![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
outsdrWoke up, showered, and headed to the Waffle House for breakfast. And what an amazing breakfast it was - I love me some Waffle House. Then, Doug had a shift at Beyond Comics. The weren't scheduled to open until noon, but when people saw the lights on, they started trying to come in, so Doug just went ahead and opened. When there weren't customers there, we looked up bad educational movies from our childhood. I did a little shopping, too, picking up a Superman/Batman TPB for Andy. We played a card game for a bit when one of Doug's friends came by - Zombie Fluxx. It was a fun game, where the rules changed as different cards were played. I liked it enough that I picked out my own copy to buy - Martian Fluxx. Doug had never played the martian flavor before, so we played a quick hand of it. And then, it was time to say goodbye and hit the road.
The drive from Frederick to Oakland was as boring as ever, but after living in Wyoming for nearly 10 years, the distance didn't seem so great. I stopped off at the rest stop outside of Frederick and found that their vending machines accepted credit cards, which was an interesting novelty to me. So I bought a cup of coffee. Too bad they didn't come with lids!
The closer I got to Oakland, the more I saw familiar landmarks, places were familiar landmarks should have been, and things that I thought should be familiar but just weren't any more. I also took the backway to the old family farm. I told myself it was because I wanted to see how it looked coming down into the valley ...
Dear center and nestled in among the trees. The family homestead.
... but in reality, I think I was trying to delay what I would face there. Also, I knew this trip would go very fast - they all do. Once I left the time-compression field of Wyoming, everything seems to accelerate for me.
Besides the three giant ugly houses on top of the horizon on the right, very little has changed in the past 35 years.
Got to the house and parked. I went up to the door, only to find it locked. That was unusual, but then I remembered that the french doors I'd passed on the porch were a new addition, and that's probably what was being used now primarily, so I walked back down the porch to them. I was greeted by Rascal, my late mother's dog.
Rascal is probably 14 years old now. He gets around pretty stiffly, and has a cataract in one eye, and may be deaf as well. While my dad was so sick, he couldn't always let Rascal out to take care of business, so Rascal eventually lost his house training and ruined the carpet. He's now banished outside to live on the porch. He seems happy enough, but often when I was working in the kitchen, I could see him staring at me through the french doors and hear him whimpering.
I walked in the house, and dad was lying on the couch waiting for me. I didn't recognize him. All the hair on his head and face was gone. And he was bloated and swollen from the steroids he was being treated with. But the eyes were the same, and when he greeted me, the voice was the same. He cannot walk any more, and a wheelchair was parked by the couch, waiting for him to use it. Sitting up on the couch seemed to take all his strength.
We chatted for a bit about nothing in particular; the trip, the flight, the rental car, etc. I had a hard time looking at this alien with my father's voice.
I saw my brother at the bottom of the hill on a riding mower, so I walked down to say hello to him. Conversation between he and I has always been strained as adults; it's like we both have roles to play and words to say and scripts to never deviate from. Mike took me and introduced me to the vehicle I'd have access to while I was there.
Vroom-vroom.
It seemed a little silly to me to use an electric golf cart to ride around on the grounds I'd walked all over while growing up, but it was fun to drive, as I'd quickly find out - my brother gave me a quick operating lesson in the cart, ending back at my father's house, just as his wife and my nephews arrived.
Cole is five. Kyle is 2. Kyle is about 6 months behind developmentally, and is just starting to talk. He made a beeline to my father's fish tank. "Fish! Bubbles!" he cried. His smile never wavered. Cole shyly hid behind his mother's legs, but I knew what would bring him around, and excused myself to dig through the luggage I'd put in my mother's old bedroom earlier. I returned with a small toy car for Kyle, and a balsa wood glider for Cole.
This broke the ice between he and I immediately, and I was suddenly his new best friend. We went out on the porch, assembled the glider, and spent a lovely 10 minutes tossing it around before he managed to somehow smash it beyond all hopes of repair. By now, luckily, the excitement of having a new friend was greater than the sadness of a broken toy, and he decided that it was time to show me every inch of the farm I had grown up on.
The two boys joined me in the golf cart and my brother and his wife drove down to his house, where they got in a golf-cart like vehicle called a Mule, only it was gas powered. Kyle was overwhelmed with glee at riding in the cart, and when it got bumpy I would protectively put my arm in front of him so he wouldn't bounce out of the seat. As soon as the ride was smooth, however, he'd push my arm away! Once his parents loaded up in the Mule, Kyle decided he wanted to be with his daddy, but Cole insisted on staying with me to "show me the way." My brother has made numerous trails throughout the woods, which made for a nice tour. I'd forgotten how green and lush Maryland is!
