Yep, that’s me! I come from a long line of women who are tipped toward ‘external processing’. Especially my mama. Full of the gift of gab and gaffes uniquely her own, she was a complex lady with a penchant for chit-chat. With or without jet fuel, err…her ultra-dark roast black coffee.
Once when he was beyond exasperated with her non-stop commentary, my dad simply asked in a low, gravely growl: “Sue…Do you EVER have an unexpressed thought?”.
We were on a cross country road trip and dad was diligently trying to tune the old AM radio so he could catch the Cincinnati Reds game. Mom? She had other things on her mind. Questions about the destination, where we’d stop for the night, what sort of road food we’d indulge in, how many miles to the next pit stop/potty stop.
I think dad was okay for the first few hours, but I began to notice, from my backseat perch, that his jaw was tight – yet not as tight as his clenched fists on the steering wheel. His grip was so firm that his otherwise suntanned hands looked more mottled and pinky-white, due to, you know, cutting off his own circulation with his steering wheel vice grip.
Eventually mom slept and I saw the color return to dad’s hands – he even stuck his left arm out the window for a while, casual-like, to catch a breeze as we sped along. With mom slumbering, he found the sports radio station and turned the volume up. I saw him look back in the rear-view mirror, noticing that while mom and sister Lisa slept, I was still awake.
What followed was one of the best ‘car talks’ dad and I ever had. As a devoted fan to his favorite team, I knew he relived his own hey days as a ball player himself whenever he caught a game. Johnny Bench was a favorite and Pete Rose, too, and dad educated me about the “Big Red Machine” roster, so I knew every player. The baseball lesson lasted only an hour or so, but it felt like so much more. ❤❤❤
There are moments when I fall into chatter mode, like mom, and I recall dad’s road trip commentary about her motor mouth. Hmmm…applies to me, too. Given my self-awareness about being Very Verbal Vicki I’m reminded that I won’t explode if I fail to express everything I think, feel, wonder, lament, dislike, enjoy…you get the idea.
Given that the DH (no, not the designated hitter – the dear hubby) shares some traits with my long-gone papa, I suspect his ears relish a break every now and then. When it matters, DH is a great listener, but a running diatribe of drivel? It’s asking too much, and I know it.
From me to you…with a friendly, self-mocking ‘blah, blah, blah’…I’ll say goodbye for now.
Very Verbal Vicki 😉