Love and Death

by Hank Phillipi Ryan

Okay, do this: Say NeeeeOWM. Again: NeeeeeeOWWWWM. Neeeowm. Neeeowm Neeooowm.

Now you know what it sounds like to watch the Indianapolis 500. (Next time we see each other, ask me. I’ll demonstrate.)  Thirty-three high-performance cars, going 150 miles an hour, or whatever, for 500 miles, turning left and left and left around a two and a half mile oval track.,

Of course on this Memorial Day weekend, we are remembering our troops, now and in the past. Please come visit Jungle Red today, http://www.JungleRedWriters.com  for some very special memories of our families, and their war experiences. Not to be missed.

But growing up in Indianapolis, as I did, Memorial Day also meant the Indianapolis 500. The run-up and preparation for the race lasted the entire month of May, with everyone in Indianapolis caught up in the excitement of time trials and carburetion tests and  Goodyear versus Firestone tires, even if you have no idea what any of it meant or didn’t know an Andretti from an android, you couldn’t help but be swept away by 500 fever.

It was always was on the radio, not on TV, so we’d sit out in the back yards with our radio hooked p to triple extension cords, and listen to the whole thing. You had to. I bet if you stood in the middle of the street, you could hear Jim Nabors singing Back Home Again in Indiana, then the race blaring from every neighbors back yard.

NeeeOWM. Neeeeowm. NeeeeeeOWM.

I was thinking two big things happened to me at the race. Love and death.

The first big thing, the first time I ever went to the race, I was a junior in college, I think, I went with a date, a guy I was head over heels for. Older. Like, a senior. It was glorious day, truly, I can’t remember a more beautiful day, with perfect blue skies and no humidity, and even though there ware about 50 billion people at the race, we found parking, and got to our seats easily, and he lemonade guy was right here, and –oh, I’m making this up now, but it was terrific. The race—who cared—but there I was with this fabulous guy, sitting in the sun, and oh, I had a white dress, and a floppy hat, and it was—so romantic. And about halfway through the race, the guy turned to me and said—this is so wonderful. We should get married.

Oh, I said. Yes. Of course. And we watched the rest of the race if a haze of delight and happiness.

Then it was over-- no idea who won--and we floated to our car. Got in. Closed the doors.  Ah, he said. Yeah, I said. We’re not really going to… No, I agreed. We aren’t.

We drove home in silence. You wanna go to a movie? He said. I shrugged. I mean, where did we go from there?  And that was the end of that.   

Several years, later, on another beautiful day, I went to the race with..gosh, I can’t remember. But we were sitting in the stands with a family, the father was a provost, or something, at a local college, and the mother was a professor, and they had two little boys. Part way through the race, there was a HUGE crash. HUGE.  There was fire and debris and explosions and flying metal and obvious horrible disaster. I grabbed the nine year-old boy sitting next to me and hugged him to my chest, trying to prevent him from seeing the devastation. I thought—I don’t want this imprinted in his head.

The kid went bananas. He writhed and squirmed and twisted away—I WANNNA SEEEEE! he yelled.

Love and death.  NeeeOWM. NeeeoWMMMM. NeeeeOWWWWm.

Do you have a Memorial Day childhood ritual?  And because today we remember, I have a copy of Ace Atkins’ New York Times bestseller  LULLABY, the first in his new “writing as Robert B Parker” series—for one lucky commenter!

Comments

[Donna Andrews]

Hank, I don't remember any particular childhood Memorial Day rituals. For ten years, my adult Memorial Day ritual was going to Omaha for Mayhem in the Midlands--which, alas, is no more. So I've joined forces with the friends whose ritual for at least ten years as been going to see Garrison Keillor at Wolftrap.

[lil Gluckstern]

I did the nee-owwm and it works. I like your writing. i can just see you there with your older man, happy and going along with whatever. Oh, to be that young again, for just a minute, of course.

