Aptos, The People

Right near Santa Cruz is a long stretch of beach in a curved moon bay. It is practically our very own, both by tradition (Mom and Doug have rented the house many times these past few years, even leaving beach towels behind to hold our place) and by dearth of visitors. We can sit on the second story balcony with our feet up, away from sun and wind, and watch the kids roll in the sand or have nighttime dance parties in front of the surf from the comfort of a chaise lounge, with a grill and a glass of champagne at the ready.

Aptos means “the people” in the Oloni language on the first inhabitants. That’s funny, because I thought it must mean “baby shark nursery,” or “place of feasting for teenage sharks,” which also describes our stretch of shore. Anyway, here are highlights of our visit from my people.

Finn: With Uncle Hugh, throwing the ball at each other’s sand castles on the beach, going surfing, and making the horror movie. And definitely Bridget’s birthday.

Marley: Walking to get lunch with Bridget, surfing, and the whole house. Oh, and singing on the beach at night and making the movie.

Justine: Surfing, being at the house and eating food. I just liked everything equally. Seeing the Santa Cruz campus. Seeing Uncle Paul.

Hugh: Hanging out at Cowell beach, seeing Paul, showing the campus to the kids, hearing Ron play guitar. Doing the sand castles with Finn.

Mom/Joanna: Escaping from Finn burying my feet, watching Paul teach the kids to surf, Ron’s spaghetti dinner, everyone hanging around the table telling stories and jokes.

Heather: hearing Hugh tell Poland and other travel stories about Dad/Poppy, seeing the kids at dinner having so much fun together and hearing Clara laugh, talking with Bridget at sunset on the beach, hearing the kids’ excitement about making their movie, early morning coffee chat with Rob and Paul, seeing Tatum happy in our zoom session.

Rob: The fondue party for Bridget’s birthday, the surfing and beach day (while being a beached whale myself), Finn’s video trilogy, seeing my friend Ali, not the Mystery Spot, Hugh’s guided driving tour of Santa Cruz, getting burgers. Ron’s spaghetti night.

Clara: making Ravens Revenge, having a dance party on the beach at night, and going to the Mystery Spot.

Farewell Auntie Carol

This is the first day in the world, or any world I know, without Auntie Carol. I wouldn’t think I could even write something about this except that Rory and Mom both posted something on Facebook yesterday with the news, and if they can say something, so can I. I think the hesitation is that it feels impossible to sum up something so monumental. How do you explain the life and importance of someone you love?

Auntie Carol is my godmother. Auntie Carol is Mom’s best friend since middle school. Auntie Carol is the Wallace mirror to my mom’s Wallace, the two tall girls in cat glasses and starched underwear, respectively. The two girls who went on to Vassar and Pomona, who went on to become a therapist and a journalist, and most importantly, the two who went on to become mothers.

Auntie Carol is such a presence. I love her hands, adorned with her wide gold wedding band and often a gold Irish ring and a pinkie ring on the other hand, and the way they moved so expressively and warmly. I held her hand in the hospital Friday evening and it warmed mine. Isn’t that the way with mothers? Even when you try to comfort them, they end up comforting you somehow.

In my mind, our mothers, Megan’s, Rory’s and Patrick’s and Robin’s, Hugh’s and mine, would be our ballasts forever because they always have been. Auntie Carol left me a message exactly a week before she died to wish me happy birthday. She sang to me, the way she has since I was a baby. The way she sang when Robin was on tricycle, Patrick was a blond baby, Hugh was in striped knee socks, Megan and I were sneaking out, and Rory was starting to shine in theater. Our mothers have always been there and always will, at least in my mind.

