Cool Ranch

At times I find myself dwelling on my earlier years. Not that my childhood was amazing or even remarkable in many ways. I grew up the firstborn of two young missionaries. They were newly married and just setting out on their own away from family and friends. They had left the comforts of home to seek God’s will for them in ministry to children through backyard bible clubs and other various gospel sharing venues in the great land of Grand Rapids, Michigan. They were in love and living life to its full purpose. At times I feel like I interrupted their lives when I came on the scene almost immediately.

Some people call us surprises or accidents, but the quickness of my birth is only a testament to my parents love for each other and to their calling of influencing the next generation. The winter of ’81 was a harsh one and my parents, poor in every material sense, made it through that blizzard clinging to one another for warmth and comfort. And that is how babies should be made.

Moving forward a touch, I have described memories to my mother confirming some are from as early as two years of age. I remember the long steep driveway of the blue rental home my folks were in. I recall the neighbor’s house across the street having a long, covered porch across the front of it. From there the neighbor lady would yell at me for riding down the driveway too fast on my toddler scooter with the plastic tassels on the handlebar. I distinctly remember thinking to myself, “I’m not dumb lady. I know if there are cars coming or not. I’m not going to just ride out into the street without looking…”

I can remember a lot from my childhood. A lot of disappointment not getting to buy things because we were poor, rationalizing to myself that it wasn’t a big deal, and then carrying on doing whatever. I remember a lot of happy things too. Playing, coloring, getting dirty digging in the backyard. Walking down the broken-up sidewalk to get to the broken-down park at the end of the busted-down block. I recall wallpaper patterns and furniture textures. Ask me sometime about the last time I pooped my pants on purpose, and I can remember all the details of the doorway I was standing in, the color of the hot air balloon that was flying by, and all the reasoning I was doing in my head about weighing out the pros and cons of my next move.

I am now a grown man, still rationalizing and debating myself internally about almost everything. I have a son of my own now and we are making it day by day. With a young kid in my house, I have been regularly reminded of another memory. Many people know one of the most nostalgia inspiring senses is taste. For me, one odd but distinctly specific taste takes me back to a moment I felt amazing as a child. It reminds me that I was loved and that I am thought of. It reminds me, as a father, to be kind and fun during moments of frustration and uncertainty. The taste I am referring to, of course, is Cool Ranch Doritos.

My father needed to travel to go pick up a car. This was the ‘80’s and long before the days of online auto sales and home delivery services with car vending machines. While I do not understand all the details setting up the journey, but it is the journey I remember. He had to take me. I don’t think he would have paid for an extra ticket if he didn’t need to. But he made it clear from the beginning, we were going to do this thing together. My first big trip alone with my dad on a Greyhound bus. There were several things I could have focused on during the trip. I could have focused on the smells of the bus, or the faces of all the strangers. I could have dwelled on the not child-friendly seats or lack of entertainment services available. What I do keep in my mind is what I feel like was the most important part; me and my dad.

He was nervous. I’m sure now, having taken several trips with my young son, he was a total ball of stress about the whole thing. How was he going to keep me busy in my seat? What about the toilet situation? What if I threw a fit in this tiny, shiny bus in front of all these weirdos? What about all these weirdos!? What if something crazy happens and he must protect me? What happens when we get to the destination? What if the car is not what was promised? Were we making this trip and taking all these risks for nothing? At no time during our adventure, did he put any of that on me. I think it would have been ok with me if he did. He could have told me about his feelings, and I like to think I would have understood. He could have explained to me his expectations and I would have worked hard to not let him down. He didn’t do that. He told me the plan and how it was important for me to listen to him and be polite. He was always telling me to be polite. He had me thoughtfully pick some things to take on the bus to keep me entertained. A book, some coloring materials, and that was about it.

It is funny what things you can focus on in the middle of something exciting like that. I do not remember much of getting to the bus station or getting on the bus itself, but I do remember being thrilled when the engine started, and we began to move. I remember sitting by my dad and feeling confident in him. He would get us there and we were going to be fine. I read a little and watched out the window, I am sure bored to tears, but all I can think about is the warm sun in the window and feeling proud of being chosen for this task. I felt serious and grown up in that moment. I would look around the bus occasionally at the other travelers reading their books and sleeping. I was the only kid on the bus that day, but I felt like just another one of the adults. Places to be and things to do and all that, you know…

We made a stop, I don’t remember how long into the trip, for a bathroom break and snack stop at a gas station type place. I remember standing up and stretching like everyone else. We shuffled our way down the steps and off the bus into the fullness of the un-conditioned outdoor air. We moved to the restroom and washed up. I was looking forward to this next part because I knew something great was about to happen. Knowing we had limited time before the bus resumed its trek, we moved to the snack area. I remember thinking about getting a soda or candy bar, but something caught my eye. It was probably because I saw it advertised on TV or perhaps the convenient store had such a great display, but I suddenly had my heart set on Cool Ranch Doritos. I asked my dad if we could get them, thinking I already knew the answer would be “no” and already scanning the aisle for something more reasonable and grown up. He asked me if I was sure that’s what I wanted to get. I paused. This is a time of adventure and trying new things. “Yes!” I said not truly understanding that what was about to happen would permanently sear itself into my brain for the rest of my life.

We got back on the bus, and I opened my special snack bag of chips. I remember being dazzled by the colors on the bag and seeing the sprinkled seasoning coating each chip and just knowing this was going to be awesome. I shoved one into my mouth and my taste buds swelled as they helped my brain compose what “cool ranch” flavor even was. So good. Cool ranch is so good. And cool! I felt so grown up and cool with my cool ranch Doritos on the bus with my dad. I felt on top of the world. I don’t know if I have ever felt so proud up until that very moment. I offered one to my dad and we snacked together as equals that afternoon bouncing down the road for who knows how long.

We got to our destination and my dad test drove the car. I could tell he was unsure of the situation but excited at the prospect of acquiring a new car for us. I jumped into the front seat, and we headed back home. I don’t remember much of the rest of that trip, getting home, or even much about the car itself. What I do remember is my dad taking the time to be with me. Not just with me on a trip but present in the moment. A moment for him that would have been stressful and anxious. But he was there with me, for me. We didn’t have money for crazy flavored snacks, but he made sure I had some of the things I wanted and all the things I needed. He took care of me in a way that made me who I am today. I am not the world’s best traveler, but I am almost always open to trying new things and tasting new flavors.

As a dad myself now, I am constantly on the lookout for these moments. When I am too caught up in the situation at hand or too focused on a task, I remind myself to take a minute to reach back and see what my boy is up to. I am not very much better off than my father ever was, and my son does not get everything he asks for that is for sure. But there are always times when it is ok to make the exception to the rule and get a small treat to share. It is ok for my son to try new things. He can go on adventures. He will be just fine as he ventures out into the world because I have his back. It is all I can hope for that he knows I am for him in the big things and in the small quiet moments in between.

Every time I eat Doritos I think of that time, among thousands of others, when my dad made the smallest effort, and it made all the difference. When I am out in the world, pretending still like I’m a grown up, and I get a little nervous, I still sometimes imagine my dad in the seat next to me, holding my hand and encouraging me to be confident in the man God created me to be, his son.