I thought perhaps fall would have established its presence in the five days of my absence, but although there was a lot of yellow and brown in the patchwork of fields the forests were sill leafy and green; not that I’m complaining. I was also pleased by the fact that Indiana has more forested land than Illinois. That substantial increase started just east of the Wabash River, whose brown water wound away toward the horizon like the southwestern border of the state, though I was too far north for that to have actually been what I was seeing. Unfortunately, as we came in for our landing at Indianapolis International, I could once again clearly see the warehouse where I park my truck; where I will soon have to go back to work.
Santa Barbara, California; I can’t possibly do justice to the trip in this small space. I could give you a sense of the beauty of the place, perhaps, and outline the circumstances that took me there. I could say that I traveled with my 83 year old father, afflicted with Parkinson’s disease and mild dementia, to give some scope to the experience. Stories of caring for him might get a laugh, and some sympathy. I could say that I went to visit relatives who I haven’t seen in 25 years, some longer. But it would take a full memoir, or a novel to convey a sense of the significance it had for me.
The occasion was my second cousin, Dylan’s bar mitzvah. Lynda, my cousin, suggested that we get the older generation together, perhaps for the last time. She offered to fly my dad and I out to California and put us up in a hotel “right across the street from where the ceremony is going to be.” How could I refuse? I’d already used up all of my vacation time but was willing take a loss to see this happen; both for dad and for me. Fortunately my anniversary with the company occurred before my departure date and I was paid for my absence.
I’d mentioned to Lynda, in our messaging back and forth, that maybe I could cover the accommodations, so that they didn’t have to pay for everything. I never got a reply on that suggestion. Pulling into the circle drive in front of the hotel, amid lush tropical gardens overlooking the Pacific Ocean, I realized why. This place was obviously beyond my means. No, I should have offered to cover the air fare, not the accommodations. If there’s another, similar trip sometime in the future then that’s how it will be.
It was Lynda’s idea to bring us in early, on Thursday, while the bar mitzvah was on Saturday, so that dad could have time to relax into the situation and not be stressed. We were certainly comfortable, in our fireplace room overlooking the croquet lawn; and well cared for with someone from the hotel staff ready at our every beck and call. Walking the extensive grounds with their well maintained botanical gardens and strolling along the ocean provided entertainment for the soul. The big screen plasma TV in our room entertainment for the head, but that wasn’t used much. The food was consistently excellent; the service perhaps a little too good; they wouldn’t hear of me actually moving my own place setting over one seat by myself.
It was very relaxing, but there is a strong psychological component to Parkinson’s disease. I’ve learned never to go anywhere with my dad without the wheelchair. No matter how well he’s able to move when we start out as soon as he begins to worry that he might have an attack and freeze up, he surely will. We’d both been anxious to see the relatives. Friday night Aunt Claire got into town with her boyfriend Jack and their friend Lainey. Dad, though he’d been doing fine before dinner, was nailed with the worst attack that I’ve ever seen. He couldn’t get out of his wheelchair to sit in a regular seat, he couldn’t eat, in fact he couldn’t do anything other than mumble a reply when spoken directly to.
Fortunately that was the ice breaker and he didn’t freeze up like that again for the rest of the trip. It was also in that context that we discovered the healing power of the ocean. Sitting on the edge of the boardwalk in front of the hotel, listening to the surf, all anxiety was released into the salt air. Dad, who is a psychologist and sometimes used hypnotism on his clients, said, “I used to put people into a trance and tell them to imagine the waves coming into the shore…”
The service on Saturday was beautiful. It was held outside, at a facility connected with the hotel, overlooking the Pacific. Dylan performed spectacularly; far better than I did at my own bar mitzvah, long ago. But it was long. I was getting antsy myself, and could tell that Dad was uncomfortable. The shadow of the umbrella we’d sat beneath moved and he was left in direct sun for much of the program. Later, toward the close of the ceremony the evening fog began to roll in and it got chilly. Dad was a trooper though, and stuck it out to the end; after which the convenience of already being at the hotel was much appreciated.
After I got him cleaned up Dad wanted to lie down for awhile. He wasn’t sure that he’d be able to make it to the reception and told me to go back by myself. That wasn’t going to fly with me, not unless he could convince me that he really couldn’t do it. I used multiple arguments. “You’re right,” he’d say each time, and continue to lie there. Finally I said, “C’mon, Dad, just put in an appearance and then I’ll bring you back.”
“You’re right,” he said again and sat up. Hell, he had a great time! The party was geared toward the young people, Dylan and his friends. There wasn’t a band, just a DJ, and except for some old school soul it was mostly hip hop that was played; loudly. The cousins and I couldn’t take it and congregated outside; but not Dad, he wanted to stay right where he was. I think he was absorbing energy from the young people. He wasn’t moving, but he must have been dancing inside. We didn’t stay till the end, but we stayed pretty late, considering.
And I got acquainted with several of my cousins, and their spouses (what few pictures I have). It was too long ago, and I was too young then to say that I had ever really met them before. We met again on Sunday, at an informal brunch at Lynda’s house. I’d wanted to somehow reconnect with the family for years. The main purpose of the trip was as a gift to my dad, but it became the answer to that prayer of my own as well. Now the challenge will be to stay in touch and deepen these relationships, something I’m not very good at doing.
The trip was a success. Caring for my dad wasn’t as arduous as I’d imaged it would be, and although I was once the black sheep of the family, back when I was a mixed up kid, there were no lingering tensions along those lines. And gosh darn it I had a really good time. What I’d expected to be work, leaving me exhausted, turned out to be fulfilling and even relaxing. I can still imagine the waves coming into shore, and gain peace thereby, though the rest of it begins to fade, as if it were only a dream.
In fact it was such a success that there is another trip already planned! My Uncle Si can’t travel and couldn’t be at the bar mitzvah, and my Aunt Charlotte was absent as well. So sometime at the beginning of next year, January or February, we’re all going to Arizona, to Si and Virginia’s place. Cousin Ann has declared that she will get Charlotte there even if she has to drive her all the way from Northern California. The dead of winter will be a great time for me to get out of Indiana and I’ll get to see some of the family again. Hooray!
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