I visited my parents last week. They live in Santa Barbara, we live in Huntsville, AL. So I flew because I loathe driving anywhere more than 15 minutes away and if there is any angle in the frequent flyer/airline status game, I play. Hard. Flying was okay, everyone was masked up from terminal to terminal. On the way back, I noticed more people wearing both masks and face shields. I even saw one couple with a mask, face shield and full on Tyvek HAZMAT gear, for the win! There were a few mavericky mavericks who were clearly wearing their masks below their noses to show either ignorance or their rugged individualism, but 99.8 of people put on their big boy/girl pants and enjoyed the smell of their own breath for a few hours.
We had some serious discussions, the standard talks about death, some questions about their early life and wondering about what the hell the future holds, for everyone. There was also lots and lots and lots of laughter. 'Cause that's just how we roll.
If you are fortunate enough to have parents in their 80's, here is the lay of the land for what may await you on a visit when they reach that milestone:
1. Their hearing will probably be diminished. If they are not wearing their hearing aid(s), you have to look at them when you speak and TALK LOUDLY.
2. Their diet will likely have changed. My parents had enough food for breakfast and 2 dinners, but after that, if I didn't want to eat stewed prunes, pitted prunes, bran, high fiber cereal or Greek yoghurt, well then I had to make a trip to Trader Joe's for some food that won't send you trotting to the toilet.
3. You may find artifacts in their house like landlines, large calculators and radios. They have a radio in every room in the house. One in the garage too. They also think they're kind of hip because their answering machines are cordless phones that have caller id. They do have an iPhone and iPad though.
4. You will be their de facto IT representative. Just imagine them speaking into their cordless phone, stating repeatedly, "Representative, representative, representative, re-pre-sen-ta-tive, I WANT TO SPEAK TO A REPRESENTATIVE." That representative will be you, my friend. If I am fortunate enough to make it to my 80's, I'm sure I'll need some young 60 year old to help me with my tech needs too.
The laughter? There was plenty of it. We relived some old memories, like the time my mom bought a box of ice cream sandwiches and within 20 minutes, they were all gone. She came out of the kitchen, completely exasperated, and said, "I JUST bought the large size box, how is it possible that they are all gone so quickly?" Slowly, my two brothers and I and then my dad fessed up to secreting some away in the freezer so we'd have some for later. Food, and particularly treats, went quickly in our house. The kicker was when my mom said, "I see you haven't found the one I hid for myself...yet." And on this trip, my dad and I were sitting out on the grass behind their condo, talking about anything and everything, watching the birds and he tugged on his jeans and said, "You know, I've had these dungarees for about 20 years." I turned my head slowly and said, "Dungarees?" The etymology of dungaree comes from Hindi, dungri in the early 1600's, and later came to be used in the mid to late 1800's as something worn by sailors. But the last time it was used in regular conversation in the U.S. was probably in the 1940's, I'd guess. I said, "They're called jeans these days. I don't think you can walk into a store and say, I'm looking for a new pair of dungarees. Where's the dungaree section?" Later on in the day, he put on another pair of jeans. He said they were my mom's old jeans. I said, "Paradoxically, jeans that look just like that are called...Mom jeans."
I've been coming to Santa Barbara for the last 35+ years regularly and always like to see what's different since my last visit. I’d usually stroll along State Street and downtown or take lovely bike rides down Hollister Avenue on the bike paths to the Marina, it's all so picturesque. There's always something that's still comfortingly the same and always so many things that have changed. But this was not a trip along Santa Barbara memory lane. This time, I only went to Trader Joes for younger people food and took walks out to More Mesa and down to the beach in the early morning during weekdays when I could avoid people. And that's okay.
We spent a fair amount of time on the patio, whiling away the days, sometimes reading quotes and talking about what they meant to us, other times, just reading or talking about their youth - and mine - and the (mostly fortuitous) twists and turns of life we took that helped us land where we are now.
If your parents ask you to come for a visit, you should go, if you can. I did and it was soooo worth it. I hope I can do it again soon.
