We had a wonderful mini-vacation. Visiting my grandparents is like recapturing my childhood for a few days. My toys are still in the closets and my grandmother makes all my favorite foods. And, luckily, Ben also enjoys just sitting around and talking to my grandparents.
Highlights from the past five days:
Drive down to Los Angeles:
Passive aggressive hate: In the Central Valley, we saw a billboard that had a picture of some good ol' boy politician and said "politician's name SUPPORTS the Boy Scouts." Why mince words? The politician probably couldn't get "I hate F*gs" approved. Two hours out of the Bay area and we're in a totally different country.
Day One in Los Angeles:
Force-feeding: Within thirty seconds of entering my grandparents' house, we're offered food. Before we arrived, my grandmother made five different types of cookies, a pie and bread. After she realized that I have gained weight, she brought out fruit. Her honesty was refreshing, however.
Me: I know -- I've gained weight.
I hope for a contradiction.
Grandma: Well, go put on something that covers your arms.
Me: Thanks.
Computer withdrawal: I actually started thinking that I could make a computer from household objects (toaster?) lying around the house. "Wow, this old, broken typewriter kind of looks like a computer. Maybe this will work."
Acceptance: "Watching television news (despite the anchors' creepy L.A tans) is sort of like going onto MetaFilter."
Cultural enrichment: My grandfather told Ben and I to rent Rush Hour because he had been impressed with the Chris Tucker interview on Charlie Rose. Unsure of my grandmother's appreciation of a "onesa" film (you know, as in one's a martial artist, one's a street-smart, wiseacre), we settled for Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon and Meet the Parents. They thoroughly enjoyed both films.
Dinner: Stuffed cabbages, apple cider and homemade apple pie.
Day Two at Disneyland:
Disturbing stuffed animal: This Winnie the Pooh toy with an odd-looking and strangely placed water jug.
Biggest disappointment: Disneyland took out Dick Dale's music in Space Mountain.
Biggest sign that we're not kids anymore: "Hey, Ben, let's ride on the Mark Twain (the white steamboat). That way we can just sit and rest." Or "Let's go see "Great Moments with Mr. Lincoln." Interestingly, Great Moments with Mr. Lincoln has been revamped and actually was quite enjoyable.
Nicest change: The entrance to the Tiki Room has been made more prominent and more people seem to be enjoying my favorite ride.
Best purchase: The Disneyland gallery now sells prints of the stretching pictures from the elevator in the Haunted Mansion. I bought the one with the high-wire girl.
Dinner: Numero Uno pizza. It's such a memorable experience of growing up in the San Fernando Valley.
Day Three:
Retirement would agree with me: I sat out on the patio, reading the Loretta Young biography Forever Young. It was either this book or the AARP magazine.
Dinner: Wonderful wonderful homemade Polish food. Dumplings, pork chops, sauerkraut, homemade applesauce and garlic-cheese biscuits.
"In my day...": Ben and I sat for hours listening to my grandparents and great-aunt and great-uncle tell stories about their childhood. The highlight being my aunt's story about being born two months premature and actually being thrown away. "Luckily my grandmother fetched me out of the trash and put me in their oven -- a make-shift incubator." Another highlight: My grandfather arguing (for the sake of arguing) with his sister about how poor they were during the depression:
Auntie Florence: You can't imagine how bad we had it. It was a horrible time.
Dooley (my name for my grandfather): We weren't that poor.
Auntie Florence: Like hell we weren't.
Dooley: I had it good. I was the only kid in grade school driving a truck to school.
The punch-line? He had to drive the truck since he was forced to work in his father's auto-repair shop since he was eleven.
"Why HMOs are sh*t" story: Last year, my grandfather went to the doctor because his throat was bothering him. The doctor through his HMO examined him and told him he needed to drink more water. When that didn't work, he went to another doctor who diagnosed the problem as throat cancer. The cancer was partially removed but it came back. My grandparents then dropped their HMO coverage and bought private insurance. He found a new doctor and received radiation treatments at UCLA and, knock on wood, the cancer is gone.
Departure: Before we left, my grandmother told me that my Aunt Florence had called to say that Jerry Lewis had been murdered by a stalker in Las Vegas. We were a bit shocked and tried to catch news of his death during our entire trip back up 101. Not hearing a word of news I said to Ben that it kind of sucked to be Jerry Lewis to not even merit a second of wire reports. It was a bit depressing.
When we got home, the first thing I looked up on the Web was "Jerry Lewis murder" (which is a really disturbing search). It turns out that Jerry Lewis's stalker had died in prison.
Welcome back home and welcome back to 24-hour news gratification.
