RMJ 98 May 23

FRIDAY, MAY 23 ● Los Angeles

I guess it was around five o’clock when we went to bed again. I got up at 10:00 and was the last to rise. We had waffles for breakfast; no one ate much.

Mom had been on a starvation diet since Dad’s stroke; we were beginning to worry about her health. We kept suggesting that she eat something, but she wasn’t even drinking her white wine in the afternoon. That was a sure sign of her distress.

I suppose she will eat when she is ready. Hope it is soon.

           

We met with Ed Perrott at the mortuary, and he walked us through the details. The ceremony would be officiated by a Lutheran minister who is my mother’s partner in a folk-dancing club.

We decided that after the minister spoke, we children will all say something, and ask anyone else attendance to speak if they feel the urge. It will be held at 10 a.m. next Wednesday morning. I will fly in from San Francisco on a scheduled off-day, and return to Houston that night.

A long stretch of road work — 19 of 21 days — will come to an end when we finally get home. After that, the schedule gets a lot better for the team.

Thank goodness.

 

Our flight for Denver was scheduled to leave at 6:40. We decided to leave for the airport at 4:00 because of the holiday weekend. It was a good decision; it took an hour and forty-five minutes to make the 25-mile trip.

Our cab driver apologized as he pulled out of the driveway.

“My air-conditioner is out,” he said. “That’s why I have the windows open.”

We didn’t think much of it at the time; it was a warm day, but with the air moving through, it was comfortable.  When we got on the parking lot that is known as the San Diego Freeway, things changed. We crept along at about 5 MPH, and the air was still. It was smog city, all the way.

At least we weren’t nervous. We could almost make our flight if we had to get out and walk.  As it turned out, we could have made it that way. There was an equipment problem, and the flight was delayed two hours.

Because we were hot, we looked for a frozen yogurt concession, but we couldn’t find one. We eventually found a bar, where the Rockets were playing the Jazz on television.  We thought we would only see the first half, but our plane was so late that we got to see the whole game, and they won.

 

Our luck returned to normal when we took off: a baby across the aisle started crying, and the plane lurched through the sky like a knuckleball.

We finally got to Denver at midnight, and our cab driver performed one of the longest soliloquys on record as we made the long journey to downtown Denver. By the time we finally bedded down, it was 1:30, and I had to be at the ballpark at 9:30 in the morning.