Contacts: Don't Leave Home Without 'Em

On Wednesday my cousin/wedding coordinator and I drove to Walla Walla from Portland for the Thanksgiving holiday. She lives there, and I was visiting.

I have driven up the Columbia Gorge countless times in my life - I used to travel with my grandparents bi-monthly to visit my great-grandparents. I have lived in College Place and beyond and driven to Portland bi-weekly for choir practices and performances at my church. I-84 is so familiar to me that I cannot help but recall the many trip memories from my childhood every time I pass through.

My grandparents were teachers before their retirement and our journeys were always filled with lessons for me, usually math and/or constellations while I laid in the back window of their Volkswagen Rabbit.

Since this four-hour drive is old hat to me, I did not find it necessary to wear my contacts as I had no need to read the highway signs. Once we reached our destination in College Place, I dropped my cousin off and continued on my list of people to see all in the same evening. Having spent a good amount of time in College Place as a child, college student and later housewife, I can easily transverse the small town by landmarks alone.

My other two cousins and their families live in Walla Walla, which is a sister town to College Place and only really separated on a map. It was dark by the time I headed through downtown en route to the first of their houses and I was going on directions written on a napkin that I could not see because the borrowed Subaru had no dome light.

I wandered the neighborhoods near Whitman College before realizing that I had not gone far enough on Isaacs Street. I finally found Bellevue Street and made the correct left turn. I then began looking for an alley/driveway after the second house on the second block. There it was! I pulled in to my left and tried to figure out where to park. It took me two phone calls to figure out that I was supposed to be on the RIGHT side of the street, not the left. I came out of the alley, crossed Bellevue and parked behind my cousins house for a lovely 45 minute visit.

As dinner time neared it was my cue to move on to the next location. I had been instructed to take a right on Isaacs and then a left on Division, but was not told how far down to find Division. As I could not read the street signs until I was quite literally upon them, I soon found myself winding around Whitman College again, heading the wrong direction. I made another phone call and was set on the correct path. I had been told that if I got to the three-way stop I had gone too far, so of course I had to flip a U-turn when I hit it and finally made it to my dinner host's abode.

After dinner and much stress (Scott decided on Wednesday night to fly out to Portland on Thursday) to book an airline ticket, it was time to cross town again to the cousin's house I was staying at. I departed heading in the general direction of College Place, intending to zig-zag across Walla Walla and come back in on Rose.

As I took a right through a main intersection, the car fishtailed. Granted, it was well below freezing, but I thought for SURE the ground was dry. I gained control easily and took my next left onto what I thought was Rose. I began to hear the tell-tale thump-thump-thump of a flat tire. I pulled over and braved the cold to investigate. Sure enough, the rear left tire had blown out completely, I could stick my hand IN the tire at the edge.

I made yet another phone call for rescue and had to get out of the car and trot over to a street sign to read where I was. Apparently NOT on Rose and NOT in a "good" part of town. I locked myself in the Subaru and awaited my knight-in-shining-Camry (aka my cousin's husband).

The moral of the story is two-fold.

1. Wear your contacts when driving, you silly woman.
2. Double check the contents of your purse before you leave town with the keys to the abandoned car.
   

Ode

I called my maternal grandmother yesterday to thank her for the very thoughtful birthday card she sent me.

It may be the first time I've called her in the year since I moved to Florida. When she answered I was surprised that she sounds old now.

Growing up I spent a lot of time with my mom's parents. My mom was an executive and traveled around the country a lot. Most of these trips meant that I stayed with my Grandma and Grandpa during her absence. When I was very young, I would spend the morning with a babysitter and then join my grandparents in the afternoon at the two-room school where Grandma taught 1st through 4th grade and Grandpa taught 5th through 8th. As I got older I stayed at the school with them all day, hanging out in the loft and reading or drawing.

At home with them, Grandma taught me to bake, crochet and sew. On trips to Walla Walla, Grandpa taught me to count and about the constellations. I recall many trips before the seatbelt laws came into effect where I laid in the back window of their Volkswagon Rabbit and gazed at the stars during the four-hour trip. We would take this same trip about once a month and then more frequently as my great-grandparents health failed. Driving through the Columbia Gorge holds countless memories for me and it is still a pleasant experience.

I learned to read early, thanks to my mom reading to me every night before bed and my grandparents doing the same when I stayed with them. My favorite book to have Grandpa read to me was "Nose Is Not Toes." Even now one of the first things he says to me is "Marisa, nose is not toes!" and giggles.

I learned to ride a bike thanks to my grandparents. They purchased a black and yellow boy's bike with training wheels at a garage sale and we began the process. I was horrified at first to have to ride a BOYS bike, but I got over it quickly. In later years I would have a bike at their house and the three of us would ride together. I was so proud that my Grandparents rode bikes at their age (I think they were probably in their late fifties or early sixties at the time).

I vividly recall the pattern of the linoleum on their kitchen floor. I remember the summer that they tore out the tree that had the three swings hanging from it's biggest bough and replaced it with a koi pond. The pond was finished just in time for my birthday party, and I was invited to swim in the pond with my friends before the fish were put in. I remember that my grandfather was an honorary member of the engineers club at Shady Dell, and they took us to ride the miniature trains often.

I was in still in elementary school when I grew taller than my grandparents. When I was in high school they moved from the house I had spent so much time in to one near some of my Grandma's siblings. Now our trips to Walla Walla were to see my grandparents, instead of with them.

About 5 years ago my Grandma was diagnosed with cancer in her abdomen. Right about the same time one of my very close friends who was only 25 was also diagnosed with abdominal cancer, but she was pregnant. My friend underwent mild chemotherapy and initially seemed to be responding well to the treatment. Because of this, I strongly encouraged Grandma to also have chemo. Sadly I lost my friend after 3 months of her battle, but Grandma went into remission. In the four years since she has 3 relapses and 3 more rounds of chemo.

I am suddenly faced with my grandparents' mortality. I am not ready. They contributed so much to my childhood memories and education, and I want them to meet my children and have my children have the opportunity to learn from them.

When they go I will not be ready, even if they are. I owe them an immeasurable amount of gratitude and can only hope that I have begun to express that to them in the time I have left.