Hot, Flat, and Crowded (Family Reunion Day Two)

It was 102 degrees on Monday, our day at Disney Wild Animal Kingdom. The parked strollers extended into infinity. The best-selling souvenirs were motorized plastic fans hooked to spray bottles. We had a great time, anyway.Wild Animal Kingdom is filled with creatures, real and imagined. Dave's very favorite ride, in all the Disney parks, was "It's a Bug's Life," a 3-D adventure in which we became "honorary insects" and were introduced to bigger than life stinkbugs (who stank), leafcutters (who bared their teeth and roared) and termites and cockroaches whom we could feel dashing out beneath our seats (truly innovative technology). To reach this dark fantasy, we traipsed round and round the Tree of Life, the huge centerpiece of the park, which is carved with hundreds of animals.We thought of Michael on our Himalayan adventure--a roller coaster ride to find the yeti among the far-away snowy peaks. This may be as close as we'll get to his real Nepalese experience!And we weren't adverse to a bit of glitz--the Circle of Life spectacular. The huge hall was divided into four parts. We were the "warthogs," and cheered for our mascot, as well as the great Simba.

We marveled at the creativity of the floats and costumes in the parade. They reminded us of the great Lion King puppets that accompany the Broadway show.

I thought of Jonny and Jenny as Dave and I wandered along the Maharaja Trail, with its faux Indian ruins and real tigers (in contrast to the real ruins and faux tigers I found in India). My very favorite ride was the "safari" past sleepy but real African wildlife, and even a boabab tree which, though made of concrete and paint, made me wistful for Ethiopia.

Of course, I took my book, but was almost too interested in the sights at hand to read it.

St. Augustine to Orlando (Family Reunion Day One)

The Spendlove family gathered in Orlando this week for their biennial reunion. Dave and I flew into town a day early to travel to St. Augustine and search for a little history and culture before the onslaught of theme parks. The Old City offered living history from the Spanish colonial 1770s, since St. Augustine didn't join the United States until the 1820s. We watched one "Spaniard" make cord, which was used to tie on pants, as well as tie up boats. We watched another scribe for the Catholic Church print "La Familia Spendlove" in the medieval calligraphy which was used on Church baptismal records. "Save it for your children," the scribe said, as he handed us the calligraphy--the luckiest of you will get it for Christmas.

We walked down the alleys of the Old City, trying to get into the Spanish mood. We got diverted, though, by signs like the one above (When did Matisse paint anyway--wasn't it in France in the 1910s and 20s?).

We were fascinated by the shells mixed into the pavement in the Old City, and by the tabby walls, made of crushed oyster shells.

St. Augustine also has treasures from the late 1800s. Henry Flagler, pioneer of modern Florida, got rich as a partner of John D. Rockefeller in Standard Oil. He built resorts down the east coast of Florida in St. Augustine, Palm Beach, and Miami. Dave and I toured a museum (above) filled with his collections, from huge carved wooden bears to crystal and porcelain from all over Europe.

We wandered past other landmarks from the Gilded Age, such as the Flagler Presbyterian Church, with its exotic Moorish entrance.

Back in Orlando, the clan gathered Sunday night, on Father's Day, to reminisce about Grandpa Spendlove. Vincent and Janice told about the "to-to-toilets" that Grandpa recommended as the cure for all the overflows in their Houston home. When Grandpa was done with the installation, the suction was so strong that it nearly pulled the users down the drain with their excretions.

Grandpa's war stories, the time he punched a peeping tom through the window and dashed outside after him in his underwear, the time he caught a Russian spy...we told them all. We imagined Grandpa was right there, saying, "Wait a minute! You left out the best parts!"

Slot Machine

Our house in St. George is the perfect base from which to visit the slots of Las Vegas. Dave and I have never cared much for those slots, but we love using our St. George home as a base to visit a different type of slots--the slot canyons of Buckskin Gulch.

The weekend of June 13, Dave and I hiked the Wirepass Trail through Buckskin Gulch with our longtime friends, Bob and Deanne Wilde. Deanne was one of my closest friends in college and introduced me to Dave, whom she used to date. Bob was in ROTC flight training with Dave in the early 1970s and, in fact, was an Air Force pilot for six years before he went to law school. Now that our children are grown up and gone, we have time to get reacquainted.

We all love to hike, so we filled our backpacks with water, trail mix, and a juicy grapefruit (brought by my always-creative friend, Deanne). We passed the stern sign warning of flash floods and other disasters, and headed deeper and deeper into the canyon. It was dry, hot and sunny outside the canyon, but cool and wet inside, with deeper and deeper pools on the canyon floor, the farther we walked. We finally turned back, some four miles in, when we came to a huge pile of boulders, with chest-high pools beyond. If we kept hiking and sleeping overnight in the canyon, in three days we would be in Lee's Ferry, the desolate town where my Grandfather Eyring worked for a summer as a teenager in the 1880s, helping to ferry pioneers and their livestock across the Colorado River.

