For years I measured things in my life either “Before the World's Fair” or "After the World’s Fair”. It’s not that it was life changing or anything like that. I think it was mostly because it was the biggest event in my life for a long time. That unit of measure has long since been replaced by associating past events with whichever of my kids were or weren’t born, or how old they were at any particular time.
Strangely, I don't remember the ride up or back with Nona and Eleanore, but I do remember it with Auntie Anna.
We had a Rambler station wagon. This was one of those station wagons that had three bench seats. The third seat was way in the back and it was one of those that when the back was folded down, it was pretty much a luggage deck, but when the back was folded up, it made a tiny, rear facing seat between the two rear tire wells. It was almost big enough to fit two small children, as long as they didn’t need any leg room.
The usual lay of the land was that Mom and Dad would sit in the front seat, my brother and two of my sisters would sit in the middle seat, and I and my remaining sister (hereafter referred to as, “Short Straw”) would be in the way back.
That was the usual lay of the land- when it was just the seven of us, which was almost always. But when we had a guest, which Auntie Anna was, then different arrangements were made- which is to say, everything stayed exactly the same except Auntie Anna was wedged in between me and Short Straw in the tiny way back seat. How this was even accomplished, I have no idea. Auntie Anna wasn’t obese or anything, but she wasn’t petite either. She was definitely the biggest out of the eight of us.
The seat belt didn't help. Back then, seat belts in cars were optional. Dad bought this car with seat belts for all of the other seats, but the way back seat didn’t come with any, so Dad had a seat belt installed. He claimed it was for safety reasons, though I have my doubts. You’re strapping, essentially me, in the unprotected very rear of the car, directly over the gas tank. I was one thin piece of sheet metal shy of being strapped directly to the rear bumper.
But anyway, Dad had one installed, and when I say “one”, I mean “one”. It was one long seat belt that usually strapped me in, along with Short Straw, but in this case, it somehow managed to tie me, Short Straw and Auntie Anna- into one barely contained, bulging heap. Picture a fleur de lis- Auntie Anna would be the one in the middle and me and Short Straw would be spilling over the sides while the seat belt cut into us like a thirty inch belt around a fifty inch waist.
There are are four things in particular that I remember about the ride with Auntie Anna (aside from stopping to pick what turned out to be weeds that everyone was allergic to). First, she liked perfume- the strong kind. Second, she had a white plastic “wicker-look” pocketbook that squeaked whenever she opened or closed it- which she did a lot. Third, she hummed, also a lot. And the fourth thing I remember is that whenever Auntie Anna repeated herself, whether she was asked to repeat herself or not, she would preface the exact same remark with “I say…”, and then say it again. This wouldn’t have been so unusual if it was in response to someone saying, “What did you just say?” But usually it was in response to no one saying anything. I think what made it worse than usual was that she was mostly trying to talk to Dad, and he was at the other end of the car- and facing the other direction besides.
I say all of this like it was an awful ride, and it kinda was- but not completely. And the thing is, if Auntie Anna were still around, she’d probably laugh about this harder than anyone.
Someday, I’ll write about the main point of the trip, but not tonight. For now, here’s a couple of clips of Expo 67. I assume the first is being narrated by Inspector Clouseau and the background music on the second one gets kind of annoying but somehow, that makes it even better.
