MAE JULIAN
Growing up a Waynedale Kid
Dear Waynedale friends,
I was going to give you some more dandy Derby recipes but our editor is doing Waynedale stories this time and I was requested to submit my two cents worth.
I reeled my brain back to my young years in Waynedale. I left at age 19 to be married and unfortunately have lived away from home ever since, transferring to this city and that, as my husband changed jobs and grew with the company. I have never been anyplace in my many years to compare with Waynedale though. Perhaps it is just a myth of youth, or perhaps there really is no place like home but thinking of home can bring laughter and sunshine, even on a most dreary day. I know that all of you have heard that tears and laughter are separated by a very thin line. I have no idea what causes this to be so, but it seems that this phenomena proved to be true the day that we buried my father. He was the world’s best dad, and the loss of him was the greatest tragedy of my life. But, he had the greatest sense of humor, and we knew that he would be laughing the hardest on the day of his funeral when we pulled this prank: Our house is directly across from the Post Office in Waynedale. It still is. A big change came when they made the other side of the road commercial. The Brydon’s house, and all the other houses directly across from ours became non-residential. We did not like it, as it increased the traffic, and decreased the hominess of our neighborhood on Old Trail Road. The day of my father’s funeral was one of those days that seemed would never end, and the heaviness felt on the heart is there for a lifetime. We were all sitting on the front porch of our house, in a thunderstorm, and across the street, cars kept coming in, circling around, and an arm would reach out and deposit a letter in the mail box there. We were a sorry lot, and the grief was overwhelming as we just sat on the porch and watched the endless cars circle in, deposit, and leave. One of my five brothers got an inspiration, conferred with the rest of us, and the plot was hatched and carried out. He went across the street with a home made sign that said OUT OF ORDER and hug it on the post office drop box. He came back and we waited. We watched the cars come in, drive around, go to the mailbox, and hesitate. The depositor would sit and read the sign, think, look around, seem puzzled, and then drive away without depositing his letter. the first time it happened we laughed. As each succeeding car came around we watched with great anticipation. Not a single person deposited a letter. We got to laughing so hard that tears were running down our faces and we were doubled over with laughter. This went on for the better part of the afternoon. I have often wondered what people thought, knowing we had all just lost our father, yet were laughing uproariously. I remember that as the saving grace of the day. The pain was too much to bear. It was pouring rain. Our lives were changed forever. But laughter, the balm of the soul, came to us. We always thought that Dad was right there on the porch laughing with us. He would have gotten the biggest laugh of all. I have wondered since, if it is a sin to laugh in the face of such a great tragedy. I’ve never talked to anyone else about it, except our family. I wonder if any others of you have had such a strange experience? When all the world was collapsing around us, I think Dad came to us, inspired us, and we had that last day together. Bless my dad forever, for his sense of humor which still reigns high in our family. It is the saving grace for us, and has carried us through many rough times. It is a gift. It is our father’s gift to us. I loved Waynedale and I love it still. It is a unique place where nothing felt ever the same again, once I left it. I am grateful for Waynedale. It is the foundation of my life.
Love to all my Waynedale friends,
Mae Julian
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