Marriage, Kids, Old Age and Death

A well-worn metaphor for the purpose of each generation's taking turns at slow deterioration, return to infancy and eventual demise was used to explain something we all experience if we live long enough...royalty. Yes, "the balance of power cannot be held by one generation indefinitely, it must be passed down..." Blah, blah, blah.

My situation is different than many, I was parented by older generations, specifically my grandmother and great-grandparents. These were people who squeezed every drop from life, (I know it's a cliche, and get your minds out of the gutter), doing lots of cool shit.

They were expert at road trips. My great-grandmother loaded their Mercury Marquis Brougham, (ride-engineered no less, it said so on the dash), to the hilt with deviled eggs and more Kleenex than the population of Bailey County, Texas could use in a year. I know that's what it was, they had four of them in a row. We'd always try to shove off before the car was too full for its occupants.

I can still hear the pleasant "bong, bong" of the seat belt nag buzzer noise thingy as we braved the car-heat, shoving off for loving-god-who-makes-you-sick-and-helpless knows where. There were many road trips from Pike's Peak to D.C. and everywhere in between.

Grandmother (a generation down from the previous) bought a proper motor home which meant more people and more stuff. And it was self-contained. I always loved the reverse "nee-ert, nee-ert" whine of the Mopar gear-reduction starter. It had its idiosyncrasies, the butane refrigerator that would "freeze up," requiring a replacement. A couple times, "someone" forgot to shut it off , one of those may have been my fault. What's Butane? Google it. Grandmother would often cook proper breakfast and we'd eat it on the road. For the record, she was a terrible cook.

The elder generation of my family was very "I Love Lucy" (or Golden Girls if you prefer," clubs, events, all that shit. There was never a dull moment. Or we were shopping for something, always shopping for something. Whatever we did, there were always a group of people involved. I don't ever recall a week going by without us "doing something."

I watched my great-grandmother, a powerhouse of a woman, shrivel up and die in a fetal position, fed by a tube. This process took 5 or 6 years. She was queen of road trips, events, organization...whatever it took. Some people were good at getting people together, her and my grandfather were those people. They ended up living longer than most of their friends. Many of our trips were to visit them in Texas and once there, we'd embark on more adventures.

My grandmother and our next-door neighbor, Irma were like Lucy and Ethel. My first memory is standing in Irma's dining room during a birthday party. Her son used to take me to the jacuzzi with his friends and a case of Meister Brau and do the 'ol "oops, I stuck my foot in your crotch" thing. He got married and his latino friend with the muscles and sizzling looks disappeared. Oh well.

Through the process of grandmother's recent mastectomy, I landed in a room with Irma, my mother, my uncle and of course grandmother. We hadn't all been in the same room since 1988, my uncle's wedding. We spoke of good times past, combining our memories. I visited with Irma for a couple hours afterwards, chatting in her living room as I looked at my family home, watching a stranger move in. The house is full of college kids now, the guy likely moving into my room. Irma and I talked of more times past, trips, events, triumphs, heartaches, embarrassments, humor...all of it.

Irma is the last neighbor left of the original families. They all bought the homes new in 1963. $64,000 was a princely sum back then but to live in south Redondo Beach an easy stroll to the beach...worth it to them. Irma was 32, my grandmother 37 when they moved onto the 1000 block of Camino Real. Grandmother sold the house in '99 when I was living in Las Vegas and moved up to Palos Verdes.

There will be no more trips or any other adventures that aren't within an easy shuffle of a handicapped parking spot. Alzheimer's is taking grandmother's mind as we make sure her diapers are pulled up all the way. Irma is still pretty sharp but physically limited, recalling grandmother joining the "Mile High Club" with her married boyfriend in his Cessna 152. He took me up in that thing, another story...grandmother and her tight clothes and little spike heels.

It was fun reliving old times but also heartbreaking knowing we'd never do any of those things again. Grandmother is forgetting the places we used to stop, Cline's Corners for cheap gas, grab a pecan roll at Stucky's, a motel in Gallup if we had to...

At press time, I don't feel equipped to handle this. I know, it's my turn to make road trips and be all "I Love Lucy," I just wish I knew how. I know, that's the point. The balance of power has been passed to us...because time has made the elder generation grow tired and wrinkled and sick.