George and Patricia

    Jim and I were at the marina at Lake Mattoon this summer getting registration stickers for a new paddleboat.  I was waiting in the car while Jim went inside to fill out the paperwork when I noticed a red pickup truck parked nearby.  An older woman (and by older, i’m meaning someone who looked like she graduated from high school at least a few years before I did) was sitting quietly in the passenger seat.  Nothing unusual about the woman, nothing unusual about a truck with a boat hitch at the marina, nothing usual about the truck itself--except that written on the side of the passenger door was simply the name “Patricia.”

    Shortly thereafter, an older man wearing bib overalls (and by older, I’m meaning someone who looked like he graduated from high school at least a few years before JIm did) came out of the marina office, climbed into the truck, and drove away, but not before he did a three point turn that enabled me to read what was clearly written on the driver’s side door of the truck.  That door simply said “George.”

    Now, I can’t swear that the couple in the red truck were Patricia and George, but I’m guessing they were.  And I don’t really know anything about the erstwhile Patricia and George.  I don’t know if they’ve been married a long time, if they live in Neoga or Mattoon, if they head out to Lake Mattoon to fish or if they just like to putter around the lake on a little johnboat.  I don’t know if they dote on a couple of grandkids or cheer for the Cardinals.  But I’m pretty sure that there are some significant ways that they are different from Jim and me.  

    Every year when Jim and I sign our income tax forms we trade off who gets to sign on the first line as Signee and who has to sign on the second line as Spouse, even though it’s been years since there’s been a W2 form with my name on it attached.  I’m guessing that Patricia and George don’t have that debate.  Every time Jim and I head to the car to drive somewhere, we look at each other and ask, ‘Want to drive?’  (And since I tend to drive a bit faster and Jim likes to read, I usually end up in the drivers seat.) I’m guessing that Patricia and George don’t have that conversation.  And I’m pretty sure that there’s not a car at Patricia and George’s home that has ‘Patricia on the driver’s side door and ‘George’ on the passenger door.

    George and Patricia reminded me more of my late parents’ generation than my own.  Although my parents didn’t have a pickup truck, and although there weren’t any names painted on the doors of their Chevy sedan, it was always a given that if they were going somewhere together that Marshall would be driving and Leslie would be in the passenger seat.

   Maybe it was that resemblance to my parents but I was touched by George and Patricia.  It’s not uncommon to see names on pickup trucks in Neoga, but those names are almost always male.  Sometimes, those names have ‘and son’ added on.  But hurrah for George, who, although he clearly wanted the drivers seat, also clearly wanted the world to know who he wanted by his side!

   As, for over fifty years, did my Dad!