The Sky’s the Limit: My Journey with Maryellen

I can’t pass up the chance of seeing Cedar Top like it was sixty years ago. Who’s ever had such a cool opportunity? So my curiosity wins, and I say I’d like to stay overnight. Mr. Larkin nods, and says Cedar Top looks like a fine place to spend the night. I pipe up and say that I know this town. My grandmother is from Cedar Top. Maryellen says that’s great. We can visit her. I shake my head, and say that we can’t. She moved recently.

Mr. Larkin finds a shady spot to park the trailer overnight, and everyone scatters. Mr. and Mrs. Larkin decide to go grocery shopping, and Beverly and Carolyn find a music store they want to visit. Maryellen and I go to find a drugstore where we can buy postcards for Grandmom, Grandpop, Tom, and Mikey in Georgia, and Joan and Jerry back in Daytona Beach.

Mr. Larkin unhooks two bicycles from the back end of the trailer and says we can ride. He wheels Carolyn’s bike over to me, and the other bike over to Maryellen. Maryellen’s bike is an old clunker with flat tires, rusty handlebars, a broken bell, and a battered basket. It doesn’t look speedy at all. Even so, Maryellen’s dad reminds her to take it easy. Maryellen sighs and says she will.

After Mr. Larkin leaves, I ask what’s wrong. Why did he tell her to take it easy? Maryellen explains that three years ago, she had polio. And it weakened her lungs. Dad doesn’t want her to get winded from riding the bike too fast. I look again at Maryellen’s bike, and I guess I look dubious, because she laughs and says that her bike is a clunker. And it’s too small for her. She’d like a new one. But her friend, Davy, says that the bike only looks slow until she starts to peddle it. Maryellen likes to go fast.

I tell her that my parents fuss, too. That’s what parents do. Maryellen nods. She never lets polio slow her down any more than she lets the old bike slow her down. And Maryellen is right. She zips along on her flat tire bike. Luckily, there’s not very many cars on the quiet streets of Cedar Top in 1955.

When we get to the downtown shopping area, Maryellen and I lean our bikes against the parking meter and go into a store called Five and Ten. I wish the store was still in Cedar Top today. It has gum and candy, toys, birds, magazines, and of course, postcards. Maryellen and I choose two cards. On the back of each, Maryellen writes, “We miss you!” and sketches funny cartoons of all of us stuffed in the station wagon. Maryellen writes the date on the cards, too, and when I see November, 1955, something tugs in my memory. What does that date mean to me? I wish I could remember.

As Maryellen and I put the cards in the mailbox, I see something bright and shiny on the ground. It’s a 1955 penny, brand new. I tell her that someone dropped it. Maryellen says there’s something wrong. The date looks funny, as if it was stamped twice. Oh well, it’s still money. She asks if I want to buy a gumball with it.

For a moment, I’m tempted. Finally, I tell her no. I’m not supposed to chew gum. Of course, I’m also not supposed to ride a bike without a helmet, or ride in the car without wearing a seatbelt. But no one wears helmets or seatbelts here, so I don’t really have a choice about those things. I add that my grandmother collects weird stuff. Maybe she’ll get a kick out of the messed-up penny.

I stick the penny in my pocket. If it makes the trip back to the twenty-first century with me, it’ll be proof that this visit with Maryellen isn’t all a dream. We walk a while, until I find the street that my grandmother used to live on before she moved. I’m comforted to see that her old house is there. I tell Maryellen that’s the house Gran used to live in.

Maryellen asks where my grandmother lives now, and I tell her that Gran lives with us. Maryellen exclaims that I’m very lucky. I hesitate and say maybe. Except it means that I have to share a room with my sister, and neither of us like that. Maryellen asks if I’m happy that Gran lives with me, and I shrug.

Maryellen looks puzzled, so I explain that I don’t really know her very well. She isn’t cozy like Maryellen’s grandmother. Until she retired, she was always traveling all over the globe, so we hardly ever saw her. Mom says Gran was famous at her job, but I’ve never talked to her about it. Even now that she lives in the house, she mostly stays in her room, organizing all the stuff she’s collected. Just a bunch of dusty, old, broken things. She invited me and my sister to come look at her collection once, but we didn’t do it.

Maryellen asks why, and I say that it just seemed like she was more interested in the old stuff than us. Maryellen raises her eyebrows. If her stuff is that interesting, then Maryellen would be dying to see it. I grin. Maryellen has a point. When I go home, I’ll ask Gran about her stuff, instead of resenting it. Maryellen and I are about to peddle away from Gran’s old house when the front door bursts open with a boom and a boy flies out. A girl about our age comes bounding out the door after the boy, telling us to stop him. He took it!