Honestly, I felt smothered in chlorophyll.
The windmills are new. I can't say I like them there, but according to my brother, the property owner is getting $15,000 per windmill per year, so I can't blame them!
The wildflowers were blooming as well.
Seriously- now you're just showing off, aren't you?
I got the grand tour with running commentary from Cole that I mostly understood- typical five year old; frequently the words he uses are of his own making. I asked him what he was learning in school, and he told me his ABCs. I asked him if he knew them, and he said yes. I asked him if he could tell them to me, and he shyly said yes, but "not T. I'm not able to say T." Puzzled, I asked him why, pointing out that he had just said it! He looked abashed, and said he couldn't say it, because it was shaped like the cross, and that's where Jesus had died.
Oh, yes - my brother's family is Southern Baptist, for some unfathomable reason.
Now, his family's beliefs are their own, and I wasn't there to undermine them. But what kind of uncle would I be if I didn't inject a little logic and reason into my young nephew's life?
I didn't tell him he was wrong, or that what he had said was wrong. What I did tell him was that shapes and symbols can look the same, but mean different things, and have different meanings, and just because it's used one way doesn't mean it's bad when used a different way. He thoughtfully considered this, and shook his head in agreement.
Clever boy.
Driving up the hill overlooking the farm house, my nephew became agitated and told me to be very careful where I drove, because there was a spot I wasn't supposed to drive over.
My mother's grave.
Hi mom.
At my father's house, my brother and his wife took the mule one way, and Cole and I went back the way we came. I wanted to stop by my mother's grave. This turned out to be more difficult than I expected, emotionally. There truly was a lump in my throat when I walked up to it, and I was only able to whisper hello.
Back in the cart, I asked Cole if he knew who was buried there, as he was only three when she died. He said, "the lady."
Eh, it's a start.
At my brother's house, we loaded in the car to go get some Arby's for dinner, and to stop by and see my grandmother, who was overjoyed to see me.
Back at my brother's house, we ate and then I took off in the golf cart for my father's house. At first, I was just going to walk, but it was awfully fun to drive ...
At dad's house, his girlfriend was home. The rest of the family has become much more accepting of her, since without her, my father would have to be in a nursing home. As it is, she's taking good care of him. Me, I've always believed their relationship was none of my business. I also met her two dogs that now lived in the house. They look like little toys, but are yappy. The male, Bear, likes my father but hates my brother, so they weren't sure how he would take to me, but we became friends quickly.
I was tired from my travels, and even though I was still on a schedule that was two hours behind theirs, I turned in for the night.
The drive from Frederick to Oakland was as boring as ever, but after living in Wyoming for nearly 10 years, the distance didn't seem so great. I stopped off at the rest stop outside of Frederick and found that their vending machines accepted credit cards, which was an interesting novelty to me. So I bought a cup of coffee. Too bad they didn't come with lids!
The closer I got to Oakland, the more I saw familiar landmarks, places were familiar landmarks should have been, and things that I thought should be familiar but just weren't any more. I also took the backway to the old family farm. I told myself it was because I wanted to see how it looked coming down into the valley ...
Dear center and nestled in among the trees. The family homestead.
... but in reality, I think I was trying to delay what I would face there. Also, I knew this trip would go very fast - they all do. Once I left the time-compression field of Wyoming, everything seems to accelerate for me.
Besides the three giant ugly houses on top of the horizon on the right, very little has changed in the past 35 years.
Got to the house and parked. I went up to the door, only to find it locked. That was unusual, but then I remembered that the french doors I'd passed on the porch were a new addition, and that's probably what was being used now primarily, so I walked back down the porch to them. I was greeted by Rascal, my late mother's dog.
Rascal is probably 14 years old now. He gets around pretty stiffly, and has a cataract in one eye, and may be deaf as well. While my dad was so sick, he couldn't always let Rascal out to take care of business, so Rascal eventually lost his house training and ruined the carpet. He's now banished outside to live on the porch. He seems happy enough, but often when I was working in the kitchen, I could see him staring at me through the french doors and hear him whimpering.
I walked in the house, and dad was lying on the couch waiting for me. I didn't recognize him. All the hair on his head and face was gone. And he was bloated and swollen from the steroids he was being treated with. But the eyes were the same, and when he greeted me, the voice was the same. He cannot walk any more, and a wheelchair was parked by the couch, waiting for him to use it. Sitting up on the couch seemed to take all his strength.
