From Tiny Homes to Nursing Homes

A couple weekends ago Eric and I went on a road trip and I wrote this post. The time I spent staring at the laptop screen may have been a contributing factor to my car sickness in the final hours of the drive but, as with most things, in retrospect it seems worth it. I finally got the chance to revise and publish it so here you go :)

Let it be known that I didn't want to drive the 12 30 hours to a funeral this weekend. If you work with me, you heard me joke about it in the lunch room. If you live with me, you saw me in a tail spin packing everyone up for a four day trip for all seven people to three different places. If you are married to me, I might have texted you about it multiple times over the course of many days in a series of messages that read something like "I DO NOT WANT TO GO ON THIS TRIP." In my defense, I was nervous about leaving the kids, nervous about being gone from home. You also might have heard me voice my displeasure about having to write sub plans. But, being the self-sacrificing wife that I am (ahem), I begrudgingly went on the trip anyway and consoled myself by remembering that I had 12 hours to complain all the way there. When it started snowing Thursday, I realized I had more like 16 hours to complain, given the treacherous road conditions. Not only do I dislike long road trips, I also have a strong aversion to funerals. Social situations in general are not always fun for me given my propensity for sticking my foot in my mouth, but sad, morose occasions can pose a problem for verbose, outgoing, socially awkward people in general so I was not looking forward to seeing who I might offend or what kind of off-topic story I might accidentally end up telling at the wrong time.

My own neurotic worries aside, Eric had already attended a funeral the weekend before in Oregon for his grandpa so this seems to be a season of funerals in his family. The one in California was for Eric's aunt Karen, a kind woman who I had met a couple times and had passed within seven hours of her father, Eric's grandpa. Eric is a family guy, one of the reasons I snatched him up, but also a reason we keep the roads well worn between Washington and Oregon.Staying in the Copper Rooster Water Tower Inn was on the agenda but it was just a distraction so we would have something to look forward to in the midst of all the driving and the sad reason for the visit to California in the first place. Even though we got there at 2am Saturday morning, when we pulled up we instantly remembered we planned to make this a getaway. A time to relax and have fun and do something we both enjoy, be tourists and stay in fun, funky places we could tell our friends about. It isn't often you get to stay in a water tower built in 1910. Even though we would barely get to sleep there, we peppered our trip with exploring the nooks and crannies of our abode and creating a video to share on Facebook. The water tower was, hands down, the most unique place I've ever stayed. It was cozy and quaint and quite special. When would we ever be in this area without our kids again and get to stay in such a great place? It would be best to enjoy it.

I have only been to a few funerals in my life. The one for Karen was really quite beautiful. She was remembered as a kind and thoughtful woman. A wife and mother that devoted herself to her husband and kids. We are talking DEVOTED. I didn't know her well but when I was around her I remember feeling encouraged by her. Her husband was a mountain climber so she climbed Mount Hood, just once, and said "I'll never do that again but I see why you like it," Her daughter is a runner so she walked her cool down laps with her. The simple stories of a mom finding ways to relate to her kids were touching and seemed worth every minute in the car. Karen's legacy will live on in every person she met and everyone who hears her stories. Someone behind us made the comment "She deserved every kind word in that service.."  I would wager to guess people left there wondering how they could be more like Karen. I know I did. I was so worried about saying or doing the wrong thing at the funeral but once we got there I remembered it was not about me (duh) and I was glad we drove all that way to hear Karen's stories.

When we made the decision to drive to Lodi, California for Karen's funeral I knew I was couldn't drive all that way and not drive four extra hours to see my great  Aunt Evelyn in Fresno. When I was a kid my Aunt Eveyln would drive up with my Grandma Jump every couple summers to visit us and my cousins, from Fresno to Moses Lake. Her visits meant so much to me as a child. Her stories about her life are the only connection I have to my mom's parents and grandparents. I loved hearing her talk about being a drapery saleswoman for Sears. She loves to mention how she still gets a profit sharing check from them (still mentioned it today). She used to say she always took the stairs because if she stopped taking the stairs she wouldn't be able to use the stairs anymore. She wore heels and got her hair done and never stopped living life. I was always fascinated by this Californian woman. As I got older I became even more enamored with her. She seemed to be somewhat of a control freak, as evidenced by her house looking like a page from the Sears catalog, circa 1955, to this day. There is something I found comforting in not being the only control freak in my lineage. It's like I could say, "See, I was born this way, just like Aunt Evelyn, and she and I are both fine."

When we got to the facility today she was sitting up in her wheel chair wearing a purple jump suit and she assured me she had a closet full of clothing to wear. I'm not sure she entirely remembered who I was but here are some things she said that stuck with me:

"This place is nice... I like it here."
"The food here is good... this chicken is really tender today."
"They take care of me here and do things for me I can't do anymore."
"Do things now that you can't do when you get old."
"How old are you?.... oh... you're young!"
"I'm healthy. I've been really lucky. I can't complain."

My Aunt Evelyn is 99 years old. We visited for about 45 minutes and finally her roommate, who was probably in her 70's, asked us to either leave or go to the hallway because we were being loud. I'm not sure why they didn't put my aunt in a room with the guy that was waving at everyone in the hallway because I'm sure she is driving her roommate crazy. She'll be 100 in September and I have every intention of taking the whole family down to see her on or near her birthday. I told her we would send the kids in to her room two by two. Hopefully she is in a new place by then because her room mate might kill us all.

Our final stop was to visit my cousin, Xochitl, who was just a little girl a few years ago it seems but who is now a high school Spanish teacher in Klamath Falls and is adulting all on her own. We got some pizza and drinks and chatted about life and got to see the town she calls home. Seeing the kids you helped raise become your friends is an adventure all it's own and I can't wait to get their with my own kids, though there is a part of me that misses that little girl I used to know, too.

For all my complaining about the hours on the road, this trip has been an eye-opening adventure. Rather than look at the unfortunate parts of the trip I choose to look at the inspiring parts... The legacy of a wife and mother and a life well-lived that will carry on in her loved ones. A fun-filled tiny house adventure with my husband who wants nothing more a life filled with adventures with me even if they are sandwiched between the realities of adulthood and life. Words of wisdom from my 99 year old aunt I will carry with me all of my days. Love from my cousin who I have watched grow her entire life. All of it was worth the 30 hour drive.

I wonder where the most unique nursing homes in America are? I guess someday Eric and I might find out... :)