Last week, I traveled California like I was in some girl punk band trying to get famous. I was on planes, trains, and buses. And at each stop, there was a branch of the family waiting for me.
The first leg was Seattle to Sacramento. There I waited patiently for my somewhat deaf elderly grandfather (paternal, it'll help if you know which grandfather I am writing about when) to pick me up in front of baggage claim at terminal B, while trying to communicate with him over cell phone that terminal B is at the end of the airport driveway and that "I am at the VERY end standing under the Mexicana sign" and his continuous response "but I'm in front of arrivals and I don't see you" and then me saying "Grandpa, keep driving until you DO see me. I am at the VERY END. Keep driving" and then him "I'm parked and I don't see you" and then me...well you get the point. Fifteen minutes later, he realized I was at the VERY END of the very end of the terminal B, just like I had said. Once I was in the car, the conversation was filled of him talking about his harem of elderly widows with whom he takes aqua-cize at the community center. I have discovered that the way to have a really rockin' social life is to be an 84 year old widower.
The next day, my father, his partner, and myself drove down to Clovis, CA for my niece's high school graduation. I always enjoy seeing my brother and his family and this time was no exception but I'm thinking the vast amounts of wine helped to alleviate the earsplitting decibels of teenage girls squealing. And when all was said, done, and squealed, Amanda, my niece, graduated in a ceremony full of fireworks and not just because my sister-in-law and I sneaked in a flask. She was beautiful and not just because we sneaked in a flask.
The day following her graduation, Amanda had her first truly adult duty to perform, Lunch With Grandma. My mother is chaos. She is sneaky in the way she personifies chaos: her voice is gentle (until she layers it with ice and steel), she's frail (until she verbally whips you), and she's ill (so there isn't a thing you can do to protect yourself). While I love to see her, she is making it harder and harder to connect with her. While I don't "go home" much, I am always incredibly surprised by how much she has changed. She no longer resembles the image I have in my head of my mother. I know time changes us all and aging is a part of life, but I expected her to mellow and bloom like a fine wine instead of turning to vinegar. I am hoping that we have enough love to turn her back.
That was it for time in Clovis. I boarded a train and then a bus and made my way to sunny Los Angeles to attend the high school graduation of my cousin, Avery. And yes, there was a good deal more teenage girl squealing. I hadn't seen my cousin (or the rest of this side of the family) in about 10 years, maybe more. As my uncle and cousin picked me up from Union Station, my aunt picked up my grandfather (maternal) and his new wife (of 3 years). The two cars met at my aunt's work: Warner Bros. Studios. We got a nice tour of the lot, met lots of lovely people, and I learned a great deal about the people I was about to spend 2 days with, some good, some...not so good.
To be continued...
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