Master of the Internet

I have just discovered how to import my blog to my facebook page automatically. Now I won't have to copy and paste every time I write something. Who has time for all that copying and pasting anyway? I mean, I'm a busy guy- what with the naps and endless facebooking and all. I'll write more later when I can spare some time.

Closure

Well, I am back at home after a weekend in California with my brother Blake. Our mom was originally from northern Cali, so we decided to scatter her ashes there after she passed away. The location was chosen by Blake who recalled Mom talking about going to the Santa Cruz boardwalk where her grandmother took her when she was very young. We chartered a 34' yacht to sail us off shore to a beautiful spot a few hundred yards off the coast. The captain and his first mate were very professional and surprisingly thoughtful as they guided us through the process. They even circled the boat to calm the waters just before Blake released the ashes. They gave us as long as we needed to sit and reflect and be in the moment. It was one of the most beautiful and intensely painful moments of my life. I know Blake felt the same way. After a while, the captain rang "eight bells," in the nautical tradition, to signify the changing of the watch, in a sense dismissing Mom from her duties and handing over the business of carrying on to my brother and I. We let the wind guide us back to shore as we watched dolphins, seals, and sea lions swim by as if to say, "Life does go on." It was a perfect way to say goodbye to our Mom.

Back on shore, Blake and I rode the rickety, 80-year-old wooden roller coaster that Mom rode with her grandma so many years ago. It felt so good to laugh out loud again and to think about Mom doing the same in that very place. Finally, we went to the area of land closest to where we scattered Mom's remains and took a moment to breath in the fresh air and listen to the waves crashing on the rocks below. (See video.) That's when I finally felt at peace. I knew that somewhere Mom was watching and giving us a big thumbs-up while saying, as she often told me in life, "Ya done good."


I love you Mom.

The happiest, saddest day of my life.

Where to begin to describing the emotions of January 20? Of course I was moved to tears by the inauguration of Barack Obama. I was inspired by Yo-Yo Ma's performance for the new President. Ma is a Chinese-American came to this country as a child, just as my son did, who along with our first African-American president proved that in America anyone can grow up to be anything they want. I was saddened that my mom could not witness this joyous day. As sick as she was toward the end, she still insisted on going out to vote for her candidate. (Special thanks to Bethany's mom Glee for giving Mom a ride to the polls.) I was thrilled for Blake and Meredith because they were going to the inauguration. I was saddened later to find out they were turned away at the gate with VIP tickets in hand after waiting in line underground with up to 50,000 other extremely disappointed Obama supporters for four hours. I was happy for them again later, when they eventually got to see the First Couple in person at an inaugural ball.

But the exhilaration of the historic day was tempered with the sobering task I faced after watching the inauguration. I needed to clear out the remaining items from my mother's duplex. (Special thanks to Glee and Bethany's niece Jessica for helping us clean the place two days ago.) Upon loading the last item into the van, I buckled the kids into their car seats and went back inside the house for one last look. Then it hit me, as it had my brother just before he returned to his home in Baltimore two weeks ago: This was the last time that I would ever be in my mother's home. Never again will I be able to go to Mom's for a visit. Never again will I be able to drop off the boys to spend some time with "Nonna." Mom's house was always a place where the family could convene no matter where any of us lived. Even with Blake and Meredith living on the east or west coast, we could always count on meeting at Mom's house for Christmas or other occasions throughout the year. The loss of my mom and the loss of that comforting place called her home cannot be replaced. The emptyness of that house left me feeling an emptyness in my soul that hopefully time and the love of my friends and family will fill in.

January 20, 2009 was the happiest, saddest day of my life. But, Janurary 21st is a brand new day...

Motor Memories

In anticipation of getting my truck back this afternoon from the fellow who has been working on it for two and a half months, I started thinking about the various vehicles I have owned since I began driving over 20 years ago. The following is a list, in somewhat of a chronological order, of every car, truck, van, and SUV I can remember owning (not including those bought while I was a car dealer) and the reasons I parted with them.

