The Hernias

About 12 years ago, my mother and I took a roadtrip from her home in Tampa, FL all the way up the east coast to Maine. This had been a dream of mine for several years and having just gone through a difficult breakup - my mom suggested the trip to help my mood! We had numerous relatives up and down the east coast and took advantage of our time on the road to meet up with many of them. I will tell you about "going to the top of the bridge and taking a right" in another blog. Today's story is about the Hernias - Bob and Jenny. Let me explain!

My grandfather got wind of my mother and my roadtrip plans and insisted we attempt to find his old buddies and former neighbors from York Beach, Maine, Bob and Jenny Hern. Being my grandfather had not seen these people in over 50 years and not knowing the last time he actually spoke with them, we asked how we might go about finding Bob and Jenny Hern. He said, "Oh everybody knows Bob and Jenny. Just pull over at any business and ask them where to find The Herns. They'll know!"

This assignment offered my mother and I many, many laughs along the way. At some point, I changed their name from Hern to Hernia (intentionally) and then we laughed about me accidentally calling them The Hernias when, and if, we actually found them.

I am not sure on which day of the trip we arrived in York Beach, Maine. It was the most quaint town and held special importance to me because it was the town my grandparents lived in when my mother was born. My mom and I drove around to simply get a feel of the community. There were two main roads - one residential, one "commercial." Commercial meaning the general store (a REAL general store), the fire station, police department, and cemetery. Across from the cemetery, there was a historical society. My mom and I both decided this was probably going to be the best place for us to check on Bob and Jenny Hernia.

My mother gets embarrassed easily and does not like to make a potential fool of herself. I, on the other hand, really don't give a shit. In fact, I rather relish in the concept of being different so I gladly stepped up to the task.

We walked into the historical society building and found that for a small fee, we could take a tour of the old house in which the historical society was located. Being suckers for experiencing different time periods, we paid the fee and toured the house. It was very pleasurable and nicely presented. The end of the tour spit us back out into the lobby of the historical society. I paused for a second and then approached the lovely volunteers at the counter to inquire about The Hernias.

I explained the story of my grandfather's request and then asked if either of them knew of Bob and Jenny Hernia or anyone in the Hernia family. Both shook their heads no. One of the ladies offered to look in the phone book but did not find anything. We all shared a good laugh about this whole thing and then my mother and I left.

I have an unusual appreciation for old cemeteries and wanted to go check the one out across the street. Some of the graves dated back to the 1700s. Several grave sites were entirely covered with concrete. It was explained to us that this was done to the gravesites of persons suspected of being witches. They covered the site with concrete in an attempt to keep the evil spirits in the grave.

When we finished touring the cemetery, we got back in the car and decided to take another tour of the town in hopes of finding the name Hernia on a mailbox or somewhere. We turned onto the residential street and drove down the most beautiful line of large lots and exquisitely renovated houses. As we passed each house, we oohed and aahed about the striking scenery of each. About a half mile down the road on the right hand side, we simultaneously spotted this old, faded black 2 story building close to the road and totally out of sync with the rest of the road. As we got closer to the building, we were able to make out more detail and I noticed a sign hanging out front about level with the bottom of the 2nd floor. It said Jenny's Junk Shop. I went totally numb for a second and then got goosebumps all over my body. I looked at my mother and realized that she was having a similar reaction to mine. I pulled over a little bit past the house and asked my mother if she could believe what we were seeing.

My grandfather, for as long as I could remember, had been a junk collector. His garage was always used but never to house his car. He had tools so rusted they obviously hadn't been used in decades, old stereos and phonographs, signs of assorted materials and content, lawn mowers, bike parts, empty bottles, Styrofoam manikin heads, etc. Just an odd assortment of junk. He even had an empty aquarium holding used lottery tickets. He found value in everything. When we spotted Jenny's Junk Shop in the old, dusty building standing out in this otherwise pristine community, we knew we had found something special.

My mom started coming unglued trying to figure out how we were going to find out if this was Jenny Hernia's Junk Shop. I told her to let me handle it and for her to just follow along. We walked into the store and quickly recognized the decorating style the same as that of my grandfather. I was just about positive now that we had found Jenny H or at least some version of the Hernia family. We took a few more steps into the store and out from the far left hand corner I heard a feeble little female voice say, "hello." I turned my head in her direction and spotted the sweetest little old lady curled up in the back corner - no less than 125 years old. My heart started jumping all over the place as I knew I had just found Jenny Hernia. I smiled, said, "hello" back at her, and then proceeded to non chalantly walk around the store looking at her fabulous junk.

My mother had gone in an opposite direction and when we finally met up, she asked me what I was going to do next. I told her to just keep holding on - I had a plan. When we finished admiring her collection, I headed towards the back left hand corner. I got close enough for Jenny to hear me clearly but far enough away so she would not feel that her space was being invaded. I started by asking her if she lived "around here." She smiled and gladly said yes. Then I asked her if she had lived around her for a while and she replied with, "her whole life." She did not seem threatened with my questions and was willingly offering information so I figured it was time to share my story with her and see if, in fact, we had actually found Jenny Hernia. I introduced my mother and myself to her and told her our story. When I got to the part about my grandfather asking us to look for Bob and Jenny Hernia (I said Hern - not Hernia), she jumped in and said, "Jenny, that's me! I'm Jenny Hern!" While at some level I already knew this was probably Jenny Hernia, my body still went into a form of shock when it was finally confirmed. I felt like I had taken a trip to mars and had run into a familiar there.

She had many questions about my mother's family and most of them, my mom had to answer. She told us exactly where my grandparents used to live so that we could drive by on our way out of town and pay homage. She reminded us that my grandmother made a wedding gown for her daughter and how her son taught my aunt to drive. She informed us that Bob had passed on a few years before and we shared that my grandmother had also passed on about the same time. After about 30 minutes of talking, her son Bob - the one who taught my aunt to dive, arrived on the scene and we got to talk with him as well. We probably spent an hour talking and then traveled on.

For as long as I live and regardless of what other experiences I may have, I will ALWAYS cherish my encounter with The Hernias.

Thanks Papa for planting the seed of a great adventure!