Sally and Elsie, A Mother Daughter Adventure

A crisply uniformed driver named Dewitt knocked on the front door of the house my mother may never see again, with his shiny Lincoln Town Car waiting for us in the driveway. There was confusion at the house, and some disagreements going on in my sister's family, in very fast french I did not understand. Elsie was asking constant questions about where we were going, did I pack her curlers, "where's Ernie?" "where's my key?" etc. Then it was as if someone pushed the "pause" button on the angry French verbiage, and we all exchanged hugs. Elsie and I stretched our legs in the back and took a big sigh as the vehicle smoothly backed away. We got a final view of the house as Stephanie, Baudouin and Sophie waved furiously, us waving back with our arms stretched outside the powered tinted windows. We turned the corner and that was it. Phew! All was packed. Mom had her purse. She had her key. I assured her she had her bag with her curlers in it. I had her medications! Dewitt saw the nasty bangs on my right shin which were dripping blood, and offered me a first aid kit. He also had ice. I told him about me sleeping next to my mother for the past two nights in the very spot where my father had slept. While packing her things that morning, I got three severe bangs from the bed frame on that side.

Dewitt was fascinated about my fathers Military Honors ceremony at Arlington Cemetery, and knew the proceedings well: the flag draped casket pulled by horses, the best military band in the nation, the 21-gun salute, the folding of the flag and handing it to my mother with a salute. I then told him that we had priceless family history going back many generations in those four heavy suitcases back there. He shook his head and went, "Mmm, mmm! You gotta hang onto that!"

We all chatted as scenery smoothly whizzed by. Taking expressways, there was no traffic. Dewitt turned his head back at us and asked what airline we were flying. I didn't even know! Well, all I had to do was look in my IPhone at the email Frank sent me. All was arranged. "Delta," I responded. We must have been getting pretty close to National Airport now. I remembered that Randy had handed me Moms lifetime Delta Crown Club life membership card, and we would be early enough to munch on free food and sip wine in their special lounge. A classy finale to an honorable, elegant and distinguished trip!

Opening my wallet to check on our IDs, I noticed Elsie's drivers license was not in it's usual spot. I carried all her important stuff. My drivers license was there, where was Moms? I didn't want to think about the consequences of not having official photo identification; we were flying out of the highest security airport in the nation! I checked all my wallet compartments. At least I had Moms crown club card. Then I checked all through my purse. Nothing. I took a deep breath. Elsie asked, "Did you loose something?" I checked her purse, rummaging through the wadded Kleenex, and pulled out her wallet. Two dollars and an expired credit card with her name on it. No drivers license!

My breathing became faster and my hands were shaking. I called Frank, who was in Indiana. He said he would go right away and check to see if he somehow had it. Maybe he could take a picture of it and send it to me. Dewitt could feel the anxiety filling the interior of his beautiful Town Car, and suggested that we pull over and pop the trunk to see what was in there.

The phone rang. It was Frank. He had searched everything and found nothing. A large lump was forming in my throat and my voice started shaking. Dewitt pulled over and stopped. Reminding me of the generations of our family history in the trunk, he thought there might be something we could use, maybe even an old birth certificate. I got out of the car and hung up the phone. Leaning into the trunk, I unzipped the first heavy bag. There were frames with old photos, large envelopes containing stacks of papers, a 120-year old wedding dress, old medical instruments, and a stack of newspaper clippings of my mother from 1942. She was in the finals for Miss Maryland, and there was her picture with her name below it! The Washington Star, Sunday edition. There was also her baby book, with a doctors report. Not much, but at least something! Wow! It cost only $27.00 for my grandmother to give birth to my Mom, including a five-night hospital stay!

OK, Sally, focus. With the crispy, fragile papers in hand, we all slid back into the car and made our way to Delta departures. I was either picturing me and Mom living at National Airport for a few days, or, God forbid, having to go back to that house indefinitely, or taking the train to Portland. My head was spinning as Dewitt suggested that I go give it a try, and he would circle around. We left all the baggage in his trunk as we walked in. I was holding Elsie's hand as we scurried through the quickly revolving doors. We found the check-in line.

