EASTER IN PEARBLOSSOM by Karen Robertson
Easter has always been a great time to get together with family, no matter how far you have to drive. In 1973, Barry and I loaded up the kids, Jason, Jodi, and dog named Luke into our old Buick Skylark and left Murrieta headed for Coalinga, California, to visit my parents.
We had a great visit, rode motorcycles, went to church, and ate lots of good food. Good-byes are always drawn out and difficult, and when we were ready to leave, Mom stepped up to the car.
“If you won’t take a bag of food, at least take the basket of eggs the kids hunted.”
Eager to get on the road, we accepted the basket of Easter eggs and started our return trip late Sunday afternoon. The traffic was stop-and-go on the main highways, so we decided to strike out across the less traveled two-lane country roads toward southern California.
Darkness overtook us as we cut across from the Grapevine and were cruising a stretch of no-man’s land, when I noticed something strange.
“Hey, honey. Did you see that? I just saw some steam, or smoke, or something come up from the front of the car.”
Barry ignored it until a strange grating noise got his attention. He pulled off the road and inspected under the hood. He shook his head in frustration.
“You’re right. Something is making an awful noise, and there isn’t anything I can do about it out here. I hope we can make it to the next town.”
We managed to rattle and smoke our way into the little town of Pearblossom, but no garage stayed open on Easter night. In fact, there wasn’t anything open. We had a broken-down car, two kids, a big dog, and a basket of Easter eggs.
“What’re we gonna do? I don’t have any money, do you?” I knew fishing around in my purse would be fruitless.
Barry dug in his pocket and came up with a grand total of $14.
We were both in debt when we got married, so we paid off our credit cards, cut them up, and threw them away. We went Dave Ramsey before anyone ever heard about Dave Ramsey and his Total Money Makeover.
We drove past the few darkened businesses hoping to find a place to stay. One lone neon light appeared ahead of us.
“There’s a motel,” I pointed as though he could miss the only light showing. “But it doesn’t look very nice.”
When I was a kid, I remember staying in sleazy motels traveling cross-country when we stopped late and had no alternatives and little money. I remember one in Texas where Mom told us to crawl straight into bed and not turn the lights on.
Barry pulled the car up to the office and let out a big sigh as he exited the vehicle. It didn’t look promising or welcoming, and the sign outside said “No Vacancy.”
From outside, it looked like the manager and my husband were having a heated conversation. As time passed, I became more and more anxious.
For a moment they disappeared from sight. I reached for the door handle and considered jumping out of the car to see what was going on. Barry emerged with a huge bundle in his arms and a troubled look on his face.
“What happened?” I inquired.
“At first the guy said he didn’t have a room with two beds. I told him we’d take anything.”
“Okay, was there something else?”
“No, he said there was a room with two beds, but it had already been rented earlier this evening, and the sheets needed to be changed. He didn’t want to be bothered.”
“Huh? Someone rented the room and then left?”
Barry dropped his eyes and looked embarrassed.
“Never mind about that. We got the room.”
“That’s great, honey. How much did it cost?”
He hesitated again. “He wanted $14, but I told him we’d change the sheets if he’d rent it to us for $12 and let the dog stay, too. I finally convinced him he was renting the room twice in one night, and I didn’t see anyone else standing in line. And of course, I told him about the broken-down car and the sleepy kids. He finally gave in.”
“I’m just so glad you managed to get us a place to stay. Let’s make the best of it.”
We entered the shabby room, changed the sheets, and were thankful for a roof over our heads. I tried to make light of our plight, but the kids weren’t buying it.
“But Mommy, I’m hungry, and we didn’t have any dinner,” Jodi whined. I gave her a hug without telling her my plan.
The kids crawled into bed, and I brought the basket of eggs to the center.
“Gather round. Easter isn’t over, and dinner is served,” I said.
There were smiles all around, and the atmosphere changed from despair to celebration. I doled out the colored boiled eggs so everyone, including Luke, got their share.
“That’s the main course,” I said as I cleaned up the shells.
It wasn’t great, but it took away the hunger pangs and cheered our hearts.
“And now for dessert.” There were plenty of chocolate and candy eggs to share.
When the basket was empty, we decided the whole situation wasn’t so bad after all. A fun adventure.
The next morning Barry took the Buick to a garage close by. He confessed to the mechanic he didn’t have any money, but he had a checkbook. The man refused to work on the car without a guarantee the check would be good.
Desperate, Barry called our bank in Temecula and had the manager, who was our friend, speak to the mechanic, vouch for us and guarantee the check would be good.
The mechanic took Barry in his own car to a junk yard to get a part to fix the car.
Meanwhile, I walked the kids to a little café where I bought a couple of rolls and a half-pint of milk for their breakfast with the two dollars we had left.
There wasn’t enough change to make a collect call to my school to tell them I wasn’t going to make it to work. I borrowed coins from the storekeeper to make a collect call to my principal. He accepted the charges, but he wasn’t a happy recipient.
We have fond memories of our Easter evening in Pearblossom, California. It motivated us to get a credit card and to always accept the Easter Eggs.