Some things I love and admire about Auntie Carol: She had great hair and her lipstick shade was always the right one. She was a fan of photos of her loved one and we were all plastered all over her walls, fridge and dresser tops. She had no compunction about going to bed an hour or three earlier than everyone else to read her books. She read all the time. She loved walks and we had good talks on walks, whether at Bethany, the Outer Banks, PLP (going to the library usually) or Deep Creek Lake. She loved beaches, per the previous sentence. She held no punches when it came to stating her opinion, but she was also gentle when she knew someone needed support. She kept things simple and she planned ahead; a pre-made lasagna was usually our first meal at PLP. She understood the power of conversation, phone calls, laughter and love. Even though she was no fan of computers, she persevered to use zoom. She was not religious but she liked the Evensong services by the main dock at PLP. She always got us beach treats. It’s the little things that matter, her actions always said.

She loved us. She understood our idiosyncrasies, and kept things real. She loved all of my family even after we changed shape. That was a true gift to me as a child caught in fluid worlds. Love is like water, it’s fluid too.

She also taught me an important message about managing life: Take one stressor at a time. Pick one to face and eliminate the rest. She helped me understand this during a difficult time in grad school, and I still frame my living this way. It is so helpful to give myself permission to let go the multiple worries to focus on one, which makes space to do that one well.

Her leaving is a shock that will take time to absorb and I suspect it will come in waves, just like her beautiful oceans. There will be periods of calm waters and then a memory, a realization, a wave that will crash and maybe tumble us. Uncle Sean, in a hug from Dad, said, “It was a good life,” and it was, but so much more of it was expected. KO, beloved mother, wife, friend, sister, daughter and godmother will be with us in the journey as we stay behind, coping a little better because of all she’s taught and given us.

I have to go, I need to call my mother and tell her that Megan just found a photo of the two of them as bride and bridesmaid in KO’s jewelry box. Love is treasure.

Seeing Sedona

The rocks are not bright like a cherry tomato or deep red like a margherita pizza sauce, but more orange-red like a robin’s breast caught in a glow of sunlight. One thing I didn’t expect in Arizona or Sedona was green. Along the Oak Creek Valley, it’s all sycamores and pines and oak trees braiding up the cliffs and down to the creek bed. It would be an awesome place to camp. That’s where we ate dinner at The Table at Junipine, which felt a little like dining on a patio in the alps for some reason.

Not that we considered camping. We stayed at the Sedona Summit Resort, which gave us two rooms, big cushy beds, huge bathtubs, a kitchen, and two patio spaces with views of the red rocks of Sedona. Early morning brought views of hot air balloons drifting by. Best of all, we had four pools and four hot tubs from which to choose. Tatum and I lay on the hot cement by one pool, with our pale legs browning and talked deep talks; and all of us swam or jaccuzied under the stars in another pool area. The club house pool area gave us giant Connect Four, ping pong and table soccer, which we used multiple nights, when we weren’t playing Kids Against Maturity.

Pink, like frosted toe nails pink, also featured prominently on our trip. We took a Pink Jeep tour up into the cliffs our first day. Our guide Mike was a former history professor and I loved seeing the old wagon trails from 1901, places where miles had to be attached to the back of the wagons because the descent was so steep, places where it took four days to travel 45 miles from Sedona to Flagstaff, where the train could bring in supplies or carry out goods for sale. The road felt practically as bumpy now, but it was fascinating and fun to be up in the red cliffs, which were once where Namibia is now.

There is of course not much to compare to the incomparable Grand Canyon. We took a bus tour because of the two hour drive each way and because I’d read about long lines to enter, sure to be an issue on a holiday weekend. I also didn’t know exactly what to do and where to go to “see” such a vast expanse. We were as nimble as mountain goats compared to our four elderly van companions, one of whom was on an oxygen machine, so we did zero hikes, regretfully. But we still saw the views of 24-miles-across expanse. Even though the river is the entire reason for the canyon, it was still somehow surprising to see the smoky emerald color of the Colorado River curving mystically through the dry, paprika-colored rocks.

