Only had an 8 1/2 hour drive yesterday. Straight through the Rockies and into the Utah desert. It was amazing to watch the landscape change as drastically as it did.
----------
I arrived in Salt Lake City in the evening and decided to skip an open mic in order to go to a baseball game with my family. The Salt Lake City Bees were playing the Las Vegas 51s. (?) I sat there and kind of zoned out as my cousin brought me a two large beers. My aunt had started up conversations with all the various groups surrounding us: a scout for the Mets and Angels (he does both?), a couple from Switzerland on a road trip and a few mormon families.
The Swiss couple had not been to a baseball game before and my aunt delighted herself in illuminating all the little details, which only served to confuse them. The scout would chip in occasionally - begrudgingly - to clarify a particular rule or strategy. They were a very amiable couple. This was their second road trip in the U.S., the first was spent in California and Arizona. We were all at a loss when, in the middle of the 8th inning, three people (interns?) in ridiculous costumes (pizza, ice cream and hot dog) started a foot race around the field. The ice cream took the early lead, as the pizza fell behind. But with tortoise-like focus, the hot dog crossed the finish line first. It was a proud day for America.
----------
Later that night I hung out with my cousin, Amy. She's 31 and a riot. She has a lot of manic energy but tempers it with real warmth and joy. We talked quite openly about some of the addictive qualities of our family, and how those tendencies have affected our generation. Her younger brother died a couple years ago (8 years ago, if I care to do the math) of an overdose. It was a mixture of pain medication, since he was recovering from a near-fatal car crash, and alcohol. He died a week short of his 21st birthday.
I've always looked up to this side of my family. Aaron, the aforementioned brother, was a young hero to me and helped guide me along in my interest in Science Fiction and... dinosaurs. We talked about Star Wars a lot and watched Jurassic Park on repeat during the summer. When I saw fireflies in Peoria and Chicago just a few days ago I was immediately reminded of the first time I saw fireflies. It was when my family and I were visiting Aaron and his family on the east coast. My dad pulled over the car, at my mother's insistence, and my brother and sister and I hopped out to get a closer look. My brother started chasing them and my sister cautiously followed. I hung back, just watching them. I think Aaron and Amy were there, too. Along with Donna, my aunt. I felt awkward because of how commonplace the phenomenon seemed to Aaron, yet how bizarre and surreal it seemed to me. If I wasn't so caught up in my head at the time, I would've joined my brother and sister. But I stood on the side of the road: observing.
----------
Aaron's favorite movie was Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. One of my last memories of him is watching that movie at his grandparents house the summer before he died. I had seen it a couple of times before and it had become an obsession of mine. I had no idea Aaron had a similar relationship to it. I convinced my sister to watch it with us. The three of us gathered around a tiny old television and watched it in quiet reverence as our family went in and out, grabbing beer from the fridge or chips from the cupboard. My sister fell asleep half way through. I wonder if she's ever seen the end.
----------
 |
| Myself, My Brother, My Sister |
I must have been 10 or so, but it was my younger brother's birthday. We were all playing in the back yard, in and around the pool. My brother, pale to the point of translucence and wearing only his swim trunks, took a basketball, ran up to my sister (our younger sister) and, with two hands, raised the ball above his head and then threw it straight in her face. Amy says she remembers the my sister flew backwards at the impact. I remember her crying, screaming when my mother came and took her inside. My dad, calm but bubbling over with anger, got the ball and lowered himself on one knee. He beckoned my brother over. Even on one knee, my dad was a foot taller than my brother. My brother approached slowly, not knowing what the punishment would be, but afraid of it nonetheless. My dad grabbed his arm and told him to stand there. He then took the ball and, with one hand balanced it in front of my brother's face. There was a moment when my brother realized what was about to happen and he cringed. Then, WHAM! My dad bounced the ball right into his face.
When Amy was telling me this story last night I was literally rolling on the floor laughing. (or ROFL-ing, for the uninitiated) I was crying and rolling back and forth with my knees in my chest. I remembered it all so clearly. It was like I was watching it in grainy VHS in my head.
----------
Tomorrow: The Final Open Mic.
No comments:
Post a Comment