We chatted for a bit about nothing in particular; the trip, the flight, the rental car, etc. I had a hard time looking at this alien with my father's voice.
I saw my brother at the bottom of the hill on a riding mower, so I walked down to say hello to him. Conversation between he and I has always been strained as adults; it's like we both have roles to play and words to say and scripts to never deviate from. Mike took me and introduced me to the vehicle I'd have access to while I was there.
Vroom-vroom.
It seemed a little silly to me to use an electric golf cart to ride around on the grounds I'd walked all over while growing up, but it was fun to drive, as I'd quickly find out - my brother gave me a quick operating lesson in the cart, ending back at my father's house, just as his wife and my nephews arrived.
Cole is five. Kyle is 2. Kyle is about 6 months behind developmentally, and is just starting to talk. He made a beeline to my father's fish tank. "Fish! Bubbles!" he cried. His smile never wavered. Cole shyly hid behind his mother's legs, but I knew what would bring him around, and excused myself to dig through the luggage I'd put in my mother's old bedroom earlier. I returned with a small toy car for Kyle, and a balsa wood glider for Cole.
This broke the ice between he and I immediately, and I was suddenly his new best friend. We went out on the porch, assembled the glider, and spent a lovely 10 minutes tossing it around before he managed to somehow smash it beyond all hopes of repair. By now, luckily, the excitement of having a new friend was greater than the sadness of a broken toy, and he decided that it was time to show me every inch of the farm I had grown up on.
The two boys joined me in the golf cart and my brother and his wife drove down to his house, where they got in a golf-cart like vehicle called a Mule, only it was gas powered. Kyle was overwhelmed with glee at riding in the cart, and when it got bumpy I would protectively put my arm in front of him so he wouldn't bounce out of the seat. As soon as the ride was smooth, however, he'd push my arm away! Once his parents loaded up in the Mule, Kyle decided he wanted to be with his daddy, but Cole insisted on staying with me to "show me the way." My brother has made numerous trails throughout the woods, which made for a nice tour. I'd forgotten how green and lush Maryland is!
Honestly, I felt smothered in chlorophyll.
The windmills are new. I can't say I like them there, but according to my brother, the property owner is getting $15,000 per windmill per year, so I can't blame them!
The wildflowers were blooming as well.
Seriously- now you're just showing off, aren't you?
I got the grand tour with running commentary from Cole that I mostly understood- typical five year old; frequently the words he uses are of his own making. I asked him what he was learning in school, and he told me his ABCs. I asked him if he knew them, and he said yes. I asked him if he could tell them to me, and he shyly said yes, but "not T. I'm not able to say T." Puzzled, I asked him why, pointing out that he had just said it! He looked abashed, and said he couldn't say it, because it was shaped like the cross, and that's where Jesus had died.
Oh, yes - my brother's family is Southern Baptist, for some unfathomable reason.
Now, his family's beliefs are their own, and I wasn't there to undermine them. But what kind of uncle would I be if I didn't inject a little logic and reason into my young nephew's life?
I didn't tell him he was wrong, or that what he had said was wrong. What I did tell him was that shapes and symbols can look the same, but mean different things, and have different meanings, and just because it's used one way doesn't mean it's bad when used a different way. He thoughtfully considered this, and shook his head in agreement.
Clever boy.
Driving up the hill overlooking the farm house, my nephew became agitated and told me to be very careful where I drove, because there was a spot I wasn't supposed to drive over.
My mother's grave.
Hi mom.
At my father's house, my brother and his wife took the mule one way, and Cole and I went back the way we came. I wanted to stop by my mother's grave. This turned out to be more difficult than I expected, emotionally. There truly was a lump in my throat when I walked up to it, and I was only able to whisper hello.
Back in the cart, I asked Cole if he knew who was buried there, as he was only three when she died. He said, "the lady."
Eh, it's a start.
At my brother's house, we loaded in the car to go get some Arby's for dinner, and to stop by and see my grandmother, who was overjoyed to see me.
Back at my brother's house, we ate and then I took off in the golf cart for my father's house. At first, I was just going to walk, but it was awfully fun to drive ...
At dad's house, his girlfriend was home. The rest of the family has become much more accepting of her, since without her, my father would have to be in a nursing home. As it is, she's taking good care of him. Me, I've always believed their relationship was none of my business. I also met her two dogs that now lived in the house. They look like little toys, but are yappy. The male, Bear, likes my father but hates my brother, so they weren't sure how he would take to me, but we became friends quickly.
I was tired from my travels, and even though I was still on a schedule that was two hours behind theirs, I turned in for the night.
