Mourning Call

My brother phoned this morning to tell me that my maternal grandmother passed away last night. I've written in this blog about my father's parents, the ones with the farm. But I've never mentioned my mother's parents. Though my paternal grandparents lived hundreds of miles from where I grew up, and my maternal grandparents lived the next town over, we were always much closer in relationship if not in distance to my father's parents.

My mother's father was a sadistic old bastard who used to lock her in a closet when she was little because she was afraid of the dark and he thought it was funny when she screamed. Similiarly, when I was a child, he used to stick out his false teeth in an expression that I can only describe as reminiscent of the alien in the film Alien. I was too young to understand what was happening, but I didn't think teeth were supposed to come out that far. No one told me that his teeth were false or what that meant, and I was horrified by the act. The more I cried, the farther out he would stick them, making faces and laughing the whole time. I did not cry when he died when I was ten. He was a tobacco farmer who smoked two packs a day. He died of emphysema, and I thought it was justice.

And then there was my grandmother. She had been diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia and bipolar disorder when my mother was five. When she wasn't committing literally crazy acts, like trying to burn down the bar my aunt worked in or chasing my grandfather through the house with a butcher knife, she was sitting practically catatonic in the livingroom holding a cigarette that had burned down to little more than a stick of ash, the slightest puff of air threatened to send it tumbling into her lap. Every item of clothing she owned contained numerous cigarette burns.

When I was about seven she had a stroke and became paralyzed on her right side. Her speech became slurred; she lost all movement in her arm; and she could barely move her leg. She could no longer stand or walk without assistance. My grandfather could not take care of her, so he put her in a nursing home where she has remained for over two decades.

After my grandfather died, we used to get my grandmother out for holidays, bring her home for Thanksgiving dinner or to exchange Christmas gifts. She was always eager to leave the nursing home, waiting for us in the lobby when we arrived. But after a couple of hours, she would ask to be taken back. I guess no matter what we think of it, it was home to her.

She had another series of strokes about two years ago, and she's been scarcely cognizant since. She has been in and out of the hospital and hardly knows my mother, aunt, or uncle anymore. I haven't seen her in nearly five years.

Now I am a little sad because I do not feel sad. She was my mother's mother. I carry part of her DNA. She lived a difficult and confused life, and now she is gone. These are the facts. I wish there were more, but wishing cannot make it so.

There and Back Again

So I went for my walk. I decided to ride my bike up to the entrance of the trail on the outskirts of town where the burrowing owls live. It is one of my favorite spots in the city, and I haven't been for a few months.

The path to the trailhead is landscaped with honeysuckle and jasmine, and they were both in full bloom. I reduced my speed and took in slow, deep breaths of the heavenly aroma as I felt myself begin to relax. It is a beautiful day here in the Central Valley. The temperature is in the upper 70s; there is a gentle breeze; and there are some light, fluffy clouds drifting across the bright blue sky, which is very rare for June.

As I walked the trail, I was overwhelmed by a rapid array of shifting emotions. In addition to the resident colony of owls and ground squirrels, I saw several meadow larks, two kestrels, a cottontail bunny, and a jack rabbit. It was a good day for wildlife viewing, and I was excited.

But there were also a number of joggers and exercise walkers out. My first reaction to these more human companions was one of camaraderie and joy. I like to see people enjoying our public spaces and appreciating the great outdoors. There was one particular couple who caught my attention. They were middle aged and sharing a nice brisk stroll. Sometimes Darling Wife and I like to do this, and I felt a sort of connection to this couple. But then they got close enough to me for me to notice that they were carrying on a constant conversation. They walked right by the cutest bunch of fuzzy owl babies, and their heads didn't even move in that direction for a second. I realized that they weren't aware of their surroundings at all. They could have been in the shopping mall just as easily. Then for a moment, I was angry. I wanted to scream, "Why do you voluntarily blinder yourselves this way! PAY ATTENTION!" And just as suddenly, the anger was gone, and I felt sad, sorry for them. Do they even know what they are missing?

As I walked back toward my bicycle, I heard the wind move through the wild oats along the path. "Shhhhhhhh, shhhhhh." I often tease Darling Wife that the wind and the grass whisper secrets to me on these occasions, but the truth is, I've never heard a word. I stopped to listen, and I strained and I strained, but all I heard was "Shhhhhh, shhhhhh, shhhh." No words. Then, I became stiller, more silent. I stopped listening for something, and I just listened.

Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, shhhhh, shhhhhhhhhhhh, shhhhhhhh, shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, shhhhhhhhhhhhh, shhhhhhhhhhhh.....

For the first time in my life, I think I actually heard.

A Walk in the Park

My horoscope in today's paper reads as follows:

CANCER (June 21-July 22): Model your life on Walden Pond. Even a short walk admiring nature in the local park will refresh your spirits. Thoreau once said, "We make ourselves rich by making our wants few."

Sounds nice. I think I'll go now. Cheers!

Write to Me

Today I teach my last class. It will certainly be the last class I will teach here, and it may be the last class I will ever teach. My students frustrate me and push me and generally drive me mad, and part of me will be glad when I have graded my last expository (freshmen) writing paper.

But....

But...............

There Goes the Neighborhood.

Years ago, the university I attend was the farm school of the UC system. That meant it wasn't part of the UC proper; it wasn't even a college or university. It was only one small department, more or less, sort of the training ground for California farmers, and the major food producer for the rest of the UCs. Even though a lot has changed since then, the university's agriculture programs are still top-notch in a variety of fields.

This interesting history has produced an even more interesting, and slightly repugnant, situation. You see, the university's campus is quite large, 5,300 acres, in fact. A considerable portion of this space is taken up by agricultural fields and animal pastures. The university is situated on the southwest corner of town. The city's downtown is directly to the east; its major old-money suburbs are to the north; and the freeway is to the south. So as you might expect, most of the aforementioned fields and pastures extend into the west from the main block of campus. I am sure this was an ideal arrangment when the university was a small farm school. The campus office buildings were conveniently close to the city and housing, and the livestock and pesticides were distant and isolated. But as the university has grown, its needs have grown as well. Consequently, it constructed a large number of dorm buildings, cafeterias, a recreation center, an enormous swimming pool, and a football stadium. Can you guess where these structures went? That's right, on the west side of campus. It was the only available space. But some of the farm structures remained where they were. So now there is this odd combination of dorm buildings and dairy barns. Maybe you can see where I am going.

Since Darling Wife and I first moved here, I have found it somewhat amusing and somewhat distressing that this does not seem to be a problem for anyone. The freshmen are literally kept with the cattle! Now you know my feelings about undergraduates, but seriously, have you ever been near a dairy? I grew up with cows, but they were beef cattle with wide pastures to roam in. Dairy cattle, and dairys, are entirely different animals from those I know. Instead of thirty head of cattle on 70 acres, you have fifty head of cattle in one acre. Some days the stench is absolutely unbearable. I cannot understand why they don't just move the dairy. I, for one, would not want to live and eat next door to the pungent and noxious aroma of bovine neighbors, and there is no way I'd go for a swim or watch a football game with those harmful zephyrs perfuming the air. I can only guess what the visiting teams must think.