In this picture, the narrow slot canyon is just a crease in the front of the mountain.

We finished the trip with a gourmet meal at the Rockin' V Cafe in Kanab.

One other very fun experience, the week of June 7-13, was a meeting of the Board of the U of U Hospital Foundation at the Air Med hangar near the SL airport. I heard the director of the Air Med program talk about rescuing injured hikers from remote mountain areas, downed skiiers from the resorts, and high risk pregnant mothers who needed to be life-flighted to the U of U Med Center from all over Wyoming and Montana.

The highlight of the program was trying on the night goggles the Air Med team uses on its night flights to remote areas. The goggles cost $10,000 per pair. They turned everything in the dark closet in which I experimented with them bright green, but clear as day, just like in the movies!

Pine Mountain Weekend

Dave and I spent Saturday afternoon and night at the cabin. It was our first visit since February, when we had a family snowmobiling party.

It has been chilly in SLC this week, with lots of rain. The grass and trees at Pine Mountain were bright green, with beautiful views out over the valley.

So much has happened since we were here last winter. Grandpa's eating paviliion suddenly seems touchingly large and protective--a symbol of his love for all his many descendants and his desire to entertain them in style.The parrot on his perch and the plastic window box decorations were cheerful and welcoming.
Dad and I love the cabin as an island of peace and respite from the world. We watched movies all evening, as I did the ironing, and then we fell asleep as utter silence and blackness enveloped our mountain world. We drove down the canyon Sunday morning past just a few horses lolling in a barnyard and one man walking through Peoa in a white suit, on his way to Church.We cruised downtown SLC on Sunday afternoon, after Church, looking for places to go, people to see. We decided against wandering through SLC's Gay Pride festival at the City and County Building, and missed a San Francisco organizer leading a gay parade up Main Street.
We ate an untraditional Sunday dinner at Indochine--shrimp in a tomato broth flavored with basil and "cinnamon leaf," and chicken/vegetable stir fry. Dad's fortune cookie said it all: "Modify your thinking to handle new situations." Other colorful events this week:

I attended the book signing, at The Kings English, for Lance Allred's "Longshot." The subtitle reads "The adventures of a deaf fundamentalist Mormon kid and his journey to the NBA." Tana Allred, who is Lance's mom and Michael and Jonny's former "manager," gave me a hug and sent best wishes to our family.

I visited Kuoldit Restaurant on Redwood Road, founded by my clients, Alouel Majok and Majok Alem. The building looked like a Hires hamburger cafe painted bright yellow inside and decorated with Sudanese paintings. Alouel, who used to come see me at DJP in a floor length Sudanese dress and elaborate headdress, now wears black pants and a yellow t-shirt that says "Kuoldit" across the front. I met her two sons, who attend SL Community College. Majok, who is one of the Sudanese "lost boys" who were orphaned and chased out of Southern Sudan by the jangaweed, is now a medical technician at Primary Children's Hospital and is working with U.S. Immigration to bring his wife and baby to SLC from Nairobi.

Other family news:

Michael has a new professional camera which takes even better pictures. Check out photos of the Belmont Stakes horse race at mikespendlove.blogspot.com. J&J have just posted a description of their adventures in Amsterdam, Bavaria, and Berlin at jennyandjonny.blogspot.com. Lisa has successfully finished the classroom portion of her nursing refresher course and is now doing an internship in a nursing home, which will be followed by an internship in a hospital. When Dave asked Kirsten how she felt about her Mom going to work, she said, "I'm so proud and excited that my mom is a nurse!" Camille has four little kids' parties to put on before she and Steve drive south to Orlando in two weeks. Jono will play on a blown-up waterslide and tie-dye t-shirts with his friends at his birthday party. Annelise will go with her friends to have their hair done at a beauty college and then have a tea party. Emilie will have pizza and watch a movie with friends at her elementary school graduation party, and Sophia will do crafts as she celebrates her "half-birthday" with friends. I'm not sure which is harder work--the 10 hour shifts of nursing or a year's worth of little kids' parties!

Playing Dress-up

People ask me, "How are you feeling? Do you miss your mom?" The answer is yes. A month after Mom died, I wish I could pick up the phone and hear her say, "Oh, Gretta! I'm OK...I guess" or sit down with her on Sunday evening and hear about the latest book Judy Jardine brought by or why the Democrats are all wrong. Or have her listen to my problems and say, "You are amazing. I can't believe you do so much." She'd say, "What can I do to help?" even if the only answer could be, "Please include my family and me in your prayers."

