Our Highchair

Just in case no one has caught on just how sentimental my father was, I thought I'd share this:

This, my friends, is the highchair that all four of us kids, myself (Ona), Rhea, Krista and Eric all used as babies. None of us had used it in probably over 20 years at the time of his death, but that didn't matter. It was among so many other things of his we found when we were going through everything. It was one of the things none of us could bare to get rid of although we were also unsure what to do with it. It is now going to live at Krista's for the time being. Some of my earliest memories involve this highchair, as well as some of my most amusing ones. I had one of my best gloating biggest sister moments when Eric was a little guy, but talking, and was mad that one of us was sitting in "his" highchair which then prompted the line of girls to say, "but it was mine first!" with me ultimately winning since I am the oldest. I can still remember (and laugh at!) the look on all their faces, but most especially Eric's. He was absolutely aghast. I can only imagine, but can definitely understand, the memories Dad must have associated with it, and why he held on to it.

Thats right, that is me! evidence I was the first in the chair!

The Hauling Trip

It's been a busy four months since I last posted a real entry. Working full time and going to school almost full time has taken its toll on me. Since Dad has died being so busy has often been a blessing for me - I am always occupied, overwhelmed, running to the next task. Having a new job that is a good but challenging one along with the intellectual stimulation at school and all the school work that's required and I am just completely exhausted at the end of the day. This blog has been on my mind though, and there is plenty to say - I just need the time and energy to get it out.

In June I did a big trip to deal with the estate. I finished my semester at school on the 14th and two days later I was on a plane to Eastern Oregon for a week long trip to move the remaining estate items to a location in California that would be easier for me to handle and coordinate. One of my life long friends was able to come with me for most of the trip. We flew up on a Wednesday, spent one whole day loading a 16 foot trailer and then hit the road, first going west to Eugene and then heading down to Northern California. I got next to no sleep the entire time, my insomnia rearing its unfortunate head. We stayed with family and friends along the way and attended a BBQ in Dad's honor. On Sunday the 20th my friend Jacob and I had the bulk of the driving to do in a single day. He had to fly back to LA for work on Monday so we'd arranged to drop him off in Eureka and I'd drive the remainder of the trip to Fort Bragg by myself which in the planning stages didn't sound so bad - its normally only a 3 hour drive from there.

I'm not sure how many of you have driven a large moving vehicle? But a 16 foot truck is pretty damn big and pretty damn hard to maneuver - when empty. Add in a mostly full trailer and it is dreadful. It wobbled and careened the entire trip and I had been white knuckling it the entire week already. We got stuck more than once in driveways. I normally avoid rest stops because they are often dirty and spooky but they ended up being the only place I felt save parking so I could avoid going in reverse which was always an unpredictable and dangerous experience. I knew going up hills would not be fun, but it was painful. SOOOOO SLOW the entire time. We only over heated once, just outside of Crescent City - but to avoid overheating again I had to basically go 25 or less up every hill from there till Fort Bragg.

It took forever. What should have been a 10 hr drive max turned into well over 14 hours. I ended up going over Willits Road at twilight. I had hooked up my ipod and was blasting music as I swerved around corners trying not to both drive off the road nor make myself car sick. About 10 minutes into it the significance of the trip hit me: I was alone driving at night (I have terrible night vision and go to extremes to avoid having to drive at night whenever possible) on my least favorite road in the history of roads.... on fathers day, with my fathers ashes tucked behind my seat and everything that remained of his life packed and securely retrained in the trailer behind me. I don't think I had been so sad or inconsolable than that first night after learning of his death.

As tough as the trip was, I was relieved to finally have my fathers things neatly packed into my sisters garage rather than in a dark dirty old house a 1,000 miles away. Where we can go through everything more carefully and slowly and comfortably in our own time. I'm going up there for a whole week in August to spend time with Rhea & Josslyn and so most likely there will much to relate after. Stay tuned.

Stainless brings to us...‏

the best liquid I've ever tasted:
Here are eight soldiers, one from each of the Islay distilleries. Far left in line—and left in detail—is THE ONE I told you about that Stainless tracked down, and for which he lashed out truly serious quid. '57.6% alcohol; distilled January 1983, and bottled September 1995'. {Port Ellen Distillery quit making whisky in 1984} We drank most of it on a 16 December, Beethoven's birthday anniversary, late in the last century. -brad