Kennedy meadows

Kennedy meadows....

    A few years ago we started as a family making an earnest effort to get together more as an organized event.  It used to be that the only time we were all together at the same time was a death or a wedding.  And in our family death and weddings aren't quite the same as other families. Let's just start with death, my grandpa tommy started this family tradition of burying our  own dead which believe it or not is perfectly  legal in Oregon. The way I have heard the story is that my grandpa had watched a 60 minutes episode in which bad things were reported to happen in morgues.  He apparently found out that legally in Oregon you can avoid going to the mortuary at all. So instead after my grandfather passed away the family called the paramedics who came  and pronounced him truly dead. At that time, my brother and dad cleaned him up, a rather unfortunate chore and dressed him in his favorite jogging suit. They then gently placed him in the coffin which was sitting in the living room.  They all sat and cried staring at his sad dead body propped up in the coffin. Then grandpa had the last word by farting enormously, then came some great belches. No one was prepared that a dead body releases gasses. They all laughed historically, the night swayed back and forth between tears and laughter.  In the morning it was clear the time had come to close the coffin up and say some last good byes. So after some tears were shed and final words were said everyone watched sadly as  aunt Beverly pushed the lid of the coffin solemnly over grandpa . Then is where a glitch in grandpas romantic notion of his family burying him happened, he had stiffened up over the night like a paper mâché mannequin so when they went to push him down into the coffin it just wasn't panning out as they had all planned. They all looked at each other with a touch of horror . ." Push " mom yelled as she quickly shoved grandpas shoulders down into the coffin , quickly aunty shoved the lid closed. Their eyes all turned to saucers as the lid closed and they heard a loud thump on  the other side of the closed coffin lid..  they carried the coffin to the back of my brothers chevy truck.  They sat around as the grave digger did his digging, eating  Dairy Queen hamburgers all hungry and tired from a night filled of sorrow littered with laughter.
   When grandma felt herself approaching the kicking of the bucket  she wanted my dad to build the coffin. He kindly refused. My mom volunteered to make an art project out of it, together they bought a cardboard coffin and mom  decopauged the crap out of. In the end it was a colorful gaudy work of art. Grandma lived to see the finish product and loved it.  She was laid to rest in it in the same fashion as grandpa with all the family tending to the final details.
When my precious daddy passed away, we as a family carried on the same family tradition. It's to sad and painful to recount that day, but I'll only say I'm glad we drew the line when mama said she really wanted dad stuffed like taxedermi style. Oh lord , please can we just be a little normal?
  So let's just say our family can be a little quirky. But we sure have a great time together. There is five of us kids and between all the spouses  and grand kids we make quit a clan. We started incorporating family type reunions a few years ago.    Usually they consist of eating , eating,  drinking, and some more eating. I'm not complaining of course but this time we decided to have a smaller gathering in the mountains at a place called Kennedy meadows. It's a rustic cabin retreat high in the sierra mountains. We didn't have all the family together this time but there was still a large crew.  The rustic cabins were nestled between towering  granite mountain walls ,  with a beautiful creek that flowed with clear cold fresh water surrounded  by  tall pines. The old resort and lodge were the remnant of an old hunting lodge from the 1800s . There was a charming old cowboy saloon where the bartender was a 90 year old man who served us our whiskey and cokes with a dry but friendly fashion. All around the old saloon hung smiling dead stuffed deer heads and old photos of cowboys and cowgirls who were legends among this place. It felt like stepping back in time, it was the perfect family retreat. We were all pleasantly surprised when mom who is absolutely terrified of horses decided to mount up and go for the one hour ride on the first day. We all stared in disbelief As she climbed on the mannerly horse named glue stick. I think she was more interested in the cowboys than the horses but hey whatever it takes.  My nephew Andrew almost suffered a panic attack when they told him his horses name was thunder. " why can't I have one named dopey, or mopey or lazy or one like that?! Why do I get the horse named THUNDER?"   As he climbed on thunder Dave asked " did you wear brown boxers Andrew?" " they are now " he replied. As we waited in line for every one to finish mounting up my sisters horse took a step forward out of boredom.  " OH GOD ! Missy why is it moving? ". I laughter hysterically from the beginning to the end. Andrew my nephew has a humor that puts me in stitches and I laughed the entire trip. Before long everyone was more relaxed and enjoying the beauty of the journey. Even Tristan rode, I thought it was more likely that I'd be attacked  by a Sasquatch on  this trip than it would be possible that my insolent seventeen year old son would get on a horse. He despises them just to spite me, which I am really hoping he'll grow out of one day.  He rode a horse named rooster. His horse Kept  stopping to eat which was strictly forbidden then would trot off to catch up which was also vehemently forbidden. Rooster kept breaking the rules. Tristan liked rooster because of this. He said this is the horse version of me. Every time rooster would sneak food then trot off Tristan would giggle and pat him on the neck. By the end of the hour trip Tristan said "  I'll go on the whole day ride tomorrow but only of I can ride rooster" I about fell off my horse.
  This was a magical day for me, surrounded by my family who I love so much. For a change we were doing something besides eating or drinking and we just happened to be doing what I love the very most, riding on horseback through the mountains with dust and flies and the most magnificent Beauty all around us. We crossed creeks, rode through valleys ,crested mountain peeks , spied cattle and old cabin. We crossed bridges over granite ravines with dashing waterfalls.I couldn't help but think if one of the horses plunged off the cliff and one of us died, at least our family would know what to do. Maybe we would just bury him or her right there on the mountain.   Our final destination on the all day ride was a beautiful mountain lake high in the mountain range, no tourists, just a  remote peace piece of heaven on earth . We sat around doing what we do best, eating and drinking and laughing. I was never more proud to be a Bacon than on that day.
   So despite the quirkiness and obvious oddities of my family I love them dearly and am so appreciative and happy we find time in out busy worlds for each other.  

