It all started on Memorial Day. As per usual I was the last one in the car.
The rest of my family waited in the car while I was still inside, since I waited until the last possible second to wake up, get dressed, brush my teeth and get my hair just right. When I finally did stumble into the car, my younger brother Jack, always heckling, retorted "It's about time you got here, Buddy Holly." While I hated being called that, it was true, I did look like Buddy Holly. With my tall skinny frame, wavy dark hair, and browline glasses straight from the 50's, I very well could've passed as a reincarnation of the late, great musician. "Shove off Jack" I shot back at him. "Now Harlan, let's try not to start off this trip on a sour note." my mom said. "Well then, let's get going, finally." said my dad. The last word he said in a hushed tone, obviously being a bit passive aggressive at my sluggishness of getting in the car. About every year, my family takes a day-long trip up and down the state to celebrate Memorial Day by visiting the gravesites of all our dead relatives. We would start north of the valley, visit my mom's parents' gravesites, then my dad's parent's gravesites, then my mom's parent's siblings gravesites, et cetera, et cetera, so on and so forth.
The last place we would always visit was the gravesite of my great-great grandfather, John Jackson Andrews. Every time we went down there, my dad would always recount the same old family legend. "Your great-great grandpa," as my dad would always start the story, "was a landowner in these parts at the turn of the century. Now, he was thinking about buying a certain area he was told was pretty rich in oil, and sent his business partner ahead of him to scout out the land, Bartholomew Verbinski was his name. When Verbinski did get there, he found out it was not only rich in oil, but very rich in oil. I guess his boss didn't pay him enough, or he just got greedy, but Verbinski reported back to him that the land had no oil to speak of. So, Old Man Andrews decided not to buy the land after all. But, good old Bart Verbinski went behind his back and bought it all instead, leaving us Andrews' stuck in the middle class for all eternity while the Verbinski's got wealthy enough to make even a Rockefeller blush." We'd all heard the story a million times at this point so we all said the final line my dad said at the ending in unison; "And the Verbinski's and the Andrews' have been sworn enemies ever since."
I always thought that story could make a good movie one day, but anyway, before we went to the cemetery, we stopped in a nearby town to get something to eat, since we've been on the road damned near the whole day. We stopped at a place called Billy's Diner to chow down on whatever greasy food we could order. The place was pretty crowded with a 30 minute wait, but since it was basically the only restaurant in town, we decided to cut our losses and wait in line at the front of the diner. Another family of four was also waiting for a table. My mom, being my mom, decided to make small talk with them since we were all just standing in line anyway. She asked them what they were doing for Memorial Day and the dad answered "We're on a Memorial Day road trip." "Oh really!" My mom beamed excitedly, "That's what we're doing too!" Sometimes I wished my mom would keep to herself, or at least settle for talking to us, because otherwise it just leads to awkward conversations with random people we don't know. This time however, we seemed to be getting along. The parents talked about our Memorial Day road trips and had a good conversation. My dad introduced us to our new acquaintances, "Well, I'm Ron by the way, this is Wendy, and these are our boys Harlan and Jack." Jack and I both nodded and said "Hi" quietly as we were introduced. The dad of the other family introduced his family, "I'm Greg. This is my wife Gwen and our kids, Bianca and Joel." he said, pointing to his kids who seemed to be the same ages as Jack and I. The brother was wearing a double breasted suit and slicked back hair, looking like he was straight out of Wall Street in 1987. I made eye contact with the sister and I did a double take. She didn't almost immediately break eye contact like most other girls did, and dare I say she was actually kinda?cute. I guess I was staring for a bit too long, because Jack caught on and nudged me to snap out of it. A waitress came up and asked us "How many tables for you folks?" "Two- well?" said Greg. He looked at my parents who seemed to know what he was saying. "How about one table for all of us?" Most everyone seemed