By Linda Andrews Kendz - May 11, 1999 I packed a picnic lunch on an overcast day in May, and urged my mother-in-law Elaine to get ready for a little outing. My husband John would be busy on a conference call, so our departure would be well timed. Throughout the years, I pampered Elaine and occupied her when she came for visits. On this particular visit, I planned an afternoon out for the two of us, like I would spend with my mother. I had tried to find that place with Elaine, where mothers and daughters go together and I had tried going to that place with her over the years. But I was the driver, the servant, the talk show host. She was my passenger, my superior, my important guest. “So, where are you taking me?” She wanted to know, as we backed down the driveway. “A magical mystery tour. We’re going to some of my favorite spots on the way to the market.” We set out on the highway that connected rural byways leading to the assortment of small towns on a twenty mile trip to Easton. Twelve minutes into the trip we approached the halfway point with the college on the right and corn fields on the left. Elaine announced that she needed to find a bathroom, suggesting that I stop at the college. I waited patiently in the parking lot like a chauffeur as she made a steady path to a main door of the aquatic center. I waited through several songs by JethroTull, Randy Newman and another ten minutes of assorted music that was burned on a cd. Then Elaine climbed back in the car. Our next stop three miles away was the Wye Oak, the gargantuan old white oak tree that was the largest of its kind. I loved this four hundred and fifty year old tree tree, with its thirty foot circumference and enormous structure of far reaching limbs. Its mammoth proportion was juxtaposed by a colonial brick one room school house. Towering grain silos sat across the road. We set out our lunch at a rustic picnic table close to the tree. The wax paper rustled as we unwrapped sandwiches bulging with sprouts and tomato. I had picked up ice cream from a country store in this village, and scooped it into dishes I had brought along. We plucked from a cluster of green grapes that sat on a napkin as conversation revolved around her stories about “the men in her family”, and I listened kindly and interjected politely. Elaine wasn’t as moved as I was by this old giant that held its canopy over us. I had hoped that she would feel inspired like I did by this sacred landmark. “If you only knew the men in my family!” She beamed, as she wove together little stories about her brother and her sons with their wonderful achievements, processions and handsome looks. She was dreamy eyed when she spoke of her oldest son. “Such an Adonis.” She sighed. I sighed. I did know these men, and had been married to her younger son for almost two decades. On to Easton, to Jonas’s Attic- a Metaphysical Five and Dime. This shop was the go-to place for anyone who was submerged in the world of crystals, healing, and assorted spiritual paths. It offered all the paraphernalia that might be needed to accompany one on a journey, including flowing cotton clothing, all laced with the scented molecules of Indian incense. I took in the familiar smell. Elaine chatted for quite a while with Barb the owner who was perched on a stool behind a showcase filled with jewelry. I picked through small baskets of smooth stones like aventurine, citrine, and tourmaline, filling a faux suede pouch, and then I flipped through the books. I thought this place to be common ground for Elaine and me. She considered it to be a waste of time, and she let me know that when we left. “I didn’t care for that woman,” Elaine decided after talking to her for over a half an hour. “She thinks she’s so smart.” On the same block as this shop was Washington Street Pub, a deep, narrow space with an old fashioned bar on the left side and a row of wooden booths down the right. An apron of mosaic tile led the way from the sidewalk into the big entrance to this long cavernous place. “I need to use their bathroom,” Elaine announced. She marched directly into the pub, which was fairly empty at two in the afternoon, except for a couple of late lunch diners. I followed her in and hoisted myself up onto a barstool, as Elaine made the very long walk to the restrooms in the far back. I anticipated a long wait. “What can I get you?” The young woman behind the bar asked. “ Killians draught,” I answered after glancing at the tap handle with the red horse insignia. Afternoon television was on with Oprah, and I was the only one at the bar, on the stool closest to the opened front door where the outside light poured in and blended with this amber lit place. I could finish the hefty tumbler of Irish brew in the time Elaine spent in the restroom. And that I did. Several t.v. commercials later, and at the end of Oprah, Elaine finally emerged from the rear of the pub. “Hey, I want a beer!” Elaine proclaimed as she slid beside me at the bar. She was smiling with delight. So, we sat at the bar and drank beer, my second and her first. “I think I’ll have another one,” She decided. “No more beer for you until we get home!” I announced, considering I was a in charge of this little field trip. I was thinking of the timing and logistics of future bathroom breaks. Elaine giggled at my treating her like a kid. Next, we entered the Railway Market, flanked by its assortment of organic produce and a bank of shelves stocked with gluten-free products. The store’s spicy smell danced around as we made our way through the aisles. Elaine decided to look for vitamins, so we made a bee line to the supplement section. All along the way she was chatting about consciousness, and channeling her spirit guide. “ There’s a gap between states of consciousness, and when we meditate we slip into it.” “I fell into the gap!” I told her.”Look at the label in my shirt!” She stretched the back of my collar, and upon seeing a GAP tag sewn in there, she chuckled at my silly humor. The next subject popped into gear, as Elaine held out her hand. We stopped in the aisle. “My father had the most beautiful hands! But my mother’s fingers are not attractive. Do you see these three fingers? They’re my father’s fingers. The other two are my mother’s. I have both of their fingers.” “Oh, yeah. I can see the difference.” I nodded, and we moved on. “I only buy Solgar,” She announced as we perused the shelves lined with bottles brimming with health promoting capsules and pills. Regal gold Solgar labels on stout brown glass bottles topped with gold lids beckoned, making the rest look like bargain brands in their white plastic containers. Solgar was the crème de la crème of the industry, a well established company that could be trusted for purity and quality. Elaine bought a jar of B-complex vitamins at a premium price. I bought a box of Panda brand licorice. Our final destination was the Giant supermarket, to pick up a few things for dinner that night. Elaine went to use the bathroom there, and I would grab the needed items and meet her near the pharmacy. I gathered the things on my short list and waited, and watched people in line for their prescriptions. Twenty minutes had passed since we entered the store, so I decided to check the bathroom. Elaine was not there. I traversed the back section of the store several times, carefully looking up the rows. A half hour had passed since we parted in the store, and now I was feeling concerned. I had lost Elaine! After trolling the store one more time, I saw her coming around a corner carrying cheese. ‘Where were you?” She wanted to know, oblivious to my concern. “I was looking for you!” I exclaimed. Once we arrived home, I realized that I had just spent an entire afternoon with Elaine but we had been in different places, just as always. Linda Andrews Kendz