Published by the Times-Georgian–May 13, 2012
By Joe Garrett
My mother was never on time.
When it was her turn to drive in my elementary school carpool, my friends knew we would be the last kids picked up. I used to think her watch was broken. The reality was she was coordinating rides for my two brothers while being responsible for my carpool.
Once she arrived at Central Primary School, we would board her Mercury station wagon that had enough wood paneling to start a bonfire. We could have easily walked home to our Chapel Heights neighborhood, but I’m part of the generation whose parents had to start worrying about kidnappers and other bad guys.
On this Mother’s Day, I want to honor all the moms who chauffeur and have chauffeured their children and their friends from place to place.
Mildred Musselwhite was one of my favorite chauffeurs as a child. I even called her little red station wagon a limousine because I would sit in the backseat as she drove me home from school. By no means was her limo a show car. As a matter of fact, that car was so slow her son Craig could outrun it in his tennis shoes. No wonder he grew up to be a track superstar and state champion winning coach.
I’m convinced my wife Ali drives 100 miles per day in her SUV just in the city limits of Carrollton to haul my boys from school and other activities. Today’s station wagon is the SUV and I’m grateful to the motor companies for this advancement. I must admit, however, that I still sometimes long for riding in the back of a wood panel station wagon again.
My sons will never know the feeling of riding without seatbelts.
When my mother, Mildred Musselwhite or Irene Duffey would carpool, they just loaded Cindy Musselwhite Muse, Heather Duffey North and me in the backseat of their cars without seatbelts. If Mildred ever slammed on her brakes, she would look back at us and say with a big smile–“Wasn’t that fun?”
It actually was, but like today’s parents–I want my kids to buckle.
Pat Murrah and Linda Haney were my other favorite chauffeurs as a child. They drove Joe Murrah, Sam Haney and me to hundreds of ball games and movies. Jean Muse would drive me and her son Donnie to either the D&R Shoppette or the Four Lane Shoppette across from Big Chic for an afternoon snack. Like my mother, these moms also drove station wagons with fake wood panels.
There was never a boring minute when my friends and I were together in a station wagon. We would talk and play games in the backseat such as “Rock, Paper, Scissors” and “Mercy.” Things would usually be fine until someone would pass gas and the boys would erupt in laughter.
“Y’all need to know that’s inappropriate,” we often heard. “It’s time you boys think about growing up.”
As a father of four boys, I’m absolutely amazed at the art of motherhood. By the time it takes me to walk the 10 feet from my back door to my car parked in the driveway, my wife can make four sandwiches, check homework, comb my sons’ hair, prepare their breakfast and 50,000 other things.
There’s really something special about a mother. I’m lucky that I’ll be able to visit my mother today, but something is missing.
This will be the first Mother’s Day without my childhood chauffeurs Pat Murrah and Jean Muse who passed away last summer. Maybe somewhere in Heaven they’re looking down at us today with a smile. Perhaps they’re going out for a special lunch. I just hope Mildred Musselwhite picks them up in her red limo. It’s her week to drive.
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