The Days of Wine and Mimi (and Tamales) - Part 2

Christmas in our household is parsed out between families.  Stacy's extended family has always huddled together on Christmas Eve for a traditional tamale party.  I suppose that is a California thing, or at least a Mexican cultural influence.  I'd never heard of tamales being associated with Christmas Eve prior to moving out West.  Though the Harris family party has changed venues from time to time, it always draws a large crowd.  This year it was at Stacy's parents' house up in Agua Dulce and it drew aunts and uncles and cousins and neighbors and friends from far and distant reaches - and, this year of course, Mimi and Grampy from probably the furthest far and distant reach.

The party is an evening affair, but we always set out considerably early so that we can do a bombing run of Burbank and rain down a hail of visits on all of Stacy's elderly buddies.  (I think Stacy has more friends over 60 than under.)  Grandma Bunny (a.k.a GGMa) was too frail to be physically up for the party, so we spent some time visiting with her at her convalescent home.  It had been several years since Mimi and Grampy had seen her.  From there we hit Stacy's old neighborhood and paid a visit to my favorite pair of Stacy's honorary grandparents (she has many), Grandma Helen and Grandpa Dick Walher who've spent the last billion years living in the house next to GGMa and GGPa, across the street from the house Stacy grew up in.

I've long held that as you age you generally become a personality prune - that is, your personality distills and condenses and you become a much more gooey, concentrated version of who you were when you were younger.  If you were witty and playful, you will be that lovable old man with the twinkle in your eye.  (I think of GGPa.)  If you were mean-spirited and conniving in your youth, you will be insufferable in your seniority.  (I decline to cite any examples.)  If you were warm and nurturing and pleasant, you will be a pearl.  Grandma Helen is such a pearl.  She has been a true and sweet friend to Stacy every since she can remember.  Although she has attained the venerable age of 89, her health through out the years has been troublesome, and at times she has been quite ill and afflicted.  But Grandma Helen's mellow and pleasant disposition has never wavered; she will acknowledge when she's not feeling well or having this difficulty or that, but it is never a complaint or a veiled ploy for sympathy.  She is invariably sweet and humble and pleasant, and both Stacy and I have committed ourselves to aging to her example (however contrary that may be, in my case, to my prune theory).

N collecting sugar.

From the Wahler's we headed due north and got to Agua Dulce well before the party with an hour or so before sunset.  We gave Kirk and Lynne preliminary hellos, settled Mimi and Grampy into some comfortable couches, then L and N quickly laid hold Stacy's brother, Uncle Kyle, and dragged him, struggling but helpless, into the car for a quick run over to Vasquez Rocks State Park for a sunset rock climb.  The rocks are so beautiful at twilight and scrambling up the rocks is so much fun that this has become somewhat of a tradition with our immediate clan.  The kids love it, it's a wonderful way to get some fresh air, and it builds strong and healthy marriages.  OK, maybe not so much that last part.  I suppose I should pause to relate how this very adventure the previous year nearly ended in divorce and a nasty custody trial...

[FADE OUT]

[FADE IN: Christmas Eve 2009, Vasquez Rocks State Park]

Everything started out much the same as before (or rather, later).  We got there while the sun was low and immediately hit the rocks.  Stacy, as you may recall, has a decided fear of heights, especially when her children are involved.  She counselled us (me) to keep to the low, flat areas, and under no circumstances attempt to ascend the heights with any of her progeny.  I wanted to be compliant, really I did.  I wanted peace and harmony to reign.  Really I did.  But that call of the wild — it's a nasty and insidious thing.  And it was that daughter she gave me who told me to do it.  I really had no say.  I had no choice and therefore cannot be held culpable.

L, ever fearless, kept climbing higher and higher, bringing me along for the ride.  Soon Mommy, who was on the low-down with N, became uncomfortable and suggested we slowly climb back down.  But L wouldn't hear of it.  (She's so disobedient.)  She kept going higher and higher still and forcing me to go along with, totally against my will, of course.  Stacy's panic attack escalated, but L would not be deterred - ungrateful child, and she kept taking me further and further up the monolith.  Finally, unwilling to be witness to her child's sure demise, Stacy grabbed N and ran off to weep at the ranger station, pausing only to yell something up at me that sounded a lot like "If she falls to her death, you'd better go with her!"  I probably mis-heard her.

With Mommy's conviction no longer reigning down on her, L was even further embolden, and though I pleaded with her mightily, she would not be persuaded and dragged me, crying my protest, to the very pinnacle where we were treated to some pretty amazing vistas - not that I enjoyed them or anything, in my abused, hostage state.

Finally relenting, L directed that we make our way back down the rockside.  Mommy was nowhere to be found, so we got in the van and drove to the range station.  The sun had started it vanishing act, so that is probably why it felt so suddenly and unbearably chilly when I opened the door to let in Stacy and N.

[FADE OUT]

[FADE BACK IN TO PRESENT]

L had evidently learned her lesson from last year, because she stayed reasonable perched and did not make any attempts to put her father in abject danger.  With Uncle Kyle there to act as additional child protective services, Stacy was able to somewhat bypass the heart palpitations and sporadic squawking outbursts of panic.  I think she purposely hid the camera, however, to ensure no temptations for aerial photography, so unfortunately there is no record taken of the 2010 event.

Stacy with new first cousin, once removed, E.

We got back to Kirk and Lynne's and the party was soon on with Harrises and Harris-add-ons arriving by the vanload.  Stacy is very close with all her cousins and was very happy that most of them, amid the myriad aunts and uncles and other assorted relations, were able to be there with their kids:  Julie Galan was there with her daughter G, though pilot/husband Carlos was off somewhere in the wild blue yonder.  Kelly Hurt was there with her fighter pilot husband Steve and their son B and daughter E.  (They seem to like pilots in this family.)  Laura Harris was there with her boyfriend Allan, who is a kid at heart.  Only cousin Carrie Wilson and her husband Keith were missing.  It was a rare and valuable chance for L and N to visit with their second cousins.  And yes, I am one of those sanctimonious people who know precisely the difference between a second cousin and a third cousin twice removed, and I look down my nose at those who don't.  So there!

Alphabet soup:  L, E, B, G and N.

Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid
plotting their next heist

The kids all hit it off immediately.  N was particularly drawn to his cousin B.  (OK, his second cousin.)  The two would follow each other loyally through Kirk and Lynne's sizable estate and whenever they would happen to separate, parents were assaulted with an unending barrage of "Where's N?" or "Where's B?"  N also easily met his quota in the sugar department.  N seems to have a thing for the ladies; he isn't shy about the hugs and kisses.  He identifies his target, goes in quick, and hugs long and deep.  I'm not sure what this bodes for his future.  He will either end up being a very kind, considerate, compassionate young man, or he will end up being brought up on charges at a very early age.

As usual, it was a late night when we finally loaded all the weary children, Grampys, and Mimis into the minivan and made our way home.  Even the promise of Christmas morning couldn't keep folks awake.  Fortunately I was only tasked with carrying L and N to their beds.  The rest were on their own.