Guidance System

"That was fun," my brother Bill said as we pulled out of the parking lot and started the hour trip home. We had been visiting my aunt who was recovering from back surgery. "It was nice to see Harriett, and Larry was as funny as ever."

"It was great that Courtney called while we were there, too," I agreed. "I think Mom would have been really happy that we went."

"Well," he shrugged, "I think she would have expected it."

"Yes," I nodded, "but she was usually pretty good about letting us know that she was happy we had met her expectations."

We rode in silence for a few minutes, listening to the top 8 songs from this week in 1979 and scanning the landscape for familiar landmarks. Alternate route available, flashed the screen of my GPS. Do you want to save 5 minutes?

I punched YES and made a quick right. We rolled across a bridge over the new cross county expressway and past a sign for the metro. 

"That was the Rockville Metro," my brother commented as we stopped at a light.

"Oh, are we in downtown Rockville?" I asked looking around. "Isn't that the church where F Scott Fitzgerald is buried?" I hadn't been in this part of Maryland since my mom had moved from here to Gaithersburg in 1988. "Hey Siri!" I called, interrupting Michael Jackson singing Don't Stop Til You Get Enough. "Where is F Scott Fitzgerald buried?"

"St. Mary's Cemetery in Rockville, Maryland," she intoned.

"Right there." Bill pointed to our right. 

I looked at the directions. We were on Viers Mill Rd about to cross over Rockville Pike. The next turn would be Maryland Avenue.

"I was listening to This American Life a few weeks ago," I told Bill. "The theme was something about getting places with guidance or expert assistance, and the opening anecdote was about a woman who was driving her parents to the hospital. Her mother had been battling cancer and the doctor had recommended she be admitted. Even though none of them thought it was a big deal, she ended up dying in the hospital a week later."

The light changed and we drove on. "Anyway," I continued, "the daughter put the hospital address in her GPS to find the best route from their home in Long Island, and even though she had driven there hundreds of times, it took them there in a way she had never driven before, which turned out to be right through the neighborhood her parents had grown up, dated, and gotten married in. They both reminisced about their wonderful life all the way to the hospital."

I looked at my brother. "I think this route is going to take us right by Mom's old place."

He tapped his phone. "Was it called Newmark Commons?" he asked.

"Maybe?" I shrugged. "That sounds familiar."

"Then it's right here on the left," he pointed.

We both looked at the blocky wooden sculpture marking the wooded entrance way. "That's definitely it," we agreed.

"I guess Mom really was happy that we went to see Aunt Harriett," I said.