to be in agreement. Next thing we knew, all 8 of us were sitting together in the diner. As expected from our interactions in line, members of both families were getting along swimmingly. Dad and Greg were having an in-depth conversation about golf, Mom and Gwen were talking about who knows what, while Jack and Joel were raving about 80's pop culture, leaving just me and Bianca. Now, I was never a good conversationalist, especially with people I just met, and ESPECIALLY with the opposite sex, and ESPECIALLY ESPECIALLY with the cute ones. After a few good silent moments I got myself to churn out; "Bianca, right?" She smiled and said back "Yep, and you're Harlan?" "That's right." I said almost immediately, probably out of nervousness. 5 more agonizingly silent seconds passed and that's when I had to get myself talking. "Come on, say something, say something you stupid fool. Just say something. Say anything!" my inner monologue told me. "We have a cat named Dusty." I blurted out. "Um, uh, do you guys have any pets?" Nice save. "Yeah, actually we have a dog named Rusty." Bianca said. "Really? Is that really its name?" I said while smirking. "No, it really is!" she said as she laughed. And ooh I liked her laugh. We kept talking until I was no longer a nervous wreck, and I'm usually still a nervous wreck this far into a conversation, and that was when I knew Bianca was something different.
We discovered during lunch that both of our families were going to the same cemetery for the final stops of our trips. So both families said "See you in a minute" to each other and hopped in our respective cars. 10 minutes later we pulled into the Star Crossing Veterans Cemetery. Both of our families parked close to each other and met back up at the trail heading into the graveyard. When we all met up again Bianca started off by saying to me, "You know who you look like?" "Uh, no. Who?" I said. "Buddy Holly." she said. I took half a second to take that in. "Well thanks, I do try." I said and she laughed again. Mmmm that laugh. "Hey, do you think I can get your Instagram?" I said without thinking beforehand. "Sure." Bianca said. I took out my phone and opened Instagram while she told me her username: bianca_be_vibin96. Woof, not only her laugh but her usernames were cute too. "Hey Bianca!" her brother Joel called out. Her family was heading to the opposite side of the cemetery from where my family was heading. "Well, this is me." she said. She started to turn away when I said "Maybe I'll see you soon?" "Maybe." she said with a wink. Oh, boy her winks were cute too- okay I'll shut up about that. I met back up with mom, dad and Jack as we headed to the grave of John Jackson Andrews. We got there but I decided to look back at where Bianca and her family were. They were on the other side of the cemetery close to where Bartholomew Verbinski's large obelisk headstone was. Yes, he was buried here too. When we were kids, my dad always wanted to let me and Jack take a leak on the Verbinski grave but mom would never let us do it. I took a look at my great-great-grandfather's grave. Same old thing as last year and every year before; a bland, drab headstone with his name, birth/death dates and the same old quote: "His best friend screwed him harder than his wife ever did." There was nothing new to see there so I looked back over at where Bianca and her family were. Although now, they were finally at the headstone they came here to see. It was the grave of Bartholomew Verbinski.
I can't say I wasn't a little bit shocked. I must've looked it, because Jack caught me staring again. He looked where I was looking and saw the same thing I did. "Hey dad," Jack said as he pointed to the family at the Verbinski grave. "Isn't that-" Dad took a look at where Jack was pointing and what he saw gave him a look that was a mix between shocked, angry and betrayed at the same time. "Yes. Yes it is, son. Come on, let's go." At that point, the other family saw us and what grave we were at, and seemed as shocked as we were to see them at the grave they were at. Both of the families kept a cold stare on the other as we walked back to the trail in the middle of the cemetery. When we both got to the trail, there was a strong air of tension. Finally, someone addressed the elephant in the room. "You- You are the- ? Started Gwen, choking up and unable to finish her sentence. The little brother Joel stepped in to ask the question for her; "You people are Andrews', aren't you?" "You're damn right we're the Andrews." said my dad. "And you guys are-" "That's right," said Greg. "We're the Verbinskis."
