To the Southland

For someone who loves to travel, I've rarely done it over the past year. In fact, I haven't traveled further than Oregon and BC in the last two years. I took my first plane flight in two years to attend my father's wife's memorial in SoCal.

I prepared myself this time. In case Homeland illegally searched my computer again, I reset the background to a suitable prophetic reminder.

Sadly, Homeland didn't even bother opening my computer. At least the plastic bags for my feet came in handy, as we're evidently back to taking off our shoes and walking across an extremely filthy floor again. Good thing terrorism is a greater threat than a possible pandemic...

The trip through Reno was uneventful. I think we crossed over the Great Salt Lake.

My Dad and June Dalton picked me up from the airport, and I then found out that there was some glitches in the car I was planning to inherit. My dad was wanting to give me his wife Susan's old car, but there are problems with the title between Tennessee and California, that will take a month to work out.

The next day was the memorial at Susan's stepdaughter's house, which I'll post about later in it's own column. After the memorial me, Kent, and Trina visited the beach, and discovered a mermaid (my little sister) frolicking in the waves.

That evening was one of the best times we've ever had as a family. For the first time in many years nearly all of my dad's children were together with him- Kent, Sophia, myself, Cody, and Kent's wife, Trina. Only Sonja was missing. Rather than watching TV or playing video games, we decided instead to sit and talk, till rather late at night (and until Cody's obligatory daily date at midnight). It was relaxed, informative, and punctuated by laughter.

Since the car wasn't available, I arranged with my dad for me to take his car, and he would keep Susan's old car for the next month and a half. Which gives him some incentive to get the registration issues worked out.

So I began the long ride North, sustained only by many hours of listening to the old radio dramas of the Six Shooter with James Stewart, that I'd first grown to love listening to late night KNX 1070 in Los Angeles. (They're now available for free download from iTunes.) The I-5 isn't actually that exciting. A couple dust devils, a fancy Mormon Temple outside Portland, going by too fast to shoot- that's about it. I stayed with my mom in Ashland, Oregon, to break up the trip, and have some good crepes for breakfast. 21 driving hours and 230 gas dollars later I arrived back in Seattle, sufficiently exhausted.