Bikes and I go a long way back. I don't know where dad got my bikes but I know I had my share and good ones too. They were always used but they were always good! My favorite was a Raleigh 3-speed. I called it my English Bike because it was not made in America, had changeable gears, skinny tires, a lighter frame, and there were not too many around, at least not in Shrewsbury, Pennsylvania in the forties!
My bike was my key to freedom. As a kid I could go anywhere and everywhere. I pedaled all over Shrewsbury, Glen Rock, Hungerford, New Freedom, Railroad, and every other little town nearby. One of my most adventurous rides was a ride to Hanover just to get an ice cream cone. Hanover is about twenty miles from Shrewsbury. A forty mile ride for a quickly devoured ice cream cone. But it sure was worth it!
I found out last week about another bike ride that was an important part of my family as well. I don't know what kind of bike it was. I'm not sure if it had skinny tires or fat tires, gears or single-speed, English or American. All I know was it was a very important bike and a very interesting story.
The story begins near East Berlin, Pennsylvania, more than 60 years ago, with a young man whose buddy had a girlfriend over in West York. And wouldn't you know she's got a cute friend--Nancy. There's a summer romance separated by 15 miles and a county line that was crossed again and again and again . . . on a bicycle. Richard, 20 years old at the time, was pedaling faithfully all the way, both ways, every day, and many times.
There were dates to the bowling alley, then a ring, six kids, bunches of grandkids, ups and downs, and life together for 61 years!
Missy, the youngest of the couple's six children, said her parents met and fell in love as teenagers. Her dad often joked about his regular bicycle trips from his home to York, where Nancy lived. "I'm not even sure exactly how they met," Missy said. "But he would ride his bicycle down to see mom, I think, every night."
"They married young, started a family and made a home in Hanover. All of their children--three girls and three boys still live in the area," Missy said.
"Getting by for years on just dad's truck-driver's salary, the family was hardly wealthy." But they did all they could for their children. I couldn't ask for a better set of parents," Missy said.
With a lifetime of cherished memories, soon a black-and-white picture of the couple, holding one another and smiling at Richard's 80th birthday party last year, became another memory. That picture was used in the York Daily Record's obituary column last week. Twice.
Nancy, 77, died at home on a cold Sunday morning in Hanover. She died in her sleep, peacefully. The family met, cried, remembered. The clock on the wall said 12:25. They would now head to the York Hospital to deliver the bad news. Richard was not thinking as clearly as he was just days before. The family who feared that their dad would have to be put in a home--a place he'd often made them promise he'd never be taken--was listening as Richard was saying things no one could understand and was asking for a drink of water. The clock in his room was stuck on 12:25.
Family members tried to comfort him with words and water as he said over and over, "Pull me up." It continued that way for some time and finally there was a long, deep breath, a pause, and then theses words from a man who served his country in wartime, and then saw it from a truck's cab with his wife by his side.
"Hold me tighter now."
A minute later he was gone.
Off to be with the woman he fell in love with 60-plus years ago. Two people unable to be apart.
I suppose I'm a little off the subject here except for the bike ride from East Berlin to York and back, but the story is on my heart and I'll surely not forget it. Nancy is my sister and Richard, we called him Dick, is my brother-in-law.
I didn't get to see them very often but family is always family. At the funeral and afterwards I spoke with family members as we laughed, cried, and caught up. Mostly we laughed because of the memories we shared. One of my favorite quotes is, "Memory is a wonderful treasure chest for those who know how to pack it." Well, Nancy and Dick had their treasure chest packed to the limit. Their kids and grandkids shared and remembered the many years together.
And . . . they still tell about the bike rides from East Berlin to York.
Nancy A. Trimmer
July 3, 1934 - January 8, 2012
Richard C. Trimmer Sr.
December 19, 1930 - January 8, 2012
No comments:
Post a Comment