Still Walking

Monday, April 5, 2010

Easter with Pat

Yesterday was Easter Sunday, though it didn't feel too much like an Easter. I usually associate it with warm Spring days, church bells chiming, Easter egg hunts, friends and family...but it was cold and gray and it felt empty and joyless, not unlike my mood...

A neighbor down the street, Pat, had invited my mom and I to come over for Easter, so with no other plans, we went. I hadn't exactly been looking forward to it, since I would hardly know anyone, and besides, they were all my mom's age and older. It underscored the sense of detachment from the day, and my sense of isolation as I kept thinking of past Easters, and the past days of joy and fun they represented, which seemed light years away. But I thought, well, it'll be fun just to get out and go somewhere new, even if it was just a few doors down. And I was appreciative of Pat's generosity in having me over.

When we got there, about 6 or 7 neighbors were already there, I recognized Ron...and we all greeted each other warmly. I was in 'social mode' with an air of politeness and savoir faire, which was greatly polished when I worked at the store, when multitudes of seniors would come through my line.

Though after awhile, it became less of an 'act' and more of a natural state, as I became more comfortable in chatting with Ron and the other folks who were arriving. Ron had been good friends with my dad, and he told stories of their fishing exploits, and I told stories of his younger days when I was growing up in San Jose. We talked baseball with some of the others too. I don't know what it is about old ladies and baseball, but many of them are such huge fans! My mom included. As the afternoon wore on, some of them sat down to play cards (a game I've never heard of) as they gossiped about some of the neighbors. Others were riveted to the Yankees - Red Sox game on TV, as I partially was, though mindful of the fact that it's not entirely polite to watch the tube during a social gathering. But my mood had certainly elevated from earlier in the day. Ron asked me how I liked it in Tulare. I said I liked it fine, though it's quieter than I'm used to, and to be honest I missed my life back up North, and felt like I'm living in a sort of aftermath. He said, "Well, I think alot of us go through that...here's a test to see if your mission on Earth is finished; if you're alive, it ain't!" I laughed and said, "yeah, that's a good one!"...and it was.
Ron has a slight accent, as do many of them...though down here it's not so much an accent as it a regular local dialect. A southern accent, from Texas/Oklahoma, or to put it plainly, an 'Okie accent', which is probably different if you're in Oklahoma, but perfectly natural here. I thought once again of 'The Grapes of Wrath' which I had in an earlier blog. (see below) Especially when Pat began talking about Lendell Ranch. "We left our damn pickup at Lendell Ranch when we finally moved outta there...that thing got us to California, but it wasn't goin' an inch further..."
Lendell Ranch was a government run camp which housed thousands of displaced families looking for work in the Central Valley. It was built in 1938, and to this day it's hexagonal pattern of streets is part of an old neighborhood south of Visalia. Tagus Ranch was another one, just north of here. I began to realize that aside from watching 'The Grapes of Wrath' a few weeks ago, here were living icons of that era. And I felt a certain sense of honor to be spending Easter with them, because they are indeed the salt of the earth.
When we left, I thanked them all warmly and genuinely, and I walked home thinking of the hardship that many of them must have indured when they first arrived in California, and how petty and foolish I was for being in such a funk earlier that day. And the words still echo...
"Here's a test to see if your mission on Earth is finished; if you're alive, it ain't..."

Friday, April 2, 2010

Illustration Friday - Dip

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Originally uploaded by danguerra444

Nothing like a dip in the ocean to discover a whole new world down there.

Friday, March 26, 2010

Illustration Friday - Rescue

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Originally uploaded by danguerra444

This is based on an old Norman Rockwell drawing, I updated the ballplayer...nothing like being rescued by your boyhood hero!

Monday, March 22, 2010

Cousin Mike

Last Friday night around 7:00 the phone rang, my mom picked it up, "Hello? oh hi Norman!..." There was silence..."WHAAAAAT!!!!...OH NOOO IT CAN'T BEEE!"

"oh oh" I thought, this doesn't sound good.

"When??...what happened?..."

I got up and walked into the kitchen, my mom had a look of shock. When she hung up, she was already in tears, with her hands on her cheeks she said, "your cousin Mike died."

"WHAAAAT?" At first I just didn't believe it, there must be some mistake...not Mike. We had just seen him a month earlier, at Uncle Friney's funeral in LA, and he was as robust and full of life as ever. "How?"

"Well, he was coaching soccer and he said he didn't feel good, so he sat down on the lawn, then he just keeled over, and that was it!...must have been his heart..."

I was overcome with a kind of cold numbness, the kind that comes with a particular shock and disconnect. This couldn't be true...Mike was the last person I had expected, there are so many relatives who have gotten older, and sometimes you half-expect to get a 'call' once in awhile about them...but not Mike, he had just turned 60, he had soooo many years left. And he was always youthful in his ways, the way he related to everyone with a sense of humor and a genuine kindness. From day one, he was always a favorite of the family. During family get-togethers, "oh, Mike's coming? coool!..."

Whatever spark there is in humans that gives them a certain kind of 'goodness', Mike always had it.

I remember when I was 5 years old, Mike and his brother Art were in town for a visit, around Thanksgiving. Mike was 12 at the time, "Hey Danny! I got something for ya!" He handed me a small package, it was a balsa wood airplane, the kind you put together and attach a propeller with a rubber band. He got one for himself too. We sat down on the curb, "Here, I'll show you how to put it together..." And with a patience and understanding far beyond his 12 years, he helped me put mine together and we flew them. I will never forget that day.

When our grandfather died in 1970, Mike spoke at the funeral in Tulare, he was only 20! But even then, he gave one of the most eloquent speeches. He spoke of the Giant Forest in nearby Sequoia National Park, how our grandpa was like one of the Giant Sequoias, now fallen, but a great grove still existed among the rest of us, and how the forest carries on...we were all moved by his speech. He became the go-to guy after that. Grandma, Uncle Bob, Uncle Toody (his dad), Aunt Carmen...Mike always spoke with a gentle passion that was just right.

As we got older, all of us cousins were busy with our own lives and didn't stay in as much contact as we liked, but it was always a grand reunion when we got together. Mike drove a Chevy van in the 70's and took road trips all over in it. Sometimes he would stop in San Jose on a surprise visit, and it was always a wonderful surprise, as he filled the room with his wit and humor, and genuine good nature. It was always good to see Mike.

We played golf a few times, and always bought a 6-pack of Bud for the back 9, and laughed at how it consistently improved our golf game. Mike later became a pastor, and also a teacher and coach, which he loved. He was deeply spiritual, but never 'preached'...

After we heard the news, we settled in with the sadness and we keep shaking our heads, "I still can't believe it." I kept thinking of his Forest speech, and how so many great trees have since fallen, some only recently. And his was one of the highest, and strongest in the family, and we all basked in its shade, and in its presence...it wasn't supposed to fall this soon.

But the forest will carry on as it always does...but right now, the forest is a quiet and lonely place.