Whenever I miss Mom, I picture her, in my mind, as a younger person, maybe the one in this picture. I imagine her hurrying off to a Japanese embassy party in Rangoon with my dad, wearing a new dress from her tailor and a ruby ring from her jeweler (yes, Mom once had a favorite personal jeweler, just like I do, but his creations cost only, as Mom put it in 1950s terms, "as much as a new hat"). The essence of Mom was energy and relish for life. She clutched that only tenuously during the last painfully hard years. I am immediately happy again when I think of my mother living with her old optimism, vitality, and excitement.

The 495 items hand-written on Mom's yellow legal pad have been divided now, from the much-coveted hand-carved wooden screen, painting of Mt. Kenya, and carved ivory tusk lamp to "my best cookie sheet," which Camille received. One of my items was Mom's clothes--"Don't give them all to the D.I.--there are some good things."

Indeed, there are some good things. And the best things are the memories and comfort a few of those old clothes bring.

This batik dress was made from fabric Mom bought on a jaunt from Burma to Indonesia in 1957. Kent went along with Mom and Dad. Scott and I were left behind. I remember sobbing, with my little brother, in the shadows of a large garden party hosted by the Olsens, the friends of Mom and Dad with whom we were left. After Scott and I told Mom and Dad how sad we had been, they never left us behind again. This red dress is made from Thai silk, which Mom and Dad stocked up on during their regular trips from remote Rangoon to much more urbane Bangkok. There was a U.S. military base near Bangkok, and Dad also brought back cans of our beloved Chef Boy-ar-dee spaghetti sauce (no pad thai for us in those days).

I'm wearing, here, a Hong Kong lace blouse with a Guatemalan skirt, just the combination Mom would have chosen. It would also have provoked the pronouncement Aunt Catherine made about Mom's entire wardrobe, when she returned to Utah--"Surely, Rose, you're not going to wear those clothes in Salt Lake City!"

Then there's the story of Mom's mink stole. My dad took Mom to one of the many furriers in New York City's garment district, where, of course, he got a wholesale price. The furrier sat Mom in a showroom and brought out one mink stole after another from the back, each of which she pronounced "too expensive." Finally, the furrier growled, "The only thing I have left, lady, is a horse blanket."

And, finally, one thing Mom taught me, in her last years, was the simple comfort of a snuggly sweater, an afghan or throw, and some socklets with plastic skids on the bottom.

An Old Mom and a New Kid

You can always tell when a new kid has been born into a house with a lot of other kids. There is a mob scene. I was at the SLC airport when the Flindt kids flew in from Florida in spring 2005 and saw their baby sister Alyssa for the first time. They nearly overturned the stroller, as they rushed to cuddle and kiss. I was also at the Ebert house in Boston when Miriam arrived home last Sunday. Another mob scene as Emilie, Jono, Annelise, Sophia, and Ezra all reached for the baby at once. There was an overflow of love.

But what about the mom who's been through this again and again and again? Camille arrived home at noon. At 12:05, I caught her with a broom, sweeping the kitchen floor!

Miriam was born on Friday, May 22. I asked Camille, when I arrived on Thursday night, "What is my highest and best use while I'm here? I can scrub floors, sort clothes, anything." "I just want you to make memories," Camille said. "I want you to have fun with the kids." I took her at her word. I had so much fun that I forgot to take pictures of 1) my whale watching trip with Emilie, Jono, and Annelise (we saw 50 ft. humpback whales pull their heads, their tails, their whole bodies out of the water), 2) Annelise's and my foray into the American Girl store for the fanciest and priciest "accessories" (Annelise's word) I've ever seen, short of my own forays into Nordstroms, and 3) the family gorge-athon at The Cheesecake Factory, as Steve and I ordered a buffet of appetizers for the kids--deep fried macaroni and cheese balls, popcorn shrimp, miniature hamburgers with giant-sized fries, all washed down with raspberry lemonade.

I did have the presence of mind to snap pictures of the field trip Sophia, Ezra, and I took on Friday morning to the Children's Discovery Museum in Acton, just down the road from their house. There was a pirate ship and dingy to climb in and out of, but the funnest part was climbing in and out of the life vests!


There was a "safari room" to explore, with monkey and lion suits to try on and a tree house to crawl through and hide in.

There was even a contraption that you stood inside, pulled a rope, and it created a giant bubble around you! Sophia created the bubble; Ezra popped it.And, when we were all through, there were "holiday" donuts, decorated with blue and red sprinkles for Memorial Day.

One last shot.... Sophia is becoming as much a fashion plate as her sister, Annelise. Here she is in a stylish black hat from who-knows-where. Sophia couldn't remember where she'd found it, and nobody else had a clue!