Sometimes you meet someone who makes an impact on you for the most surprising reasons. I start up casual conversations with countless people. It's my thing. I am truly intrigued by peoples' stories. While at "The Flintstone Village" two years ago I met the man who drove the cars around a small track. He proudly gave us all the stats on the car. The first year we rode in Fred's car and the following year it was Barney's car. Both cars are built on the body of a Volkswagen Beetle, which I love! He knew the mileage and how many of those miles he had driven. He was completely joyful in his job despite how mundane it really seemed. He drove in a circle, the same circle, all day long, hauling tourists who probably asked him the same question everyday. After our initial meeting I didn't soon forget our friendly driver. He was so kind and excited. He loved the theme park and seemed genuinely proud to have been a part of the Flintstone's Village for so many years. Fast forward to 2015. We return to the little run down theme park for what may be our last time. Rumors had been circulating for a few years that for many reasons The Flintstone's Village would be closing permanently. After having several theme parks from Canada to Mexico the only remaining theme park was in Custer, South Dakota. It wasn't likely that they would be opening due to the high costs for the licensing rights. Plus, how many kids are into the Flintstones?
We went talked Grandma and Grandpa Halter into coming with us and I'm thinking it was there first trip to the notorious theme park. We went before the hysteria hit the streets and they announced their closing. It was a ghost town. A few nostalgic adults returned who had brought their now adult kids and some others with small kids who played on the 1980's treacherous play equipment. It was windy and almost eerie. The beautiful, mature aspen trees that rustled in the wind seemed to tell the tale of watching kids run and play for nearly 50 years. The buildings with decades of caked on paint and scenes that had been staged years ago stood in solidarity. The deteriorating theater played episodes of the show on repeat while an odor of mold surrounded the viewers. The smell of freshly popped popcorn tried to overcome the smell without success. We chugged along on the mini-train that toured the park. The day felt bittersweet and I couldn't quite put my finger on it. This wasn't a place of importance to my childhood, as I said, I had only been there once before. I had only taken my children there one time so it wasn't something I associated with my own kids. Finally, last night, it came to me. It wasn't the place that has stuck with me this whole, time, but the person.
The man who drove the vehicles has stuck with me for nearly five months after we rode with him. When we were wrapping up our final trip around the oval he had driven countless times I asked him if he was sad that the Flintstones Village was closing. I think I expected him to be devastated because I handle anything ending so poorly. Anyone who knows me can verify that. The end of any vacation, *sometimes the end of the school year, the end of high school, end of college, the end of the show Brothers & Sisters, and pretty much the end of any show. I don't like ends. I'm more of a beginning type gal. Approaching endings make me incredibly anxious. Even ends that result in a happy beginning bring me lots of tears and turmoil. For example, I spent much of the evening before having Little Brother crying because it was the last time we would be a family of 3! Completely ridiculous! A family of 4 is way better and I've never been sad about not being a family of 3.
The man's response was so wise that it is no wonder I refer back to it all the time. His response was, "Well...Yes and no, but mostly no because everything has an end." Then he looked at me and flashed the friendliest smile. So I knew he meant it. On top of not loving ends I also don't love the changing of my babies. Most recently I've battled with Little Brother's clothes not being baby clothes anymore. He doesn't wear 24 months, now he wears 2T. Since both of my "babies" are now toddlers they wear the T clothes. It was a tough blow that caught me off guard. I didn't expect that to be sad. I was sad once my babies went off the bottle, and I'm also seeing that our need for sippy cups is dwindling. Items like high chairs that seemed essential for so long have been in the basement for months. Little Brother is still in a crib, but really for how long? Baby Waider is so grown up it is inconceivable. Crawling, walking, playing patty cake, and talking are skills that are mastered in this house.
I find that I'm doing much better with all of this because when I start getting near and end and start getting all teary I think back to my friend's words, "Everything has an end." While it is incredibly sad, it is inevitable. My thinking of this person doesn't end here. I also think about how much he enjoyed his work. Even though to others it could be conceived as mundane or boring. He probably wasn't sad that it was over because he enjoyed every moment of it he could. I am doing the same with you. I am coloring to no end and making a ton of play dough cookies. I am reading books about sharks and working on lots of puzzles. Mundane? Maybe. Will it end? Absolutely. Just like everything it will end and before I know it coloring, puzzles, and play dough will end. The advice that my friend left out or didn't have the opportunity to mention was that with every end is a new beginning. I never want anything to end, but most of the time I am completely thrilled with what begins, and in turn do not want it to end.
This story that is probably long and drawn out so here are the big takeaways I have for you. 1. Talk to strangers. (not the creepy kind.) 2. Listen to old people. 3. Enjoy everything because even if it is or seems boring- 4. Everything has an end. Good and bad.
I wish I knew where I could find that guy and thank him for his advice. So I guess I have a fifth takeaway. 5. You never know when you will make a difference in someone's life.
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| The smile on that guy says it all! |
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| Such a neat place. I'm glad I went. |
Love Always,
Your overly sentimental Mama.
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