5 Days.  2000 Miles.Monday, July 2. 8 hours later, I’m up, eat one of my prepackaged meals for breakfast.  My friend, Jeff, with whom I’m staying, tells me about my local gym choices.  I try one I haven’t been to before – Joe’s Gym.  It isn’t very big, there’s oldies playing from the ceiling.  Not “oldies” as in music from the 70’s or even the 60’s. We’re talking 1950-retro.  The equipment looks to be the same vintage as the tunes.  I despair being able to find machines that will allow the workout I’m planning for this morning.  Joe, as it turns out, went to the same high school I did, only he graduated the same year I started kindergarten – 1964.  I wonder if he got stuck in time somehow.  He’s very muscular, looks quite fit for his age.  On the back of his t-shirt is the motto: “we don’t need no stinking drugs.”  Little inspirational quotations are posted all around the walls of this gym.  It’s fairly empty, except for three older women (they all appear to be in their 60’s).The longer I work out at this little hole-in-the-wall gym, the more impressed I am with the training that apparently happens here.  Upstairs in the foyer outside the locker room are photos of local prize-winning power-lifters, the word “National” appearing in many of the titles.  Conversation with some of the regulars reveals that even the grandmas here know what correct form is.  I decide that my initial reaction to the old equipment was a bit harsh.  After all, the muscles don’t care WHAT you use to train them, they just respond to the work.After a shower and another baggie meal in the car (I never leave the house without two or three in an insulated bag) I begin the hunt for a minivan rental.  This gym is only a half-mile from the airport; there are several rental agencies nearby.  No one has a minivan, and the one that does is charging what I think is a bit exorbitant.  Later I find out why- because the agency is on the airport they have to pay higher fees.  Across town (not a big deal, this is not a major metropolis, it’s only 20 minutes away) is a Toyota dealer.  The rental doesn’t take long.  In just a few minutes I’m driving back to Jeff’s in a new Sienna.  I know my family, so I spend some time in the vehicle (parked in the driveway) reading the quick reference guide so I know where all the knobs, buckles, lights, etc. are located.A glance at the clock tells me that Uncle Harley’s flight is due in 20 minutes.  I frantically gather up what I’m going to need overnight and my good clothes, pack them in the van and go.Mom’s cognitive faculties work a little more slowly than they did before she fell two summers ago.  Word retrieval is less spontaneous, details seem to fall out of her head.  Just enough different to be noticeable.  When she told me the time to go pick up Uncle I asked her if she had a flight number.“No.”  “Do you remember the airline?”“Something that begins with ‘A.’”Oh dear.  This airport has the word “International” in its name, but fortunately for me, I had forgotten that it only has three gates.  As noted before, my hometown is not a huge metropolis.  I walk the terminal end-to-end twice (this takes about a minute), pause, turn around, and there he is.He’s not hard to recognize.  About 5’4”, thin, white beard down to his navel, hooked nose, bright brown eyes that peer intelligently from under his hat, a grin only half hidden by whiskers.  He’s been traveling for the last 12 hours, no direct flight available on short notice from Utah.  He asks if we can stop for a burger somewhere – we do Arby’s.  I have another baggie meal with him to be social.  By 5:30 we’re on my way to the folks, an hour drive.It doesn’t take long to pack them up, the debate over who sits where is resolved when I tell them where to go.  Mom sits in front, Dad and Janie in the second row (the dealer has removed the middle seat to make access to the back row easier), Uncle at the back, because he’s the only one who can get there. Dad is palsied enough to need help with the belt buckle, Janie can’t see around her waist to find the clip.  Mom chooses not to bring her folding wheelchair; something is not adjusted right and it doesn’t steer correctly.  I’m not mechanical enough to fix it.  I tell Janie she is in charge of phone calls and getting directions.  I know how to get to the funeral home, but since we will be arriving around 11:00 pm we will need to go directly to Aunt Nellie’s house.  I don’t have that address, haven’t been able to contact any of the cousins for that info.  I am relying on Janie to get the goods.  She beams.The drive is comfortable, physically and emotionally.  Several times along the way I am grateful for the space this vehicle affords my creaky relatives.  As in the classroom, a little structure goes a long way toward better interpersonal interactions.  Dad and Janie do not engage in their traditional sniping.  Not much, anyway.  Janie is happily occupied the entire trip updating cousins on our whereabouts and finding out where we need to go next.  Because her mental health community has regional meetings which she regularly attends she is familiar with this particular set of highways.  The fact that she knows where the rest stops are is VERY helpful to the other passengers.Mom reminisces about Nellie.  The two of them were the youngest of six children.  “It didn’t take her long to get to be my height.  People used to ask our mother if we were twins.”  Mom feels a little embarrassed – apparently this did not sit well with her as a child and the two of them used to tangle frequently.It was different when they were teenagers.  When they were 15 and 13 their mother developed breast cancer.  She died two years later, in 1944.  At that time my Mother was the oldest of the six kids still on the farm and had been the primary caregiver.  She remembers feeling maternal towards Nellie.  “I used to do her hair before school.”  Although she doesn’t articulate it, I get the feeling that from this point on Mom feels somewhat responsible for how Nellie’s life unfolded.At last we arrive.  Cousin John shows us where every one is bunking – I get everyone unpacked and delivered.  It has been a long day.-to be continued -