Phil - 5/3/1942 to 5/24/2006

Happy Birthday today Dad.

You'd be pretty excited by all the changes around here. Your granddaughter Froglette has your smile and I think of you whenever we get her to break out into a big, gummy grin. There's still some chance that she has the Alice gene too - her eyes are awfully blue and her hair is coming in much lighter. We go for walks most afternoons when we get home from school and I tell her little stories about home. We saw a black and orange caterpillar a few weeks ago and I got to tell her the story of the caterpillars! I was laughing so hard remembering that story.

I'm also almost done with coursework for my PhD. I promised you I would - and although for a time I wasn't sure I could do it - I'm getting closer and closer. You'd still be a bit puzzled I imagine, but what I'm doing now would be so much easier to explain! And I think it would be clear how much I enjoy what I'm doing.

Froglette and I will be home for a bit in July to see everyone. Except you of course. I miss you all the time. We're all taking care of each other - I think you'd be proud of what me, Mom and Sis have managed. We're a strong trio. And now there are four women who share your name.

I love you.

Remembering childhood

I'm resting on the couch at the moment, enjoying a quiet moment with Froglette and letting my mind wander. I'm struck by the unbidden memories that float to the top.

When I was little, we lived in the country in Idaho for a while. My parents bought a house with some acreage and we farmed alfalfa while my dad was a computer engineer for HP. I have the mostly hazy memories of a young child, but one of my favorites is of the pheasants. They loved to nest in our field, and our dog Tinker would go out and bring home their eggs. Pheasant eggs are beautiful things, large (maybe the size of duck eggs?) and lovely shades of greenish brown. Tinker could bring home the eggs completely unblemished in her mouth - an impressive feat it always seemed. I brought them to kindergarten at least once to share with the teacher. I wonder know what Mrs Heart must have thought of that. Was she appreciative? Was it a strange act?

We have pheasants here in the Middle as well. I saw many of them last spring while driving back and forth to the SLAC I taught at. They were so beautiful with their white ringed necks and shiny green heads. They must like nesting in the corn and soy fields as well.

I wonder what stories and half formed memories Froglette will have of this time in the Middle? What stories we'll tell seven bajillion times until Froglette can repeat them without having experienced them first hand? I'm sure that stories of Miles will figure prominently. I can tell stories of at least 2 cats that were around before my time as if they are my own memories. And I know stories of my parents' dating and college days, building houses, and traveling on the motorcycle. I love how these stories and memories come floating to the surface unbidden, triggered by random thoughts and associations.

Redwoods

One of the last redwood giants.

Picture from http://ngm.nationalgeographic.com/redwoods/gatefold-image

The redwoods are like home to me. I can't explain my connection in words really. We went to visit my grandparents in Trinidad, CA a few times a year, but those visits forged a lifelong, almost visceral connection to the forest and the ocean. According to the city of Trinidad's website, it's the smallest city in California - but it's precious to me and I think my cousins all share in that attachment. Trips to Trinidad allowed us to explore through Grandpa's Forest, to walk down to town on our our, to take hikes on Trinidad Head, to watch the stars at night with no street lights....

Grandma's house was special. There were the little tree frogs that lived in the stump out front, huckleberries growing wild just out the back door, and tons of places to wander.

This month's National Geographic has a beautiful feature story about the redwoods. Go read it.

Wind

As a west coaster through and through, my experience with a range of weather conditions has always been limited. hot, warm, cold, wet dry. Only at the coast did we have weather. And it's memories of weekends and vacations there that come rushing back during days like today. It's not that it's cold today, it's above freezing, it's just so windy.

I remember flying kites with Dad at the beach when I was 14, 15. He'd wrap his arms around me to hold me down as I felt the wind pull the kite and us. We'd have to measure the wind with the little wind gauge to determine which lines to put on the kite (and which kite could handle the wind speed that day). We'd launch kites and fly and it was so great to spend that time together. One of the last things I packed before we moved out here was a kite. My sister and I sat on the floor and tried to decide what to do with them. We sent a special pair to our Coast Friends and my sister and I picked a kite and related equipment each. It's bundled up the closet here, but I should remember it in the spring. It's surely flat enough here to fly it.

Or Dad and I would go fishing out in the ocean or sometimes in the bay. Mom didn't like it when we went in the ocean and we stopped going that far out at some point after the sand started filling the mouth of the bay and it got dangerous. I think some boats capsized even, coming back in against the waves. We'd go early in the morning and spend a lot of time out there. I think back now and wish I had a tape of our conversations out there. I don't remember what we talked about, and I suspect we didn't talk very much. It wasn't really about the talking but the being together and watching the boat rise and fall with the swells, reeling the line in and out, and replacing the bait as the sneaky salmon ate it off our hooks without our noticing. Of course, we caught some too, back in the days when people caught salmon in that bay. We'd catch them and they'd be all slippery and shiny, with their scales shimmering. Of course, then you'd have to bonk them on the head which was never nice but I didn't feel too bad about it, better a quick bonk than slow suffocation was my idea. One time, we had a terribly unsuccessful fishing trip and just gave up. We were outside our normal area and decided to turn our fishing trip into a scenic tour. We drove around and saw different parts of the shore than we normally saw. A whale surfaced oh, 100 yards maybe from us and spewed foul smelling breath. I remember be scared (that thing was probably under us!) and delighted (we saw a whale!) almost simultaneously and I remember Dad looking for the lifejackets, just in case.

I remember our walks to town. It was almost always easier to walk towards town because the wind was at your back. We'd wander into the same 3 stores (with changing names and merchandise). And then we'd head back, against the wind. It was never nice to walk back with the stingy sand and rain against your face.

I remember a crazy walk on the beach with Mom. There's a great photo somewhere. We headed out into an awful storm repleat with ponchos, one orange and one clear. We walked in the rain and the wind with the stormy seas and came home with pockets of sand dollars (we gave those things away to school friends for years). We were soaking wet too as I remember. The fire was always going during the winter at the coast (and the dryer was always running!).

So today, I remember the coast and the wonderful times we had there. There was always a cozy couch to curl up in and read a book (or the special reading nook that Dad made) and a fire and cocoa and my mom and dad and sister. As much as they drove me nuts during my teen years (because I was an annoyingly difficult teen girl more than anything else I'm sure) what I remember now is the time we spent together.

In a few days we'll be home and I cannot wait. I miss them all terribly, although I'm often so busy that I don't have time to notice. It's days like today, when I'm not rushing from place to place and dropping of sheer exhaustion that the memories flood back, triggered by a little wind.