First date

First  " date" .....

  After the  unfortunate mishap of the Burning Afro in which I failed miserably on my state exam, my parents allowed me to stay with my brother And his family so  I could take a refresher course at the Livermore beauty college on how, not to catch African wigs on fire. It was during this time in which a friend invited me out for an evening in Berkeley to hear some music. I happily accepted the Invite. I spent a good thirty minutes with a hair pick ratting my long auburn permed curls until I was satisfied with my giant coiffure cascading down my back. My sister n law spritzed me with a shot of eternity perfume as I skipped out the door. When I climbed  in Andrews white Hyundai sedan I swallowed a gulp of empty air as the skinny boy with beautiful hazel eyes and chocolate brown wavy curls, smiled across the seat from me. I had had a childish crush on him since I was fourteen. He was a very manly seventeen when we met. We seemed worlds apart. But now as we sailed down the highway the gap between our worlds seemed to close with every passing exit. We Arrived at Gilman street in Berkeley at some strange punk club, loud obnoxious music pounded my ears, strange young people with Mohawks and frightening countenances jumped and crowded all around me, a mosh pit... I'd heard of it, but I wanted no part of it, I was nervous with all the smoke and sullen faces crowding around me. I decided to take my leave, this place wasn't for me.

 I sat quietly on the curb for a few lonely minutes before the
Skinny boy with the dark curls showed up beside me. I smiled  widely, happy he noticed I had dis- appeared. We sat on the curb for several hours, I can't tell you what we spoke about but I can tell you Gilman street would shape my life forever.
   A few weeks later, after many letters, because email, texting, Facebook, all of that was not heard of and long distant phone calls actually cost extra money ... Jimmie Arrived  in Oregon.  My heart still fluttered the way it did when I sat near him in the white Hyundai.  The second night he was there, we sat on the pink living room sofa surrounded by all the dusty taxidermy my mom has collected watching an old Frankenstein movie.   His hand slowly moved over mine, I froze in fear. My hand sat still like a piece of cold salami. Slowly as I caught my breath, my fingers clasped around his warm hand. He turned away from the Frankenstein movie and his lips touched mine. My first kiss. Warm and gentle soft and sweet.
  It wasn't long, maybe an hour or so, he " proposed" ... " I think we should get married".... Me.... " me too!..."
   Four months  later , a cosmetology license under my belt, I had turned 18. I walked down the isle in my gunny sack dress prepared to give my life to the skinny boy with the green eyes and the chocolate curls. I didn't really comprehend the responsibility or challenges that lay ahead, but I believed in love. And I believed I loved him.
  The last 24 years has taught me much about what I thought love was. Looking back I have no regrets, but it's been a long and winding road. There's been times when I Nearly gave up, but We have endured and we have reaped the benefits of not giving up. Life isn't a bowl of cherries all of the time, but it's worth waiting for the blossoms to turn to fruit. You have to endure the seasons to reap the rewards of the tasty fruit.
   It's not an extremely exciting life, it's not endured to much tragedy or triumph. It's really an ordinary life. But in a time when so many have given up, thrown in the towel, our life is a story of endurance, it's still a work in progress because I don't plan on it having an ending, just a beginning and a middle that endures forever.
True love endures all things, hopes all things, believes all things.....
 

The beginning...

