Driving Away

Separation from my son during the Covid-19 pandemic

One year ago, on a Saturday, I picked up my son George from the residential treatment center where he is living, and brought him home for the day. We drove through a Starbucks and got a tall Americano for me and a large ice water and two warm chocolate chip cookies for him. We listened to his favorite pop station for the 45 minute ride back to our house. A commercial came on and when I didn’t change stations fast enough, George tapped me on the shoulder. I pushed the 96.5FM button; Tones and I Dance Monkey came on. I looked in the rearview mirror and smiled, “How’s that, G?”

He rocked his body to the music. We both loved that song:

They say oh my god I see the way you shine
Take your hand, my dear, and place them both in mine

We reached the house and George transitioned inside easily. This wasn’t always the case — sometimes my 5'11 son fell asleep on that ride and it was almost impossible to wake him and get him out of the car. But on this Saturday, he strolled in and hugged Daddy, smiled at sister, took his favorite spot on the couch. I cued up Fantasia on our TV. Since he was three, George has been obsessed with it, sometimes watching it several times a day. It’s a combination of different elements that he loves — music, bright colors, animals, Mickey Mouse; a catharsis of emotion and philosophy wrapped in an animated film brought to life in 1940 (the year my Mom was born).

There are things that I’ve come to understand about how my son’s brain works and things that may always be a mystery to me. I sit on the couch with him — he smiles while conductor Leopold Stowkowski takes the stage. Familiar anticipation.

For all the movies that might be George’s obsession, I’m grateful that it’s this one. The music score has flowed naturally into my subconscious; I don’t tire of it.

I still remember the night when I first saw Fantastia. It came to the old movie theater on Allegheny Street in Hollidaysburg, the small central Pennsylvania town where I grew up for a one-night engagement. From time to time, old movies would come there, seemingly randomly. I was probably 14 and sat in the dark theater with my Mom and brother Jon. Mesmerized and transported, our hands dipped into the…