I CLINK TO THE OLE BLUE GOOSE AND ROSES DAD…

The ole blue goose is what he called it. That spitting sputtering light baby blue piece of awesomeness with a white top and white walls on the tires. Some memories come back that are like an instant hug and a giant bowl of comfort food that just floods your soul with awesome gooey goodness. Walking to grade school was no joke when the cold winds of Colorado were sharp enough to bite at your skin and sting your frost bit fingers. Although well prepared for the conditions in our wool coats, layers upon layers and the ever-popular mittens on string that slipped through each coat opening by yarn that went behind your back and through the sleeves. Those mittens were really meant to prohibit children from loosing their mittens all the time I am sure and I always seemed to have one mitten dangling far lower then the other one out my sleeve. Kim and I all bundled would leave the driveway for out walk up urban street, then turn on Katherine and up the hill and across to school. I am not saying we had to walk up hill in the snow for ten miles or anything but it was a jaunt and for sure it was less then ideal in a Colorado blizzard. So here we are, Kim holding my hand and my face and body completely covered to the point I couldn’t not see a thing even if I wanted to. I could however hear the ole blue goose in the background and believe me it was pure music and hope to two cold girls in the cold. See we knew that if the Ole blue goose came down our street Rose’s dad would stop and give us a ride to school. He would pull up, Rose his daughter in the front seat would very slowly roll down the window that was already fogged over from the cold and ask if we wanted a ride. Most of the time the heater in the goose didn’t work so well and we would have to wipe windows with our mittens to be able to see out. Rose’s dad would wipe the windows in the front wind shield with a rag and bang on the dash to get the defrost to work. Back in the sixties there was a finesse to driving on the ice and snow as there was no four-wheel drive or front week drive, it was mostly driving the best you can with maybe chains on the tires, something heavy in the trunk for weight and a prayer you didn’t get stuck. But Roses dad was a slip sliding, all in and gas to the floor, plow through it with all you got driving Ninja. Honestly Kim and I would hunker down in the back seat and hold each other tight as the ole goose slid from side to side, spinning and creaking, sputtering all the way to the school yard to drop us off. Roses dad would get out when we got to school with the engine still running and open the door, he would help Rose out first and then lift the seat forward for us to get out. Then Kim would hold both our hands and take us in to school. Rose was in Kim’s grade and one of her very dear friends, but Rose wasn’t just like Kim. Rose was slower, her speech hard to understand sometimes and she walked with one arm tucked up tight to her side and one leg that didn’t move very well so she walked slower than others. Kim made it her personal responsibility to take care of her, eat with her and at recess defend her against any bullies who wanted to hurt her, Rose in turn gave Kim unconditional friendship, love and trust like no other. We all went to grade school together but when it was time for junior high Rose had to attend a school that could accommodate her unique challenges. It was years later that we heard of Roses passing and only a short time after that Roses dad passed too. Two things I don’t’ know to this day, Roses dads name or the make and model of the ole blue goose. I do know this for sure that I was beyond blessed and most honored to have ridden in a blue chariot of pure kindness, along with truly salt of the earth Angels among us. I haven’t seen or heard the ole blue goose in many, many years, my hope is that when the good Lord called Rose and her Dad home to heaven he took the ole blue goose too. My other hope is that when Kim passed she heard that familiar spit and sputter coming down from the heavens and she climbed in with Rose and her Dad who took her home in the most grand and blue goose style. My sister believed with all her heart that everyone mattered, that all life matters regardless… I pray we leave for future generations a blue goose story an imagine and reminder of the who, what, when and where in this life that really does matter.. YM

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