[Hank Phillippi Ryan]

OH, thank you, Lil...Yes, it's a nice memory. (And the Jungle Red Post is Monday, oops!)

And Donna, I was so sad never to have gone to Mayhem...I heard such great things! But whoa, Keillor at Wolftrap--wonderful! (And above average.)

[Karen in Ohio]

Once, and only once, have I been to the Indy 500, but only to the time trials. It was a lot of neee-owwwwmm.

Mostly, we have picnics on Memorial Day, and celebrate family togetherness. We have had a lot of relatives in various wars, and thankfully they all came home from them. My son-in-law is getting ready to go to Afghanistan, and we can only hope our luck holds with him.

[Hank Phillippi Ryan]

Ah, Karen...he is so brave. nd you are so brave . And we are thinking of you with endless gratitude...and much love.

[Karen in Ohio]

Hank, I'm not brave at all, but my daughter and son-in-law? They are awesome.

Thank you, on their behalf.

[Toni L.P. Kelner]

I grew up in Charlotte, NC--NASCAR country--so for me, Memorial Day weekend is World 600 weekend. Same neeooowm, though. Actually, come to think of it, given the Southern penchant for adding more syllables than strictly required, maybe they went: neeeeeooowwwweeeemmmmm.

[Kaye Barley]

I have a friend who was raised in Indianapolis she asked me one time if I wanted to go home with her for "The Race."

I knew the Indy 500 was a big deal, of course, but not until we actually got to the track did I have any idea just how big.

And when the guy said "Gentlemen, start your engines?" oh, wow. Goosebumps.

I was hooked.

Begged to go back every year after that, so we managed to get there 4 or 5 times and we always had the same seats that her dad got through his company. 4th row, 1st turn.

Wonderful memories! No marriage proposals - but wonderful memories.

[Hank Phillippi Ryan]

Yes, Kaye, THE RACE. That's all you need to say. And goosebumps is right--all those people, all that power, all that speed. The sound. I'm not an auto racing fan, in general, but they do rightly call that the Greatest Spectacle in Racing.

[Bruce Gilbert]

Hank, great memories, thanks for sharing. I, too, have to watch each year, some magnetic force still pulling, and this year's edition was amazing. Hoping to hear your audio rendition very soon!

[Hank Phillippi Ryan]

Yes, Bruce-that's so funny..there is some...force. The sound and the power. (Can you believe how fast they go now?) SO lovely to hear from you.and hope to see you soon! xxoxo

[Terry Ambrose]

Sounds to me like someone had too much coffee this morning! Neeeooooowwwww. How much fun is that?

[John Payne Jones]

Mt wife and I were fortunate enough to attend the 500 about 7 or 8 times back in the late 80's ad early 90's even met Fittipaldi, saw Paul Newman, and walked Gasoline alley; but what I really remembered today, and told her, was listening to it on the Radio with my Dad and my uncle in a radio hauled outside back in the late 50's early 60's!

[Dana]

Neeeeooommm! What a collection of memories, Hank--and what an unexpected response from that little boy!

[Hank Phillippi Ryan]

I know..he couldn't believe I was trying to protect him. He was OUTRAGED!

[Hank Phillippi Ryan]

OH, John--that is the nicest thought--we were doing exactly the same thing! Love it...thank you for the memory.

[Elaine Viets]

We always had a big family picnic in the park. It was a tough time for my Dad, a WWII sailor who fought in the Pacific. After the war, Spam was never allowed on the table -- he lived on that stuff for months.

[Marcia Talley]

Elaine, during WW2 my father was a US Marine in the South Pacific, a survivor of Tarawa and Guadacanal. He would never touch a Hershey bar because they came with the K-rations and he was sick to death of them.

[Hank Phillippi Ryan]

So interesting! As I said on the Jungle Red blog, my dad was in the Battle of the Bulge..years and years later, he was a diplomat in the foreign service. After several tours of duty, was assigned to Germany. It really gave him pause.