The Old Guy in the White Suburban

Mom's parents, Nana and Buddy to the people, finally made it up here. It took a good year-and-a-half of coaxing, Mom seizing Buddy's credit card and booking the flights, and much anxiety on everyone's part.  All the people descended upon the airport to pick them up, and there was mayhem and melee for the rest of Sunday evening as we all made up for not having seen each other since Christmas.  Not coincidentally, Nana and Buddy were in town for spring break. This way, Mom and Dad could still go to work and Nana and Buddy could babysit!! (Translate: Mom and Dad don't have to pay for childcare FOR A WHOLE WEEK!!!). 

Monday was fairly uneventful: Nana and Buddy got to watch all three people in tae kwando class and we took them to eat at our favorite local restaurant (Iron Hill Brewery). The restaurant is loud, has an extensive kid's menu that goes well beyond your average chicken-fingers-and-fries-fare, and is reasonably priced.  The chef changes the menu with the seasons, and if the weather is remotely nice, the outdoor tables have a long wait. You may recall that it's the sight of Israel's meltdown last summer regarding an ice cream truck, and her daddy completely letting go of the purse strings and offering to take her shoe shopping if she would "cease melting" (see post from 8/20/10 , including video).  


Tuesday we planned to take Nana and Buddy on a tour of Valley Forge. It's about 30 minutes from our house - an easy tour of history.  The park has an excellent collection of artifacts from the Revolutionary War - personal effects of the soldiers, such as eye glasses, a hair comb, shoes, cooking pans, utensils, a personal journal, even weapons and ammunition.  After examining the artifacts and watching a brief video about the brutalities of what the troops suffered, we took the auto tour around the park - acres and acres of beautiful countryside just blooming into spring. We kept reminding each other of how terrible it was during that winter, and the suffering so many endured to give us what we have now.  General Washington offered a cash prize ($5.00? I think) to the men who could build the first cabin in each regiment.  The cabins - replicas are all over the park - are rudimentary at best. Small, with wooden bunks, earthen floors and no windows, they reek of mildew and damp earth.  And that's just the replicas! The soldiers had so little to work with, and disease and low supplies were their worst enemies that winter. Twelve-thousand men set up camp in late 1777, but only 6,000 survived. Later, as they thawed out and spring came on, several thousand more infused their numbers, strengthening them and thereby ensuring victory against the Crown. But of course, they did not know that at the time.  No actual battles were fought on the fields at Valley Forge, but of course it is a phenomenal testament to the will, determination and character of the brave soldiers who sacrificed so much to attain our freedom.  

My people had seen Valley Forge before, but still loved seeing it again. We had the privilege of walking through the house where General Washington spent the winter - standing in the very place our first president spent that horrible winter. No matter how many times we visit, it is always a humbling experience. 


But I digress! Let's go back to earlier that afternoon, before we even left the house for Valley Forge.  I went to work as usual, but stayed late to prepare for depositions the next day. My cell phone had been ringing off the wall, and when I finally noticed it, Dan was really worked up.  Apparently, the West Chester police just left the house...


Earlier that morning, before school, I told Cole we were taking Nana and Buddy to Valley Forge after school, as a motivator for good behavior that day. Everyone was waiting on me to come home from work.  The people were outside playing, and apparently Cole could not open the front door. We had recently replaced the door knob to the front door, but it was a little cantankerous. When Cole could not open the door, he assumed everyone had left for Valley Forge without him. 

We live in the woods. Our driveway is 9/10 mile off a major highway. It's beautiful, surrounded by the woods, and our neighbors are herds of deer, foxes, a family of raccoons we have watched grow up, and innumerable annoying geese. Oh yeah - and Pepe le Pew (it's always easy to tell when he's mad)!  So Cole took off, on foot, looking for everyone. After a few minutes, Dan, Nana and Buddy began looking for him - Dan on the four-wheeler, Buddy in the Suburban.  Both were getting frantic after several minutes of no-Cole. 


