Metuchen

We were driving west on our way home through the small towns of Northern New Jersey. Neighborhoods, main streets, and fog, but no cars that night. Usually no traffic is a good thing, but this time we were looking for any sign of life, we needed help and we needed it now.

We’d  spent the day at my Uncle Ron and Aunt Liz’s house in Metuchen with the family.  We stayed for hours after dinner sitting around the kitchen table talking and finally were on our way home. Carl and I were curled up on the backseat of my Dad’s big white Cadillac asleep.  We each got exactly half of the back seat. No seatbelts at that time so we could stretch out or curl up in my case. My little brother Bart was upfront with my parents, asleep in my Mom’s arms.  He’d gotten sick during the day and had a fever by the time we left. Suddenly his fever spiked and his eyes rolled to the back of his head and that’s when Mom sprung into action. 

Mom told my Dad to find a hospital or a policeman. He started running red lights, blaring his horn and speeding, hoping to get pulled over. Eventually, we saw the lights of a motorcycle cop and he did pull my dad over. As the car came to a stop my mom opened the car door and rushed towards the cop with Bart in her arms. 

Carl and I were now sitting up and concerned. Our baby brother was very sick, my Mother was in high gear and my father was erratic and highly stressed out. Carl and I sat quietly in the back seat.

“Officer, my son is sick.”  My mother said firmly as she rushed towards the policeman. 

I had to stand up from the backseat to see what was happening, Carl sat up straight to see. The policeman wore a helmet and a uniform. He stepped off, took Bart in his arms and laid him on the seat of his bike. As he examined Bart, my mom held on to him and talked for a just a minute. 

I looked for my dad and found him over near the entrance to an office far from the curb. We were on a main street of some little town. But my dad was standing there facing the brick wall leaning his forehead on his arm and leaning against the building, he stood there and shuddered as he sobbed, while my mom took care of business. 

A moment later, back in the car, we followed the policeman to the local hospital. Bart was fine but I was offered an opportunity to learn another facet to  my father.  And my mother for that matter. 

Not able to cope with trauma was a hallmark of my fathers’ makeup. Balanced by a mother who faced challenges, conquered them and moved on. No time to worry about what happened yesterday, there’s more on the way.