ‘60’s, the four of us would often pile into the car and set off for an adventure on Sunday afternoons after church.
That was how most of our day-trip adventures began. We would be off to a lake for swimming and picnics, and maybe even some roller skating. Or it might be hiking up to Lovers’ Leap or exploring caves and tunnels. Sometimes it was just the four of us. At other times we would connect with our extended family of aunts and uncles and cousins thus resulting in a super-sized group. After all, we were the Baby Boomers!.
On one such occasion, the four of us were off to Cumberland Gap, which is the place in the Cumberland Mountains where the states of Virginia, Kentucky and Tennessee meet. Daniel Boone had crossed through Cumberland Gap going West. Our adventure was to include a guided tour of the legendary Cudjo’s Cave. At eight and five years old, Sheila and I thought this would be a great time.
We had fun walking with the tour group and listening to the guide explain the development of the stalactites hanging from the ceiling and the mounding of stalagmites from the ground. We saw underground ponds and creatures and climbed narrow stairs in dim lighting. The guide told us the legend of Cudjo, the runaway slave who hid in the cave, and then the guide turned off all the lights to show us how very dark and scary it would have been for anyone hiding there.
Our guide was a student at Lincoln Memorial University, which owned the cavern by that time. He was very knowledgeable and, like most tour guides, would direct us to “walk this way” to the next point where he would then stop and give us another little part of his prepared spiel. Occasionally, someone in our group would have a question, but he gave such complete information that few questions were asked along the way.
At another point, however, a small voice broke through at an ill-timed moment of silence when the guide had unexpectedly stopped speaking. “Daddy, I have to pee” rose above the quiet. There were a few low chuckles in the group, and Daddy leaned down to whisper I would have to wait. There are no bathrooms in caves where we strive to “leave no trace.”
Well, I did wait, and when we got to the end of the tour, my dad scooped me up into his strong arms and quite literally ran through the exit, down the hill, across the road and into the souvenir shop, where he dropped me off at the Ladies Room. No accidents. Once again, my dad was my hero. But it certainly would not be the last time.
After my dad passed, someone asked me to name the first thing that came to my mind about him. I immediately said, “He could fix anything.” That was always so comforting.
It has been said that it’s funny how unimportant special days can seem while we are living them. Of course, the five-year-old me did not realize that the family’s day trip to Cudjo’s Cave would be a memory which I would cherish, even into my golden years. Long after my big strong father, with his mechanical mind and his ability to fix anything, had left this earth, that memory still warms my heart.
Cherish every special day.
