Last week my friends Estee, LuAnne and I were at a benefit concert called “Christmas for Kids.” Our minister’s outreach program, G&P Ministries sponsors this every year. I was seated between these two beautiful and sweet sisters that I attend Church with and also knew from high school. One of the acts, Steve Campbell was on stage performing some of Larry Gatlin’s great tunes from the late 70’s and 80’s. The music really took me back to when I was a kid. I leaned over to Estee and said this reminds me of riding in my Dad’s station wagon…the music just took me back. She nodded and told me I should write a blog about it, so here goes…thanks for the inspiration Steve…and Estee.
My first memory of the 1972 Green Gran Torino Station Wagon was shortly after my third birthday. I know it’s hard for people to imagine someone remembering an event when they were three years old, but this was a significant memory….I got married that day. Okay, now that you have stopped laughing, gasping or shaking your head, read on…I really did get married that day.
My biological father left my mother and I a year and a half earlier. They had been married for eight years when I was born and things went downhill after I came along. My father had been very vocal about not wanting to have children. He was a “free spirit” and really wanted to travel and see the world. My mother on the other hand, only wanted to have a child and she would be happy. Basically, my parents parted ways. I won’t get into all the drama at this point, but the divorce left my mother and I desolate and without the help of her family we might have starved. She worked night and day in a rundown cotton mill in west Anniston called Samson’s Cortage. The working conditions were horrible for a man, much less a woman. Finally, she met the man who I would come to know as my Dad. His name was Floyd Ray Goodwin, and he had a son of his own from his first marriage. The two began dating and before long the chemistry was clear and the decision was made to become a family.
We had not heard from my biological father in quite some time, so I grew very close to Floyd Ray. On June 20, 1975 my Mom and Floyd Ray loaded me up in his station wagon and we headed to the Cleburne County Justice of The Peace. We had a flat tire on the way and I remember watching my soon to be stepdad changing it on the side of the road. The station wagon had wood colored panels down each side. I thought it was big and ugly…but in the coming years, many memories would be made in this vehicle.
At the office of the Justice of The Peace, at the close of the marriage ceremony, the gentleman asked my parents to close their eyes and he led a prayer prior to pronouncing them Man and Wife. I spoke up and said, “wait, let me close my eyes too!” Everyone laughed at my comment and for years I would tell people my Mom and I got married to Floyd Ray Goodwin on that day, because I closed my eyes too.
Through the years I remember wonderful family trips in that mean green station wagon. Back in those days little kids were not required to wear seatbelts. I would stand in the seat between my Mom and Dad. One of them would always keep their arm across me to make sure I didn’t go flying through the windshield. I also remember, when my Mom wanted to sit in the middle next to my Dad, I would ride shotgun sitting on the door handle. Back then, my tiny behind would fit on the handle and I could see the world passing by as we drove. The station wagon also had a ‘third row seat” that folded up and faced the rear direction. As I got older, I loved to sit back there and watch the road behind us. Many times we pulled a pop up camper behind that station wagon. We were poor, so there were no Disney World trips. Our family vacations were going to the local lake, or maybe an annual trip to Six Flags. My Mom tells people that while the rest of the family would be out fishing on a lake, I would be sitting in the very back of that station wagon with a notebook writing stories. Some things never change. I would love to get back all the inspiration to write I had back then.
It was heart breaking for me when my Dad finally sold that old station wagon. It didn’t even run anymore, but he had someone come and tow it out of our yard, after it had sat on blocks for months. In 2004, my Dad was fighting an aggressive form of stomach cancer. We took turns flying with him back and forth to Zion, Illinois for treatment at the Cancer Center of America. In the late fall that year, he and I were there alone. I took him out for a drive in the rental car and we crossed over into Osh Kosh, Wisconsin along Lake Michigan. We parked and went for a walk. We saw an old Gran Torino station wagon like the one he had during the 1970s. We had a nice long conversation about it and I treasure that memory so much. He lasted a few more months and died just two days into 2005. The last thing he said to me was “Son, I need you take over.” He never treated me like a step-son. He treated me like his middle child. He had my brother, Tony from his first marriage and then he and my Mom had my sister Becky together. I belonged to him just like they did. “Son, I need you to take over.” I will never forget those words. I leaned down to him and said “I know Dad, and remember, I closed my eyes too.”
Family means everything. I am so glad I got the chance to experience the old station wagon days.
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