Digging through old stuff to put in a garage sale or just throw away—that’s what you do to stuff you spend the biggest part of your life collecting—I discovered old, yellowed, newspaper columns I’d written in the 80s for The Wewoka Times. The column, “From Norma’s Desk,” caught my attention because in one dipping, I’d shared an unforgettable travel experience that could have easily been fodder for an old “I Love Lucy” show. I hope you enjoy this...

Because I hadn’t seen my sister, Oneita, for a long time, I shared with my husband, James, my desire to visit her in Pennsylvania. It was like desiring fare to go to the moon, but I shared it with him anyway. When he said the kids and I could fly there IF we could raise the money, he didn’t realize the seed he planted in our minds.

For months Scarlette and Cassandra, 7 and 9, and Clay, age 1, worked like busy bees raising money to fly away. After we sold the nice patio furniture I’d earned selling Tupperware, it gave us hope. Next came the barrage of garage sales. James became wary of the funds building up and began to keep a closer eye on his fishing gear, clothing, tools, and whatever might bring a few dollars. I’m not sure the girls would have worked so hard with me if they’d realized I was still capable of getting lost in the Seminole area when selling Tupperware. But, this time I wouldn’t be driving.

Sooner than James would have believed, we raised all the money we needed, and after packing... he was driving us to the airport.

This was our first time to fly and it went smoothly. We spent 2 weeks in the mountainous Pennsylvania country. We enjoyed driving next to horse and buggies in the Amish country, was amazed at the chocolate factory in Hershey, and walked deep in the cool woods in the foothills of the Smokey Mountains. My 3 kids and Oneita’s little ones, Nora and Larry Ray, kept us busy answering questions, looking for restrooms, and places to eat. No matter where we went, we saw no litter on the streets or countryside. Large farms were well taken care of, and open markets with farm produce overflowing were in all the towns.

We viewed old churches with cemeteries in the back yards. Old homes and buildings were kept restored beautifully, giving a feel of living there hundreds of years ago. Once, we found a quaint little restaurant and ate big hoagie sandwiches filled with veggies and meats.

Two weeks ended and we began to pack to go back home. I was so proud of the 6-foot curtain rod I had purchased. It barely fit in Oneita’s car as we loaded up. Of course, at that time, I hadn’t really thought about its size for the plane.

We allowed ourselves an hour in Philly, seeing the Liberty Bell and other points of interest. Soon we headed toward the airport. We drove about a half mile from the city, and somehow we found ourselves winding back in the heavy traffic of middle downtown. We started out again, determined to keep going, this time to approach the airport that we could see slightly from a distance. Again, we did the same thing. It was as if the town refused to let us go.

Now, if it were my sister or me driving, it would be emphasized, I’m sure, that we didn’t know how to drive. But since it was my brother-in-law, a strange, inexplicable phenomena had occurred. (Isn’t it funny how different driving mistakes are considered between men and women?)

The circling caused us to become extremely anxious of missing our flight. Somehow, our next attempt was successful, bringing us into a 6-lane traffic heavy traffic area, allowing us a closer view of the airport. I breathed a sigh of relief. Now, we might make it. Then it happened! All of a sudden, the car died and there was no way to exit the roadway. Cars kept zipping past us; those directly behind us pulled up, blew their horns, rolled down their windows spouting off, and zoomed around us. The traffic was so heavy and fast, we felt like terrapins crossing a busy freeway at noon.

We began to pray diligently and in a few minutes, a station wagon suddenly pulled up close to us. A very kind lady asked us if she could help. When she heard we were heading the same way, she said to quickly load our luggage into her car. As I transferred our things, I hadn’t forgotten my sister’s situation. She hurried us on, saying everything was going to be all right. About that time, a car sped by, yelling obscenities at the lady for stopping to help us!

We jumped into the stranger’s car, realizing we were already late. She and her son seemed calm and unconcerned, refusing my attempt to pay them. (To this day, no one can convince me that she was not a ministering angel. Her calm attitude in the middle of all that ruckus proved it for me.)

She hurried on to the airport. At the curb, we got out as a porter took our luggage and directed us to our gate of departure where it seemed we walked for miles.

Imagine my appearance: Walking as fast as I could, toting a wiggly baby on my right hip and carrying his big baby bag. Then on my left side, I had a large carry-on bag, my big purse, and a long boxed 6-foot curtain rod with two little girls dodging it!

As we reached the gate, people lined up. I looked a mess as the man at the desk looked at me and announced that the plane was ready—It had been delayed because of mechanical failure (A Godwink)! He said women and children board first. A stewardess came and directed us in front of the line. She took my box on in to store it since it wouldn’t fit in the passengers’ seating area. As we entered and found our seats, I thought of Oneita. I prayed they would get help to get home. (They miraculously did.)

Not long, our dinner was served. I was told earlier I could call the airport ahead of time and tell them our food choices, which was vegetarian, so when I saw chicken Kiev in our plates, I almost fainted. All I could think of was that we’d boarded the wrong plane! Quickly I flagged the stewardess and told her my concern. She assured me we were on the right plane and apologized for the mix-up. When I tried the chicken, though, it tasted heavenly. The kids even liked it, too.

We had to change planes in Memphis. After everyone stood to exit, we heard a commotion towards the front of the plane...something about the storage compartment. As I looked down the line, I saw a stewardess tugging on “something” that had lodged. It was a very long box! Oh, dear. Finally, it came loose, and she who was practically tugging with all fours, gained her composure, stood the box up, and smiled as passengers filed past her. It was not easy to pick up that box (my curtain rod) and exit without feeling that it was about 12 feet long. I tried to appear nonchalant— but failed.

It wasn’t long until we had settled in the next plane and the Lord blessed us with a big compartment for my “can’t do without it” curtain rod! And soon, we spotted the Oklahoma City airport’s lighted runways. My husband was a sight for sore eyes, standing at the gate. At home, he had a dozen roses for me, in which he didn’t know how much I deserved!