 This Sunday we celebrate our 24 year anniversary. 24 years ago I was 18 years old and Jimmie was 21. We were not exceptionally mature, we were not overly responsible.  It's amazing when I look back on it, I has just finished my beauty school education. After a year of schooling I was ready for the state exam. As my dad drove me over the bay bridge into  Sanfransisco I had butterflies in my tummy. I had worked so hard all year and was very committed to this as a career  choice. I diligently  studied and memorized all the chemistry and all the fancy terms with more determination than I had ever studied my entire school life. The first part of the test was a written exam which I passed with 98% . The second portion was a practical exam where you perform all the tasks of a cosmetologist on a live model. I started out feeling confident, but as the afternoon rolled on and I got behind on all my tasks I began trembling inside. I was required to put an acrylic nail on my model. This was something I never paid much attention to in class because I had no intention of working on finger nails and felt it was unfair I had to learn about it any way. So as I piled the acrylic on the tiny finger of my friends mom it took on more the  shape of  a piece of play dough than a nicely shaped fingernail. The test instructor woman who walked around inspecting our work was a frightening figure which didn't help my tangled mess of nerves at all.  She was a large black woman, she had piercing  eyes with small black framed glasses that dangled on the edge of her nose. She slowly pranced around the room in her white smock glaring without an ounce of appreciation for anyone's work, but with a cynical snarl from her pursed lips she would stare coldly right through you. When she saw my " nail" she picked up Debbie's hand and stared blankly at the pathetic looking finger. Shaking her head in disgust she walked away writing on her clip board. My heart was racing  so fast I felt it would pop out of my chest and land on the manicure table.  Then it got worse. To get a cosmetology license you must be equipped to work on all hair types. That means being able to use a marcel iron. It's a tiny oven where you heat a curling iron that is used specifically on African hair. The oven gets very hot. In my kit I was given a mannequin head and a square patch of  African hair to show off my mad marcel iron skills. The way it works is you heat the iron in the oven, you must Always check how hot the iron is by touching it on paper before using it on the hair. As my iron heated up and I pinned my square of black hair to my fake head the frightening instructor came up behind me. She stood directly behind me , so close I could feel her hot breath on my neck. In my mind I could just hear her saying" little white girl let's see if you know how to do a black girls hair" with the fear inside me building my hands were shaking like a ninety year old woman, I quickly grabbed the iron and without a thought put it on the tuft of hair. I never checked on the paper towel which I so carefully had laid out . When the hot iron touched the much to oily hair it went up in flames! Literal flames! I quickly tried to pat it out with my hands, I blew as hard as I could, the flames went out as quickly as they had rose but then as smoke filled the room panic and fear set in with all the other students. I can't remember if a smoke alarm went off but I distinctly remember the shame I felt as the room was temporarily evacuated.
    When the day was over we all sat in a room as the names were called out to everyone who passed the exam, myself and another young Asian boy were the only two left in the room when the last name was called. I cried all the way home as my dad quietly drove me back over the bridge.
   This unfortunate event ultimately led to me marrying  the man of my dreams. He wasn't quit a man yet, but that's irrelevant. Because I so epically failed the exam my parents let me stay for three weeks with my brother to take a refresher course before the next exam. It was during this time I went on my first " date" . Within a few months time I'd not only have  my cosmetology license but also be signing a marriage license.  And so it goes, this was the beginning of the life that I have. The burning wig wasn't pleasant at the time but perhaps if I didn't catch it on fire and fail my test this would not be the life that I've had. There may not have been a grimes abroad or a grimes at home or a grimes in Santa Cruz. You just never know the silly little events that will shape our lives and our future. I'd burn a thousand wigs if I knew it would lead me here. That's enough food for thought for one night.