Sedona brings out such a mix of people. In our hot tub, Mom and I listened to a big man with tats, a border patrol, and his wife boast laughingly about wearing a mask without fabric to bypass store rules. The man next to him, a child abuse investigator, a stranger until five minutes ago, shared his beer, Covid-germs no matter. The other big guy in the circle talked about how he could feel how real was the vortex in the earth in Sedona, “something else, real special.” I wondered what the Hopi elder I had met the day before, wearing turquoise and silver jewelry and unimpressed by the Navajo dolls for sale at the trading post, would think about that conversation. Elsie, the old Hopi woman who embroidered a flaw into every tapestry, including the one under which we sat to eat our Navajo tacos, passed away from Covid in December.

Family highlights are never about the grand things, are they? Here are some of the small moments we will cherish.

Tatum – when we were swimming at night, talking with Mom by the side of the pool, meeting Aunt Megan’s family, going to Flagstaff with Goodnews and Grandoug; just everything.

Finn – tossing the ball with Tatum and Clara in the pool and having a blast; hanging out with Tatum and Clara in the van, messing around, when we were going to the Grand Canyon; going to the trampoline park; showing Tatum’s Raven’s Revenge because she laughed. A lot.

Clara – playing ping pong, going to the restaurant last night with Goodnews and Grandoug, and the pink Jeep drive.

Kev – hiking Devil’s Bridge with Finn and listening to him complain about his dry lips; being with Tatum; the first dinner at the hotel on the balcony; spending time with Goodnews and Doug at dinner in Oak Creek Valley.

Heather – seeing Tatum run outside to hug Goodnews; watching the kids play and laugh in the pool at night; dinner at the Mexican restaurant where we pranked Kevin by putting salt and sugar in his water; seeing the kids laughing in the back of the rented minivan; pizza dinner at Megan’s house and having our kids meet each other. Tatum asking me to ask for prayers for her at Church of the Red Rocks. Clara and Tatum holding hands in the pew. Having my mom and children next to me in church. Lowlights: thinking about saying goodbye to Tatum, saying goodbye to Tatum, seeing Finn’s heart break saying goodbye to Tatum. Tatum’s silent tears in the back of Mom’s and Doug’s car.

Fourteen reasons to love Tatum

1. Tatum is brave. She’s doing things with her spirit that grown adults are too scared to do: introspect, reflect, discuss, own, transform.

2. She creates. She has long been known to be super talented at drawing and painting. She painted a gorgeous Georgia O’Keefe-inspired calla lily for Call this week. Her newest preferred art form is jewelry making and she’s making intricate rings now. The kind you’d find in boutique shops.

3. She experiments. With her hair, her nails, her fashion, her spirit. She’s not afraid of change, which reflects a person who’s not afraid of education.

4. She’s funny. There’s no one who can make Finn and Clara laugh harder than Tatum. She can make new friends laugh, parents, uncles, grandparents, new friends, strangers… she just has a knack for it.

5. Tatum can turn those strangers into friends in a flash. When she was little, by the time we left an airport play area, she’d have two new friends and the group playing an organized game. Now, she can walk into a new place and have friends within a few days. This is not easy for most as a young teenager, but she makes it look way. And once you’re a friend, she’s loyal and generous.

6. She’s a good listener. One thing that makes her able to make friends is her ability to pay attention to people around her and just listen to them. That’s a skill. And she wants to hear what others have to say.

7. She’s spunky. This girl channels spirit and fun. There’s like a little bit of elf in her that makes her love getting into some mischief and just bringing some happy into any situation.

8. She’s got will. When she puts her mind to something, Tatum can’t be stopped. When she channels this well, it will serve her very well in life as someone who achieves goals and gets things done.

9. Tatum shows that get-it-done attitude quietly. She just gets her chores and obligations done without a lot of fuss and chatter. That’s a huge help to me as a mom.

10. She’s kind of fearless. She’s the first in line to jump off a cliff, literally. She did that recently with her group in Sedona, as a matter of fact. She’s always been ready to try something new. She wanted to do sleepovers with friends at like 4 years old. She’s ready, bring on the world.

11. Tatum is interesting. People want to be around Tatum because they are fascinated with what she’ll say next. She thinks interesting things, and sometimes they just fall out of her mouth.

