Family & Friends
Holidays 2007

It's raining here and I'm listening to Herbie Hancock's take on Joni Mitchell's "Both Sides Now." It's a mellow, melancholy piano instrumental with some light bass and a touch of sax. It's a perfect soundtrack to this gray, cold day.

My husband and I returned from our long road trip north on Thursday night. We drove from Berkeley, CA to Bend, OR. This was our first experience driving in snow pack and on ice. We had chains but neither of us had ever put them on before. (One of the benefits of residing in California over a lifetime.) I remembered watching the bus and van drivers laying the chains out and driving onto them as the first step of installation. My husband was reluctant to try that as the [inept] directions said nothing about such methodology. Fortunately, we found a man who I named "ice angel" who installed the chains for us. We were lucky to have found him. Though the highway was well maintained by snow plows, the off ramp and street that D made a wrong turn onto were not. There was ice and snow pack that would have prevented us from making it onto the freeway had we not be equipped with that metal traction.

We made it to Bend safely. It took us about 10 hours. You can't drive more than 35 mph with snow chains, it would have been impossible to cut down our driving time.

I think I need to make a separate entry about Bend. I tend to spew when it comes to discussions about my father. Though I have bridged the gap that saw us in radio silence for 10 years, this trip reminded me that he hasn't changed. There are so many instances of wrong-doing on his part, the pain in me runs deep and my anger is close to the surface when I think or talk about it. One of the main reasons I didn't speak to him for so long was that I considered it an act of self preservation. It was easier for me to live a peaceful existence and love myself and recognize the beauty in life when he wasn't even a peripheral part of it. I know that our trip north made both my father and my step-mom very happy. We brought the spirit of Christmas with us. We got a beautiful tree, we made Christmas Eve and Christmas dinner, we brought homemade Christmas cookies and gifts. But this will be the last time we spend the holidays with them. It was a depressing experience for both my husband and me. My father's flippant remarks and incessant demands took the joy out of the things we did. And once we'd finished decorating the tree, making dinner and cleaning up, and opening presents, we had nothing to do there. My parents went to bed most of the day and early each night and my husband and I sat around on our computers (without internet access - ugh) playing video games for lack of anything else to do. I did read as well, but I didn't want to devour my book too quickly. I'd forgotten my journal and didn't savor the prospect of having nothing to read as well as no place to document my feelings and thoughts.

We stayed in Bend, sleeping each night in an uncomfortably short bed in a room that smelled of smoke, mold, and dogs. After four nights, it was time to depart. We packed up our things (which now also smelled like smoke, mold, and dogs!) and made the drive from Bend to Portland, OR. In case you aren't familiar with Oregon's geography, this requires climbing Mt. Hood. Unfortunately for us, it started to snow in Bend just as we were finished packing the car. This translated to snow flurries on the mountain. Fortunately, by this time, we were experienced installing chains and the process went much more smoothly, even in the dark. We pulled into a gas station, the only thing for miles. The snow was piled a foot deep everywhere except under the awning. There was a truck parked out front that was almost unidentifiable for the thick white cover that obscured its shape. We went inside to use the facilities and grab some hot cocoa, and on we went. The Edgefield was the light at the end of our tunnel. When we arrived at the hotel, we were assigned to a large, corner room with a king-sized bed. We dropped our things and went for dinner. (By this time is was 8pm and we were very hungry.) We shared a tasty dinner made from sustainably farmed meats and vegetables and tucked in early for the night.

In an episode of "Hard Core History" discussing The Great Depression, the host makes the assertion that people are imbued with better spirit as a result of having experienced poverty and privation. I share his beliefs. I come from a "hard" childhood and feel stronger for it.

Though we didn't listen to this episode until the final leg of our trip home, I was appreciating the message in that big bed. Having to sleep with my legs curled (my poor husband is even taller than I) for four nights made me appreciative of that spacious bed in a way that I wouldn't have had I come from my own bed. It represented a level of comfort that we had become unaccustomed to and I relished that night's sleep that much more for not having woken up hitting my feet or my head on foot or head board even once in the night.

The ride from Portland to Seattle was beautiful and easy. The landscape is punctuated with gnarly trees crowned with bird's nests, rolling green hills, and cows and horses grazing. It's a very different scene than you see in California, which is mostly golden in the open areas that remain.

I'm sorry to blog a partial entry, but my pregnant belly demands food NOW. Since I don't blog with frequency, I'm concerned that if I don't publish this now, that I may not pick it back up and that this time will have been wasted. So, there you go - Episode 1.

Happy New Year!

M