scotland

Help Me, Rhonda reminds me of Scotland.

Today we were doing errands in the car, two grand babies in the back, and I put in our Beach Boys CD to combat the rainy day.

They liked it. It got very quiet in the backseat and b.g. even fell asleep.

Julia was crazy about Help Me, Rhonda that winter when she was three. Tim liked Surfin' USA. James liked the back up singer in Fun, Fun, Fun, "You shouldn't-a lied now, you shouldn't'a lied."



I told Maria her favorite was Sloop John B. I'd point out the lyrics to her and she'd scowl at me and roll her eyes: "Him and his grandpa, fighting in bars. The cook threw out his grids. This is a ROTTEN trip."

Mo-THER.

Anyway, Kirsten studied there for a semester in 2007, and because of the Internet, we had pictures, email, videos, no need to wait for letters from across the ocean.

She did make me mail her Easy Mac though.

Did you know it costs over $30 to mail Easy Mac to Scotland?

Anyway, here's something I wrote back in 2007 after we dropped her off at the airport.

"Kirsten is a sophomore at the university, and she’s going to study in Scotland for a semester. The whole thing is so exciting, such an opportunity as she may never have again.

Yesterday we drove her out to the airport, and she’s a procrastinator, was packing all night before the flight, writing thank you notes to everyone who gave her going away gifts, too excited to sleep. Dan asked if she was still packing in the car?

Nooo, not quite.

We drove to the airport, drab January morning, flat white sky, tree branches dark and bare, yet the whole world felt expansive and golden with anticipation.

In January I bought a Beach Boys CD, needing a little southern California sun and sand, and we turned it up loud and all the little kids, strapped into car seats in their puffy winter coats, sang along at the top of their lungs, laughing, “Two, three, four! One, two, three, four! Help me, Rhonda, Help, help me Rhonda. Help me Rhonda, Help, help me Rhonda."

It felt like summer in the car.

At the airport there was the ceremonial weighing of the bags—bags almost as big as Kirsten herself is.

The little kids amused themselves looking through plate glass at the escalator, an endless stream of people coming up, everyone going places; the energy of the whole building is wonderful.

A pilot paused to give them trading cards of his plane and Tim, age four, finally turned to his dad and asked of the escalator, “How does this work?” Jay explained something about chains underneath and we laughed.

Finally it was time to say good-bye. She had a hard time, hugging all the little brothers and sisters, and Kari who is Kirsten’s little soul mate, her buddy, wept and that made Kirby weepy too. Kari’s the little sister too just like Kirsten is little sister to the older kids, and nobody understands how that feels quite like Kirby does.

After a few minutes of this I hugged my arms around her and said, “Don’t linger here where it makes you sad. Go, have your adventure. They’re waiting to x-ray your shoes.”

She laughed, dried her eyes, hugged everyone one more time, dried her eyes again, took a deep breath and headed over to have her purse searched.

It’s a good thing. She’s not going to Iraq or Afghanistan; it’s just study abroad. We’ll see her again in May. She kept waving to us once beyond the gate, waving one more time, and one more time. Already she’s sent a giddy email telling all about the dorm in Scotland."

Ahhh, fun to remember on a rainy day. love you, Kirsten, Mom