12. She bends strongly toward social justice. She wants to see people being treated fairly and with dignity, and she’ll speak up for that. One time last year she created a big chalk art street mural for the Black Lives Matter ✊🏽 movement. I had to ask her to edit the cuss word towards the middle of the mural, but still – I love her concern for the oppressed.

13. She is loving, affectionate and kind. Tatum is quick to say she loves you, she’s quick to give hugs. She brims with affection and love for her family and friends. She has a deep, loving heart. When she opens a present from you, she’s fully focused on it (on you) and the thought behind it. She cares about the relationship through the gift.

14. She’s Tatum.

Emerald Friends When It Rains Gravel

There is something about seeing old friends that is fortifying and grounding like little else can be. It gives continuity and normalcy and perspective, all useful in a year that has been most un-normal. Seeing the Pauls was grounding, normalizing and as always, brought a lot of good laughs

They all seemed so well. Gloriann and of us women commiserated on Covid hair. John and April shared insights on academics, and we collectively threw up our metaphorical hands about the impossibility of balancing parenting and working well. Stan filled us in on what he’s been reading lately. It has something to do with advances in neuroscience but I can’t pretend I understood anything he said about it.

The food was a feast, needless to say. There were two elegant salads, one celebrating grapefruit and feta and goddess dressing (April); a delectable au gratin potato dish (Stan), Good Earth bakery baguette (John), sausages and grilled veggies kabob style AND grilled pineapple (Doug), and not one but two lemon meringue pies (Mom). Not to be biased, but my mother’s lemon meringue pies are incomparable. Even Stan agreed. And I set a mean table, a critical contribution.

Seeing these friends who have been in the center of my heart since I walked the curb the day before second grade started, was a gift. It was like being handed an emerald after a year of sitting under raining gravel.

San Francisco New and Told

It’s good to get out, and San Francisco is a fairly magical place to get out to. It’s especially nice for me to be outside in the fresh air instead of squirreled away in the outside room at Mom’s and Doug’s house, where I had hidden away for the last two days and nights. I had rapid tested positive for Covid, but this morning PCR tested negative. It was positively a relief to be negative.

Hugh took us into the city this afternoon to see a drive-in movie, and we watched Madeline in Paris with the San Francisco Bay glittering to the sides and seagulls swooping in front of the screen. Afterwards, we sat at the base of the Golden Gate Bridge at golden hour.

We then drove down Lombard Street, the crookedest street in the world. Finn and I raced along the side of the Ferry Building in the magical dusk while Clara watched skaters in the park and etched the Marina into her forever mind. I snapped photos of Fisherman’s Wharf and Hugh entertained us with stories.

As we drove past Ristorante Firenze into Chinatown, we felt chastened and reflective about the unconscionable violence towards Asians this week and forever. Especially in the Pacific-facing city, where ghosts of miners and gold panners live and where footprints of Japanese internment camps lay nearby, it’s impossible not to think with sadness of our tragedies.

Luckily as we told family stories of San Francisco, our thoughts lit up like the lights on the Bay Bridge. We laughed remembering how Kevin “dropped” his wedding ring into the Bay to prank Poppop and Brooks right before our wedding. Walking up the gangplank to take a champagne brunch cruise for Robin’s 50th was a bubbly memory, a whale of a good time that has forever warped my kids’ understanding of “brunch.” Getting creeped out at Alcatraz with the Hohenstreiters was a favorite for Finn.

And I had a fleeting memory of dinner at a Chinese restaurant with my grandparents as a child, pondering the jade lions guarding the door and my fortune. I love that my staid, conservative grandfather was progressive enough to work for Chinese colleagues in the 60s.

Clara may not get on the plane back to DC with us in a few weeks, as enchanted as she is by this cool gray city of love, in the words of Gary Kimura. That’s the great thing about travel, it pulls threads of the past into the future all while you’re just trying to enjoy the moment for a moment.