I have probably lifted over 2000 boxes on this trip. Or maybe lifted the same 100 boxes 20 times. I have probably run up my mother’s new stairs with those same boxes, it feels like at least 2000 times. But we managed to get her moved, her old tax files ready for the shredder (yeah, had to move all of them to the new house first. Why was that again?), her pictures hung on the walls, furniture arranged, cat box properly parked, and donations taken away (yes, also moved first to the new house and rearranged a few times). All I can say is that since my mom has moved way more times than the national average, at least she had less than her new roomie, Ann, who moved out of a four bedroom house she had been in for 20 years. Ann’s daughter Laura came from Minnesota and she and I were the superstars of lifting, hanging, trashing, and slapping our mothers around until they succumbed to our will. There will still be a battle of who’s yucky knickknacks get to be where, but the daughters will be gone before that happens and I am pretty sure it won’t come to blows. These are civilized basadi bogoles, (old women – said respectfully, of course) after all.
My dear college friend Nancy came all the way down from Ashland to spend 24 hours with me and help my mother move. We ran all the fragile items from my mom’s apartment to her new home so the moving guys didn’t freak us out with their abandon when it came to handling techniques. We then went to a fancy Croatian restaurant in downtown Palo Alto, had a couple drinks and lots of yogurt based sauces and hit the movie theater to see Sarah’s Key. We munched on our mutually favorite candy - peanut M&Ms - and enjoyed the film in our mutually favorite foreign language (French). This is what makes friendships last for the long haul. Merci beaucoup mon ami! She got a call right before she headed home that a dear friend of hers had died (not totally unexpectedly). So she was needed there. She totally rocks.
I also was lucky enough to be able to connect with my high school bud Barbara, the first friend to send me a care package with ground coffee, chocolate chips, and some of her company’s wonderful skincare line with sunscreen (MED – check it out!) We walked around the lake at Shoreline and had a beer and onion rings while watching the kids and adults paddle, canoe, sail and often crash into each other on the lake. Good times and I needed the laughs!
I try not to make a visit to Palo Alto without spending an hour with my elementary school best friend Diana and her two young adopted kids (Sophia who is 3 and Blake, who is a little over 4) so I was thrilled they were in town. Both kids have some language and attachment issues because of their initial start in life and Diana is working hard, with all kinds of specialists, to help give these kids everything they need to catch up to their age groups, and the way I know Diana, eventually far surpass their peers. This was only the 3rd or 4th time I have seen them, but they remembered me. Sophia started crawling on top of me right away, Blake took a bit longer but eventually they had both climbed to eat their boxes of raisins in my lap, with me catching the random ones so we didn’t all have to step on them later. Those kids and their mom (and grandma!!!) are so awesome.
Since I came home, I was able to collect some of the things I couldn’t fit into my bags initially, and go out and buy some things I thought I would need. Thus, I once again have too much to fit into my bags for this trip to Africa. What was I thinking??! My mom thinks I should ditch some of this junk and make room for the 56 oz. bags of peanut M&Ms. She is so obviously an enabler. I have a couple of days to decide if I am able to allow this type of codependency. I also have a large duffle full of clothing I am taking back to the disability support groups I am working with in my area. While here I had to go to the DMV because they had sent me a notice that my car (which I sold in March) had not been registered. We decided I should walk in and say, “I am a Peace Corps volunteer, home because my dad just died and I am helping my mother move. Please fix this for me.” And then break into tears. I may try this at the ticket counter at Delta when I check in for my 100 hour flight. Can’t go too overboard or they won’t allow me on. A fine balance must be struck.
Over the last week, during this arduous move of two mothers over 70, two otherwise respectable daughters decided that both of us should be able to use the “peace corps volunteer, dad died, mother being moved, please help me god or I don’t know what I will do” for anything we need. Cutting in line at the grocery, buying copious amounts of beer, grabbing the disabled parking space, etc. The news would report a strange rash of Peace Corp Volunteer inappropriate behavior in the Palo Alto area, and we decided this might get me in some trouble back at the African Ranch. Fun while it lasted, but better not.
My sister called me from the road the afternoon before my dad’s funeral. My niece was driving the car they were in, somewhere near Vallejo during commuter traffic and they reported to me that a couple of African Americans were at the side of the road, apparently peeing. They were a bit shocked. I asked them how far away they were from the public pee-ers. Oh, they were on the other side of the road, so maybe 30 feet away. I told them that was no big deal and I have had short conversations with men peeing three feet away from me along dirt roads in Botswana. But I only did this when they greeted me first, because it would have been rude not to say hello back. When I can walk by without being greeted, then of course I don’t start the conversation. That gave my sister and niece something besides the terrible traffic to ponder during the remainder of their road trip. We all know that men can talk while they pee, but I am just not sure why they feel the need to.
I was able to see both my father’s younger brothers who came from back east for the service. My oldest brother Rudy was there. Terry’s family was represented by my wonderful niece Jazlyn, who has the most incredibly wondrous if not slightly disconcerting laugh. I represented me. Paul’s family couldn’t make it but his brilliant daughter Sarah, on her way to Boston University to study pre-med and her grandparents on her mom’s side sent beautiful flowers and plants. Kathleen, Gary and their kids Gillian and Kaitlyn were there, on their way to taking Gillian to college in Monterey. Stan picked Jazlyn up in Ukiah and she served as his co-pilot for the drive (trying hard to tune out the constant companion of the GPS sexy voice.)
Old family friends where at the service and reception, including one of my father’s law partners Karen and her husband and the Tatums, who’s three kids were in the same grades as me, Paul and Kathleen. My dad’s old babysitter from Massachusetts, who now lives in the Bay Area, also showed up for the service! She has got to be 90 something, since my dad was 82, but she looked quite fit.
The time I had with my family, Stan and friends of my Dad was very short, now looking back maybe a bit too short, but I knew my two kitties in Otse would be running out of food and litter sometime soon, and sleeping at my mom’s on the couch couldn’t go on forever. I have two homes now – US and Otse – and I needed to get back to my African home and get back to work.
I appreciate all the loving thoughts and cards sent to me and my family at this tough, tough time. I feel very lucky to have all of you.
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