Now Entering Obscurity

It was almost a year ago that, on the most plain and non-descript day, after driving for about seven hours, I saw a sign. I don’t mean a metaphorical or spiritually life-changing sign, but an actual physical and tangible sign. It was on the side of the road and was just as plain and non-descript as the day itself. It read, “Welcome To Obscurity! Enjoy Your Stay!” Lois and I road tripped whenever chance allowed. It’s funny that I never thought of it before, but most of our destinations were inspired by television shows and movies. To give you an idea, but not to bore you with the endless list, the Vermont B&B – ala Newhart, Graceland – Designing Women’s Charlene’s love of Elvis, and God only knows where (because I sure don’t know where we ended up), but we never did find those Children of the Corn. We did find corn, though. Holy cob, Batman! Did we find corn! Anyway, it wasn’t until about fifteen minutes after I passed that sign and entered the “Business District” of Obscurity that I realized I was whistling The Andy Griffith Show theme and that Mayberry, RFD did, in fact, exist. I’d like to say that I laughed at myself, but I actually started whistling louder and waved at the few pedestrians and shopkeepers I saw as I passed them. Okay, don’t think that the men were all in suits with skinny ties and the women were in their Sunday best on a Wednesday afternoon, trust me, they weren’t. It was, IS, more like “Mayberry, Y2K”. So, as I came to the end of the business district, really only two blocks long, I reached over and grabbed for the directions that Aggie had e-mailed me to take me to my “home away from home”. I had to go up a somewhat treacherous two lane hillside to what I now know the locals call “The Heights”. I was looking for Obscurity Heights and 4523½ Heart Way; an over-the-garage apartment owned and rented out by a fifty-six-year-old widow, Lancome Deladee. I pulled up to the curb across the street from my new digs and before I could even turn the engine off a more elegant, and much less scary, version of the white-haired Stop the Insanity! fitness guru Susan Powter came bounding down the porch of 4523 Heart Way and toward my car. Of course, Carlisle, who had since aroused from his boredom of being captive in the backseat for seven hours except for a few leg stretching and pee breaks along the way, decided to “greet” our new landlady with his impression of Cujo. Now, this is why I instantly and totally fell in love with Lancome Deladee. Not “sexual” love or “love” love…but Respect love…Friend love. She went right up to that back window and put her hands on Carlisle’s ears and rubbed them and put her face right up to his and nose-nuzzled him. And do you know what that little shit did? (Carlisle, not Mrs. Deladee.) He plopped his furry little butt down, turned over on his back, and offered his belly to her for, what I could tell was, just THE most exciting belly rub in the history of belly rubs. Sure, it only lasted about fifteen seconds, but if I still smoked and had cigarettes on me, I would’ve offered him one. Thank God (and Bob Barker) Lois and I had him “fixed”. Okay, so, she un-leaned out of the back window and Carlisle up-righted himself, shook, and then stuck his head out the window and panted heavily as his new friend moved to my window. I hope she didn’t notice that I was leaning toward her and hoping for the same greeting. Again, not sexual, but hey, who wouldn’t like a good belly rub? And, again, from what I could tell, she knew how to do it! She said, “Welcome, Mr. Autumns.” I unbuckled my seatbelt and she stepped back as I got out of the car. I said, “Ryder, Mrs. Deladee, I mean, any friend of Carlisle’s is a friend of mine.” She laughed and then said, “Honey, call me Lana. Everyone does.” Four days later on Sunday night I think I was asleep before my head hit the pillow. Who knew obscurity could be so exhausting? Whoa! Sorry. I jumped ahead. Let me go back.