The .9 mile driveway winds through the scenic woods, over a 100-year-old stone bridge, and around another 105-year-old stone building called the "Carriage House." Buddy ventured down the whole of the driveway, continually doubting Cole would walk so far on his own, but at the very second he later admitted he thought he had gone far enough and was going to turn around, he spotted Cole through the trees...walking on the highway.  A. Major. Highway.  


A few kindly souls had stopped along when they observed a six-year-old meandering along a major thoroughfare; so many times since I have said earnestly thanked God for allowing kind people to stop and not the kind we see on an episode of "Dateline." 


Needless to say, when Buddy saw his grandson strolling down a Pennsylvania highway, he got tunnel vision.  The only thing on his mind, he told me later, was to get Cole in the vehicle.  Of course, when he called to Cole, Cole immediately responded, ran to the Suburban and jumped in. Buddy recanted that one of the people who had pulled over and was standing with Cole gave him quite the nasty look. It wasn't until Dan and I exclaimed how surprised we were that the lady didn't question him and/or try to stop him that he realized she probably considered him a possible child abductor!  


Naturally, the police showed up at the house very shortly after Buddy secured the rogue child.  Cole was absolutely, completely, and thoroughly Scared. To. Death.  Cole had broken down into tears once Buddy got him into the Suburban, and by now the adrenaline of trying to go find his family had worn down, and he was terrified the police were going to take him to jail.  A subject for another post (yes, one I should have already written, I know), Cole had a very recent experience with West Chester's finest when he absconded from school.  So. He was justifiably scared when they showed up at the front door....

Speaking of...when the officer knocked on the front door...Dan of course was expecting them by now. Buddy was all too happy to let Dan field the officers' questions.  West Chester's finest asked if Dan had seen, and I quote,"an old guy in a white Suburban" with a young boy.  Restraining himself, Dan replied that yes, his father-in-law had rightfully retrieved Cole from the highway in our white Suburban, and no, there was nothing wrong. Having driven so far back into the woods, the officers were, understandably, a tad bit hesitant to take Dan at his word, but the house seemed in order, Cole was content, and they had no choice but to take Dan at his word.  


Thankfully, I worked through the whole ordeal, consumed by my responsibilities, and knew nothing about the near-disaster.  Absorbed in my work, I had ignored my cell phone. Dan finally called the office. I literally fell to my knees upon hearing that my six-year-old had been rambling down the highway like a vagabond. I raced home, no doubt breaking all kinds of laws in my earnestness to put my arms around my baby, and once home I am pretty certain I shoved Dan aside to get to Cole. His eyes were still dilated, and he was hesitant in seeing me, as if fearful I would be mad. I could not hold him hard enough or close enough. How close had we come to losing him forever! I'll never stop being thankful for the nameless kind souls who stopped on the highway in the middle of their day to see why a young child was alone on the highway.  How many times do we hear about such children being taken in the middle of the day even, in their front yards, from the playgrounds, in a shopping mall? Only to never be heard from again. My heart - normally calloused to my people's constant moanings and groanings about silly inconveniences - truly ached and ached and ached for what might have been, for the loss I might have had.  


Dan and I, along with Nana and Buddy, talked to Cole on and off all day about why you should never walk off like that, never walk down such a busy highway, look to see the car in the driveway, go to the neighbor's house, stay where you are if you are lost.  He soaked it all in with wide eyes and a look on his face that I swear was beyond his years.  He sensed the danger, our fear, and his mistake.  He understood.


On another level, we hounded Buddy all day, and the rest of the week, about being the "old guy in the white Suburban." 

"Watch out! There's a cop - he's probably got an APB on the old guy in a white Suburban." Or - "Why is that guy staring at you? Oh yeah, he probably heard the radio make the announcement for the "old guy in the Suburban."  And on and on it went. He took it all in quite a good humor, which hopefully is intact, as one should not waste such a great moniker!