EXPERIENCE ARIZONA

Staying Clean Behind the Ears Requires Paying Attention to ROADSIDE WARNINGS and Mom's Reminders

I'VE DRIVEN AROUND A GOOD PORTION of Arizonafrom Quartzsite to Bisbee, Lake Havasu City to Holbrook, from Tucson to Page. However, it was only during this most recent motor trip that I really began to notice the road signs. Some are good; some are bad. For instance, the sign at the rest area off-ramp that reads "Next Rest Area 18 Miles." That's a good sign. It tells us whether to stop at this particular rest area or drive on an additional 18 miles to the next one. It helps us to make a decision. However, the sign at the next rest area reads "Rest Area Closed. Next Rest Area 46 miles." That's a bad sign. Most road signs, though, are a series of admonitions. "Slower vehicles use right lane." "Watch for falling rocks." "Watch downhill speed." "Avoid overheating. Turn off air-conditioner next 10 miles." It's like driving with your mother by the side of the road shouting cautions to you every few miles.

My mom was a veritable thesaurus of warnings. "Don't walk barefoot around the house." "Don't sit in that draft; you'll catch your death of cold." "Don't answer your mother back." "You can't leave the house dressed like that." And many others. Some were intelligible and logical; others confounded me. Once when Mom took me on a shopping trip, I misbehaved. In frustration, she shouted at me, "The next time I take you out, I'm leaving you home!" I behaved from that point on. I was so busy trying to figure out what she was talking about that I didn't have time for mischief.

Another one that baffled me was when I would ask for a nickel to buy some candy. Mom would say, "If I had a nickel, I'd sit up all night and watch it." I didn't know whether she meant she'd be so thrilled to have it that she'd be content to just sit and stare at her treasure, or did it mean it would be so precious that she'd have to give up sleep in order to guard it through the night? I didn't know. What I did know was that it meant I wasn't getting the nickel.

The one that really confused me was Mom's directive whenever it was time for my bath. She'd say, "Wash behind your ears." Dad was a bit more whimsical. When I was a kid, his admonition before my bath was always, "Don't get your feet wet." Dad was kidding; Mom was serious. "Wash behind your ears."

I could never quite fathom Mom's obsession. I was only a little kid, but I had a body of some content. It went from the top of my head to the bottom of my feet. There were many features on this body. Mom, though, only seemed to care about the area behind my ears. She never said to me, "Be sure to wash your elbows." Not once did she caution me, "Make sure your ankles are clean." My nose, my hips, my navel - she didn't care about them. It was always, "Wash behind your ears."

I grew up trying to figure out what was going on behind my ears to cause such a mess. I couldn't see any reason for Mom's concern. Even looking in the mirror was no good. I'd be looking at my ears and couldn't see behind them. But it must have been terrible.

Mom's obsession intrigued me. I never did anything with that part of my body. I picked things up with my hands. I touched things about which Mom would say, "You don't know where that's been." So, I could understand cleansing my hands thoroughly. And I walked through dirt, dust and mud with my feet. Washing them well was obligatory. But with the area behind my ears, I did nothing. Yet Mom always insisted, "Wash behind your ears."

This continual instruction from Mom caused some problems between my sibling and me. I did absolutely nothing to get the back of my ears cruddy. So I concluded that my brother was doing something. I didn't know what, and I never caught him at it, but it must have been him. Maybe he waited until I was asleep and then slapped some kind of mess back there. Anyway, to this day I always scrub the back of my ears vigorously with every shower or bath. Also, I'm still a bit wary of letting my brother stand behind me for too long. He's a nice guy today, but he's still the prime suspect in the behind-the-ears caper.

And as I drive around the fascinating Arizona roadways, I wouldn't be surprised to see some signs that read "No passing zone," "Watch out for animals," and "Wash behind your ears." All Gene Perret's newest book, Someday I Want to Go to All the Places My Luggage Has Been ($7.95 plus shipping and handling), captures the comical mishaps of even the bestlaid travel plans. To order, call toll-free (800) 543-5432. In Phoenix or from outside the United States, call (602) 712-2000.