Surfing...

  The best part of surfing is the boys expend so much of there pent up energy. They have an outlet that is so physically demanding they have transformed from unhealthy boys with bags under their eyes from playing to much video games to kids that are muscular tan and fit and go to bed early so they can rise early to catch the best waves.  They spend time together,out in nature surfing side by side with dolphins and seals and when they return home they swap stories about who got barreled or how they are improving ect. This  is so much better than the virtual world we were fighting them living in before our move where everything was make believe and hours of brainless video games was there activity of choice.  Surfing has been a huge blessing for my family. It's something Jimmie can share with his boys, it's free it's healthy it's become a passion of all my boys. Passions are good when they don't harm anyone. I tried it one day. It was fun , frightening a little at first. I wasn't afraid of the sharks like I thought I would be. I've spent enough time watching the surfers and have never seen anyone mauled by a shark,  so that is very reassuring.  As I paddled out over my first wave the water hit my face then rolled me over I felt like I was in a washing machine for a second then popped back up laughing hysterically. I tried and tried to " Cath a wave" to no avail. The boys took turns pushing me into the waves as I did not have the strength to paddle fast enough.  Paddle paddle mom they would scream. I'd paddle till my arms felt like they were going to self combust and still couldn't get it, then Brock would tow  me out with his powerful arms, " hang on to my feet mom" . I get it. I totally understand why they all love it and for a few hours I let go of all my responsibilities and worries and just seized the moment. I let go of the fear of drowning or being fish diner and just relished in this precious time withmy kids where they could share something with me, that is important to them. They got to be the teachers and I sensed they really were happy for me to take time to share this time with them. It  was precious and unforgettable and I loved the experience. I loved being in the ocean floating around on that board with my whole family around me. It's definitely in the plans to try again soon. That night as I tried to fall asleep I had the sensation of water all around me. Do you remember being a kid and riding a roller coaster for the first time and when you try to sleep you feel like your sailing up high and dropping down low every time you close your eyes? It was like that.
   With all this exersize the boys get there's far less arguing in the house. They all get along much better. Cole who is near perfect in so many ways

First impressions....

