Getting Out of Town

If you get on the interstate here and head north 350 miles  you'll end up where my mom grew up and where much of her extended family lives and is buried.   This weekend my hilarious twin and I road tripped up north together to attend the 60th wedding anniversary of my dear, sweet aunt and uncle, my mom's sister and brother-in-law.  It was a wonderful, gasping-with-laughter-until-you-nearly-wet-your-pants kind of trip.  (My hilarious twin has an affinity for getting off the interstate at really bad exits.)  We enjoyed two motel nights with wine, movies and walks by the water.  It was such a nice little break.  

This trip was an unexpected time of gathering family history as we sat around my aunt and uncle's table late after the party was over.  What started as storytelling about my aunt and uncle's courtship led to a lot of question asking about family history.  My mom was the youngest by quite some years, and she and my aunt talked and shared. Their older sister died the year after El Professor and I were married, and they wished she was there as she knew more of the family's history.  Still, we asked a lot of questions and learned a lot.   I was floored to learn that my grandmother, who died 6 months after El Professor and I were married and was buried in the dress she wore to our wedding, was one of 12 children.  I knew my paternal grandfather was one of 12, but I never knew this about my grandmother. 

My mom always mentioned that my dear, sweet uncle had been in WWII in the South Pacific and that he never spoke of it.  This was regarded by all of us as something that must be off limits and horrific.  As we spoke of his and my aunt's courtship, the war came up.  Afterall, they were married in 1948.  My mom broached the subject diplomatically with something like, "You are one of the remnants of the Great Generation, who served in World War II."  My uncle lit up as my mom clarified that he had been in the South Pacific.  He told us how, as a 17 year old, he enlisted and was trained and shipped out from San Francisco on a new destroyer.   He then mused that they sailed to Hawaii and the war ended!  He spent 18 months in the South Pacific traveling as far as the Yangtze River as his ship served as a mail boat.  Upon returning to the west coast, the destroyer was decommissioned and scrapped, and my uncle returned home to finish high school.  After telling the story he went to his closet and brought out a framed picture of his ship.    

My mom and my dear, sweet aunt.  My aunt is 80 and is so spunky!  

My hilarious twin and I are posing here with our cousins, the daughters of the aunt who died.

One thing I love about summers up in the family stomping grounds is that you travel far enough north to notice a difference in length of day.  As the evening talk around the table wrapped up my hilarious twin and I headed east of town to the tiny hamlet where our maternal grandparents are buried.  My hilarious twin had not been there since our grandmother's death.  We pulled into the cemetary just after 9 p.m. with plenty of light and time to ponder.  Our grandfather died when we were little girls, but this grandmother was dear to us. 

The drive home was a 'burn drive', done in a day.  Still, we took the time to satisfy one more curiousity.  Our dad grew up in a place we pass through on these journeys north.  None of the family lives there anymore so we gather in other places.  It has been years and years since either of us passed the house our paternal grandparents built and where our dad grew up.  After a few bad exit choices, taking 'West 36th Street' (the right street, but the wrong part of it) all of the way to what turned out to be the sewage treatment plant and the edge of town, and a cell phone call to my parents, we found it!!