With each step closer, my face grew redder. Elsie was smiling because she was going on a trip!

Finally it was my turn. I shuffled up to the counter, still holding Elsie's hand, and a nice Indonesian man greeted us. I almost collapsed. Tears were streaming down now, as I choked out, "I can't find my mothers drivers license!" I also mouthed silently, "She has Alzheimer's!" the man said, "calm down, now what do you have that you can show me about your Mom?"

I placed the tattered press clipping and the 87 year-old baby book on the counter, along with her crown club card and expired credit card, feeling hopeless. He gently picked them up, examined them and looked kindly into my Moms face. She returned one of her signature warm smiles. He responded, " yes, that's the same woman, and the same wonderful smile!" he then called for his supervisor, while reassuring me that we had a good chance. The man checking in next to me turned and said he was a cardiologist and was ready to assist me if needed.

The supervisor was a tall, dark skinned woman, her black, shiny hair pulled back tightly into a bun, who seemed both firm and flexible. She nodded to me in an exaggerated way, "Your mother is on a return flight to Portland?" I nodded back, my chin going way up and down.
"Alright, then. You should be fine." The kind Indonesian asked for bags to check. Elsie and I had to go back out there and find the driver!

Dewitt pulled up seconds later and pulled four heavy bags out of the trunk. Porters were ready and waiting, but hey, the suitcases all rolled! Both of us hard-wired to be thrifty, we managed to get them all through those swiftly revolving doors by ourselves. Dewitt waved and smiled, happy it all was working out, and thankful for his much deserved generous tip.

Elsie and I maneuvered back to the Delta counter like two clumsy mules. The cardiologist was still there, and helped us check the luggage, along with our Indonesian friend.

Time was ticking by, and we had more than the maximum carry- on allowed. The next hurdle was getting through security. Would those uniformed government employees be as nice? Let's see, we needed boarding passes and ID. All the people ahead of us in line had drivers licenses or passports, and the officials were examining them carefully with flashlights.

Deep breath, Sally! A woman in her thirties with a flawless dark complexion wearing the official navy blue uniform examined my drivers license and boarding pass. My hand shook as I handed her Elsie's expired plastic cards, her baby book, the press clippings,with her picture and name on it. "A finalist for 'Miss Maryland!" she exclaimed. I shot back nervously, "Yes, isn't she beautiful?"

We were waved through and then escorted aside. "We need to do body scans on both of you," said a uniformed man. Elsie stood first in the enclosed glass tube, and was waved on, separate from me now. I yelled, "please stay with her!" I then had the same scan, watching my Mom the whole time. We then both had the complete wand search. As our shoes, jackets and scarves emerged on the conveyor belt, everything stopped.

"Are you Sally Harmon?" asked a stern inspector. "Yes," I calmly nodded. "Is this your purse?" "Yes." "We need to take everything out," they demanded. I relaxed on one of two chairs they gave Elsie and me. "At least we get to relax, Mom," I joked. There was nothing of interest in there. Seconds later, they held up a rifle shell and asked, "What's this?"

I told them of the ceremony at Arlington Cemetery and how I got this as a memento from the 21-gun salute. I apologized that I had forgotten to check it! They called another supervisor. He looked at the shell and looked at us. He called his supervisor. An older man of small stature arrived after a few tense moments. He examined the bullet.
"This is a special shell that is only used by the Air Force in Military Honors ceremonies. My condolences to you, Ma'am for your loss." He saluted my Mom.

We finally headed for the gate, giddy and dizzy by now. We stopped and bought snacks for the plane. With too much carry on and a warm bag of goodies plus drinks, they scanned our boarding passes. They tried again. And again. "We need to pull you aside," she said. We were three feet from the boarding ramp! Now what? Another supervisor had to do another search on us because we were tagged as "random security check." That last wave through onto the plane made me feel like a baby surviving the final push of childbirth!

Finally nestled in our seats on the plane, we celebrated with our splurge purchase. Foot-long pretzel dogs and strawberry lemonade! Elsie said it was the best food she had ever had.