1. 1979 Chevy Monte Carlo. Electrical system repeatedly failed, driver door stopped opening, got lousy gas mileage. God, I loved that car. Mom said she'd have it sold at the auction she worked at, but later claimed it was stolen. I never saw a penny.

2. 1985 Mazda B2000 pickup. Overheated after head gasket failed, ruining motor. Sold at garage sale for $400.

3. 1989 Pontiac Grand Am. Bethany owned this when we got married. Traded in for new car after heater core failed.

4. 1996 Chevy Corsica. Purchased in 1997, our newest car ever. Head gasket eventually failed. Sold at auction.

5. 1978 Chevy K-1500 Pickup. Needed hundreds of dollars in repairs to pass inspection, so traded it for a newer car.

6. 1991 Pontiac Sunbird convertible. Had prior salvage title and electrical issues. Traded it before it died.

7. 1993 Isuzu Rodeo. Traded it after engine started making worrisome noises.

8. 2001 Dodge Dakota Quad Cab pickup. Bought this when 0% interest first hit the scene. Our first brand new vehicle we ever owned. Traded it for another one the next year.

9. 2002 Dodge Dakota Quad Cab pickup. Took advantage of a huge rebate and traded the '01 in for it. Got a new vehicle for a smaller payment. Loved the truck, but eventually sold it to get out of debt.

10. 1966 Chevy C30 dually pickup. The original tailgatin' truck. Motor blew on the way to dropping it off to a guy in trade for repairs he did on another car for me.

11. 1957 Chevy Bel-Air. Had a knucklehead "paint" it for me. He didn't use any of the parts from my parts car to repair any rust. He just painted over it. I was so disgusted I sold it.

12. 1957 Chevy parts car.

13. 1975 Chevy C30 dually pickup. The second tailgatin' truck. Transmission died. Sold at auction.

14. 1983 Chevy Chevette. One-owner car with only 30,000 miles when I bought it. Blew the head gasket and fried the motor within three months.

15. 1995 Oldsmobile Aurora. Fried tranny.

16. 1996 Honda Odyssey minivan. Fried tranny.

17. 1996 Ford Crown Victoria Police Interceptor. Great car. Sold to niece Jessica for her first car.

18. 1999 Dodge Grand Caravan. Fried tranny within a few months. Replaced tranny and still driving today at 175,000 miles.

19. 1998 Nissan Altima SE. Mom's car. We bought it for her at the auction I worked at. She paid us back. Then we bought it from her and gave her a cheaper, but paid for, Toyota. She hated the Toy, traded it for a Ford ZX2, hated it, sold it, and bought the Altima back from us. When Mom couldn't drive anymore, we paid off the Altima again, and took over ownership. Yep, we've bought the same car three times.

20. 1975 Ford F250 pickup. Three quarter ton. Four wheel drive. The third tailgatin' truck. Thought the tranny was fried, but later found out the rear end blew up. The four wheel drive transfer case was also damaged. The motor was weak anyway, so I had a guy replace all three components at once. If and when I get it back, it will be mechanically like new again. My six coats of paint should hold it together for a few more years before the rust takes over.

Honorable mentions. These are vehicles that my parents let me drive in high school:

1. 1975 Datsun B210. This was Mom's car that she shared with me when I turned 16. After a while it only ran on three of its four cylinders. It tended to smoke, so Grant dubbed it "The Fireball."

2. 1980 Ford Thunderbird. Dad traded his four speed Jeep for this automatic while I was learning to drive. I managed to learn how to make a 6 cylinder car go 100 miles per hour in Hannibal city limits.

That's quite a list. It seems I have owned 20 vehicles in the past 20 years. Hmm. That's an eye opener. One car per year. Wow. I don't know if I am proud or embarrassed by this feat. I should buy another car while I think it over, don't you think?

More Mom Memories

Mom with a belly full of me. Mom recycling me. Mom wheeling me out to the curb with the rest of the trash.