The rest of my family waited in the car while I was still inside, since I waited until the last possible second to wake up, get dressed, brush my teeth and get my hair just right. When I finally did stumble into the car, my younger brother Jack, always heckling, retorted "It's about time you got here, Buddy Holly." While I hated being called that, it was true, I did look like Buddy Holly. With my tall skinny frame, wavy dark hair, and browline glasses straight from the 50's, I very well could've passed as a reincarnation of the late, great musician. "Shove off Jack" I shot back at him. "Now Harlan, let's try not to start off this trip on a sour note." my mom said. "Well then, let's get going, finally." said my dad. The last word he said in a hushed tone, obviously being a bit passive aggressive at my sluggishness of getting in the car. About every year, my family takes a day-long trip up and down the state to celebrate Memorial Day by visiting the gravesites of all our dead relatives. We would start north of the valley, visit my mom's parents' gravesites, then my dad's parent's gravesites, then my mom's parent's siblings gravesites, et cetera, et cetera, so on and so forth.
The last place we would always visit was the gravesite of my great-great grandfather, John Jackson Andrews. Every time we went down there, my dad would always recount the same old family legend. "Your great-great grandpa," as my dad would always start the story, "was a landowner in these parts at the turn of the century. Now, he was thinking about buying a certain area he was told was pretty rich in oil, and sent his business partner ahead of him to scout out the land, Bartholomew Verbinski was his name. When Verbinski did get there, he found out it was not only rich in oil, but very rich in oil. I guess his boss didn't pay him enough, or he just got greedy, but Verbinski reported back to him that the land had no oil to speak of. So, Old Man Andrews decided not to buy the land after all. But, good old Bart Verbinski went behind his back and bought it all instead, leaving us Andrews' stuck in the middle class for all eternity while the Verbinski's got wealthy enough to make even a Rockefeller blush." We'd all heard the story a million times at this point so we all said the final line my dad said at the ending in unison; "And the Verbinski's and the Andrews' have been sworn enemies ever since."
I always thought that story could make a good movie one day, but anyway, before we went to the cemetery, we stopped in a nearby town to get something to eat, since we've been on the road damned near the whole day. We stopped at a place called Billy's Diner to chow down on whatever greasy food we could order. The place was pretty crowded with a 30 minute wait, but since it was basically the only restaurant in town, we decided to cut our losses and wait in line at the front of the diner. Another family of four was also waiting for a table. My mom, being my mom, decided to make small talk with them since we were all just standing in line anyway. She asked them what they were doing for Memorial Day and the dad answered "We're on a Memorial Day road trip." "Oh really!" My mom beamed excitedly, "That's what we're doing too!" Sometimes I wished my mom would keep to herself, or at least settle for talking to us, because otherwise it just leads to awkward conversations with random people we don't know. This time however, we seemed to be getting along. The parents talked about our Memorial Day road trips and had a good conversation. My dad introduced us to our new acquaintances, "Well, I'm Ron by the way, this is Wendy, and these are our boys Harlan and Jack." Jack and I both nodded and said "Hi" quietly as we were introduced. The dad of the other family introduced his family, "I'm Greg. This is my wife Gwen and our kids, Bianca and Joel." he said, pointing to his kids who seemed to be the same ages as Jack and I. The brother was wearing a double breasted suit and slicked back hair, looking like he was straight out of Wall Street in 1987. I made eye contact with the sister and I did a double take. She didn't almost immediately break eye contact like most other girls did, and dare I say she was actually kinda?cute. I guess I was staring for a bit too long, because Jack caught on and nudged me to snap out of it. A waitress came up and asked us "How many tables for you folks?" "Two- well?" said Greg. He looked at my parents who seemed to know what he was saying. "How about one table for all of us?" Most everyone seemed to be in agreement. Next thing we knew, all 8 of us were sitting together in the diner. As expected from our interactions in line, members of both families were getting along swimmingly. Dad and Greg were having an in-depth conversation about golf, Mom and Gwen were talking about who knows what, while Jack and Joel were raving about 80's pop culture, leaving just me and Bianca. Now, I was never a good conversationalist, especially with people I just met, and ESPECIALLY with the opposite sex, and ESPECIALLY ESPECIALLY with the cute ones. After a few good silent moments I got myself to churn out; "Bianca, right?" She smiled and said back "Yep, and you're Harlan?" "That's right." I said almost immediately, probably out of nervousness. 5 more agonizingly silent seconds passed and that's when I had to get myself talking. "Come on, say something, say something you stupid fool. Just say something. Say anything!" my inner monologue told me. "We have a cat named Dusty." I blurted out. "Um, uh, do you guys have any pets?" Nice save. "Yeah, actually we have a dog named Rusty." Bianca said. "Really? Is that really its name?" I said while smirking. "No, it really is!" she said as she laughed. And ooh I liked her laugh. We kept talking until I was no longer a nervous wreck, and I'm usually still a nervous wreck this far into a conversation, and that was when I knew Bianca was something different.
