The "Barr Good-bye"

For every visit there is a time to go home...but not too soon.

My mother was a woman who loved entertaining, whether it was hosting bridge, or a family birthday, or a visit from relatives. She loved making it an occasion and any excuse was worthy of a gathering. Perhaps that it why it never occurred to me that there was anything odd about hosting an annual birthday party for the phonograph...probably in the genes. But in looking back it seems that it was family get-togethers that had the most meaning for her, and when it was time to go home there was always a long conversation at the doorway, and a long good-bye. Even after coats were on, another 30 minutes could pass before everyone had crossed the threshold. It was this protracted exit that became a trademark of our house, and at some point was christened the "Barr Good-bye."

The source of the "Barr Good-bye" probably has many paths. When my mother was growing up on the family farm in central Nebraska, the closest neighbor was nearly one mile away. My Aunt Fay and Uncle Andus's farm was even further into the hills. I can remember in the 1950's and even into the 1960's, several Christmas Day attempts by our family to reach their farm were unsuccessful. The rolling hills and drifts of snow made roads impassable. My mom used those occasions to recall how many winters she could remember when friends and relatives were snowed in for days, with the telephone their only link. And when telephone lines went down in winter storms, the isolation became complete. She often thought about how lonely my aunt, who was social and liked a good game of canasta, must have been during those long winter months.

My mother told me many stories about my grandmother who loved visitors and always had something extra on the stove. Out on their Nebraska farm, if the traveling salesman was to make his monthly trip to their farm, it seems he always arrived before noon, just in time to be invited to join them for their noon-time dinner. Most guests were great fun for my mom, and the anticipation was almost as good as the visit. But there was one visitor who probably didn't get the long ("Barr") send-off. It was the dreaded veterinarian. Mom knew that for whatever reason he had come, the vet would be joining them at mealtime, probably seated next to her, and he always smelled of cows and medicine. They were meals she never enjoyed.