  Well it's been just over three months into our new adventure.  It's been such an exciting change and we are all loving this new adventure. Our 1,000 square foot house is working for us better than we could have imagined.  Jimmie really resisted this house not so much because of the size. It's a modest two bedroom house with one full bathroom and a extra toilet in another room that is so tight I once hit my head on the door just bending over to pull my pants down. It was more the view from the front of the house he found fault with.  Of course we would have loved an ocean view or perhaps a view of the harbor where we could watch the sail boats wistfully  pass by as we sipped our evening champagne. I can't say I would have minded that either.  But hey let's face it , Santa Cruz is expensive and we are not rich. We had to make sacrifices in order to be able to afford living here so the square footage we were accustomed to was the first to go.  We will clean house, sell stuff , simplify.   Even Jimmie who has a borderline hoarder mentality was willing to make changes to live near the beach. But as I hunted obsessively for our new beach pad it became clear more sacrifices were going to be necessary. Our price range offered us about 6-700 square feet or were utterly awful ugly houses that people were having bidding wars over, so when I saw this place with 1,000 square feet that was already clean, hardwood floors a recently remodeled bathroom, slightly updated kitchen I looked past the view of Walgreens from the front of the house. Yes the neon sign glows into our house at night like a parked space ship, yes sometimes the local vagrants like to crash in the Walgreens bushes and sing " who let the dogs out?!" At three in the morning, ( that actually happened)  and yes it's not an ocean view but hey it has it's perks, running out of toilet paper has never been so exciting. I literally open my front door , walk across the street and buy my t.p. why the unfortunate guest waits on the porcelain throne and I'm back in two minutes.  We have grown to love this Walgreens, ice is out ,,, no problem,,, craving chocolate?  I'll be back in two minutes,  forgot your tooth brush?  No worries....
   There are other perks to this location also, there's a fabulous nature preserve around the corner that gives us a fantastic walk to the harbor and then to the beach. So we can still actually sip champagne.
And watch the boats we just have to pedal or walk home to our lovely  home next to walgreens.
  No matter which way we choose to walk , an endless variety of tasty grub calls me, tantalizing me with smells and inviting atmospheres that are reminiscent of San Francisco or sometimes even European cafés.  I have done a good job of eating my way through this small city and plan on writing about all my favorite places.
    It's good to count your blessings, we've had lots and we've had nothing, it's all good either way, a joyful heart comes from the inside and not external things, but it's a pleasure to be able to absorb the beauty of nature on a daily basis, to slowly breath in fresh ocean air and and take time to be thankful. I hope to live every day thankful I still breath, and those I love are breathing next to me. And also I'm thankful for peanut butter cookies. Peanut butter cookies from the buttery,  my favorite bakery I walk too. I'm very very thankful for the buttery. ....

Grimes in Santa Cruz

   It's been just over a year since I've wrote on this blog yet so much has changed.  Last summer when we were carousing around Europe I had no idea such change was on the horizon . I felt like we were pretty content in our happy little house in Colfax . We had good friends, a lovely house complete with a pool in a country setting surrounded by tall pines and oak trees. We have moved so many times I thought that this was our last stop.  I am not sure why every few years I get this wrestles feeling inside, this ache for change and I can't seem to drive it away.  Perhaps our Europe travels egged it on this time, I'm not quit sure, all I know is it was back.  So when jim started saying he wanted one day to settle near the ocean I jumped on the idea train. Why wait? The kids are growing to an age that if we wait a few more years they will be established in their life in this sleepy little town of Colfax, if we move then we will all be separated. Let's do it now. The kids had all taken such a liking to surfing with their dad they were surprisingly all on board with the idea. I'm not sure how it all happened next but it sort of went like this....
  1- a conversation about living near the beach
   2- a few drives to Santa Cruz to confirm that was the beach town of choice
   3- a call into a our realtor friend to list the house
    4- house sells in three days with a thirty day escrow
     5- roughly 5-6 weeks later we live in Santa Cruz

   And so now begins another crazy new adventure. The grimes in Santa Cruz..
  I think I will begin journaling on here again because life feels so fresh and new. Every day is a new opportunity  for inspiration of one  kind or another. There is so much I'd like to record for my own personal remembrance and I feel  like expressing myself through writing spurs me to look at life in a different   way , in stead of just passing the moments of the day, I find myself looking for something clever or funny or joyful to share. So let's see what the future holds for the grimes in Santa Cruz..