We discovered during lunch that both of our families were going to the same cemetery for the final stops of our trips. So both families said "See you in a minute" to each other and hopped in our respective cars. 10 minutes later we pulled into the Star Crossing Veterans Cemetery. Both of our families parked close to each other and met back up at the trail heading into the graveyard. When we all met up again Bianca started off by saying to me, "You know who you look like?" "Uh, no. Who?" I said. "Buddy Holly." she said. I took half a second to take that in. "Well thanks, I do try." I said and she laughed again. Mmmm that laugh. "Hey, do you think I can get your Instagram?" I said without thinking beforehand. "Sure." Bianca said. I took out my phone and opened Instagram while she told me her username: bianca_be_vibin96. Woof, not only her laugh but her usernames were cute too. "Hey Bianca!" her brother Joel called out. Her family was heading to the opposite side of the cemetery from where my family was heading. "Well, this is me." she said. She started to turn away when I said "Maybe I'll see you soon?" "Maybe." she said with a wink. Oh, boy her winks were cute too- okay I'll shut up about that. I met back up with mom, dad and Jack as we headed to the grave of John Jackson Andrews. We got there but I decided to look back at where Bianca and her family were. They were on the other side of the cemetery close to where Bartholomew Verbinski's large obelisk headstone was. Yes, he was buried here too. When we were kids, my dad always wanted to let me and Jack take a leak on the Verbinski grave but mom would never let us do it. I took a look at my great-great-grandfather's grave. Same old thing as last year and every year before; a bland, drab headstone with his name, birth/death dates and the same old quote: "His best friend screwed him harder than his wife ever did." There was nothing new to see there so I looked back over at where Bianca and her family were. Although now, they were finally at the headstone they came here to see. It was the grave of Bartholomew Verbinski.
I can't say I wasn't a little bit shocked. I must've looked it, because Jack caught me staring again. He looked where I was looking and saw the same thing I did. "Hey dad," Jack said as he pointed to the family at the Verbinski grave. "Isn't that-" Dad took a look at where Jack was pointing and what he saw gave him a look that was a mix between shocked, angry and betrayed at the same time. "Yes. Yes it is, son. Come on, let's go." At that point, the other family saw us and what grave we were at, and seemed as shocked as we were to see them at the grave they were at. Both of the families kept a cold stare on the other as we walked back to the trail in the middle of the cemetery. When we both got to the trail, there was a strong air of tension. Finally, someone addressed the elephant in the room. "You- You are the- ? Started Gwen, choking up and unable to finish her sentence. The little brother Joel stepped in to ask the question for her; "You people are Andrews', aren't you?" "You're damn right we're the Andrews." said my dad. "And you guys are-" "That's right," said Greg. "We're the Verbinskis."
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