We planned Friday to go see our younger son Jamie play baseball at Oakland City University, but the game was cancelled. Still, we decided to make the trip from Louisville and spend some time with our son. It was a beautiful day, a delightful drive, we had a wonderful dinner, met a few of his teammates, and then set off for home. I needed gas for the trip home, and stopped at a station on a small winding road, right near the interstate. It was a Sunoco station. We dont have many, if any, Sunoco stations near us in Louisville, so when I see one, it inevitably gives me pause. You see, when I was a child, my Dad would ONLY use Sunoco fuel. I dont really know why, but he was adamant about it. As the tank was filling, I looked at the logo on the side of the pump and it hasnt changed much from those many years ago. It started me to thinking. It seems people were a lot more loyal to a gasoline brand back then, than they are now. Companies used to spend significant money trying to persuade you their fuel was really better. Now, it seems the pitch is the enormous soft drinks, or flavored coffees, or made to order sandwiches in the store at a particular gasoline retailer... It wasnt just gas that seemed to trigger that brand loyalty. I remember my father would only drink ice water or Hi-C Orange, which came in these great big cans. Gum was always Juicy Fruit, lozenges were Sucrets, in these little metal tins, that, when empty,would then turn up all around the house, holding paper clips, or rubber bands. My mother too, would only use Red Gold tomatoes, or Maxwell House Coffee, or buy Entenmanns Crumb Cake, or Polly-O Ricotta.... In Louisville now, I dont see many of these brands regularly, and some not at all, but when I do they always remind me of Mom and Dad...and my childhood. I look around at this Sunoco station, and even out here in the country, they have a small store attached, with food, drink and other stuff, and I think back to the Sunoco that my Dad went to when I was a kid. On Merrick Road, right in our little town of Sesford, it was, as was the norm then, truly a GAS STATION. A few pumps, and then one or two lifts in the garage for repairs. Thats it. No lattes....no burritos...no store... My father would get a fill up (no self serve) and then say to Vinnie, put it on my bill, and the owner would smile, say no problem, and off we would go. At the end of the month, my father would pay the 14 or 17 dollars he owed for gas for that month. Dad would also take the car there for Vinnie to get it ready for trips we would soon embark on to see my brothers either in college, or afterward when they got married. Oil, fluids, tires, lubrication....the whole works for our treks to New Jersey, Pennsylania, or all the way to Maryland! The anticipation of these 3 or 4 hour trips, as if we were going to Europe, was very exciting for a little kid, and their memories bring a smile to my heart... As we drive hone, I think more about this, and suddenly the last name of the Vinnie who owned the Sunoco station pops in my head. Scinta. Vinnie Scinta. When I get in the door, I go right to the computer and do a search...and sadly, find an obituary for a Patti Scinta who, it turns out, was married to Vinnie. The notice is from 2012 and indicates they had lived in upstate New York. It also tells a sweet story of how the couple met in 1967, and then how they wed, after Patti waited patiently for Vinnie to come home. From VietNam. I never knew he was a vet. I wonder if that was one of the reasons my father was so loyal to him. I dont know. I would bet one of the reasons for my Dads loyalty is that Vinnies name ended in a vowel. I dont have a problem with that, one paisano trying to help another. Even that seems simpler, more innocent. My father wasnt trying to make some sociological statement, or push the envelope of political correctness. It was just a way to help another working man who came to this country on a similar experience. Nothing more. As I read the obit, I am struck by the details of the familys journey, one I knew nothing about, but one that sounded full and rich and loving. I reflected on my own short journey that day, and on seeing my parents grandson at his college. My spirit was abounding with reflections on our own rich, full, loving journey, one as colorful as the fall foliage that lined our path for much of this day. ------------------------ Intersections. One, the site of a gas station between an interstate and a small country road. The other, the crossing of long ago memories, with an internet search. Together, they made me reflect on lives fully led, and the memories they create...
Posted on: Sat, 18 Oct 2014 07:00:24 +0000
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