My father, for many years, would truck his happy ass up to Mendocino County, CA to visit my sister and her husband at their vast acreage of wilderness and vineyards. I have been there. Once. It is in the middle of fucking nowhere. Something like 14 hours north of San Francisco, or at least it seems like that. Granted, I was there years and years ago, when there was only an A-Frame and an outhouse. From pictures, they seem to have added a closet or two, but no indoor pottie.
Sure, it was tough for my Mom to go there, so she stayed home when Dad would go there in the fall to basically be very cheap labor. And he loves it. So, in these post-marriage-to-Fran years, it has always been...not an issue...but a question how Dad would do this with the Franster.
Ideas were floated about like renting a RV close to the SF airport and driving up there, up the long, winding, dirt, pot hole infested road to their cabin. This way The Fran would have some creature (huh) comforts, like a toilet with blue water, not a hole in the ground. I cannot fathom her walking (yeah, just walking) to the outhouse with all the native wildlife around (snakes and bears). Dad couldn't fathom that either, so a couple years ago, the idea was hatched to ship Fran off to her son's in ATL, Dad would then drop her off at Hartsfield, then get on the next flight to SFO. Turns out that The Fran called him constantly. "Doug, I can't find my lipstick", "Doug, what color should I get my hair done this time?", and at 3:00 am. A FUCKING M. I would consider it a safe bet Dad didn't get much sleep since he is normally a "crack of dawn" kinda guy, and Roxie and Mark are, well, winos. So is Dad, don't get me wrong. My proud heritage is a long line of winos. Drink it loud, drink it proud.
So this year, us kids think, this dude is in bigtime need of a getaway from...from...from HER. So we start peppering conversation about "when ya going to California, Dad?" It was met with some kind of hesitation because seriously, you can't leave her alone to fend for herself, the house would burn down or she would have fallen off a chair and she doesn't have one of those "help me, I have fallen and can't get up" rescue buttons around her neck. She does have her cell phone lassoed around her neck though. Still. She would answer the phoner and listen to how great the Blue Jackets game is, and say what she had to eat 5 days ago and how delicious it was, and then forget to say "uh, I am kinda sorta immobile."
This wasn't going anywhere fast, but we persisted. The only issue was what to do with Fran. Brings to mind "How Do You Solve a Problem Like Maria", but not as Austrian. None of her sons, for which she thanked God for her recovery from falling down the stairs and having to be med-i-vac-ed to Columbus, are capable, willing or would even consider taking care of their Mother. I mean, why would they? They passed her off to my Dad, and she is out of their hair. Not even the "Doctor", who lives in Marion, can be counted on to help out. At all. Sister Suzann, taking one for the team, laid it out. She would stay in Marion with The Fran, but would have to get back up to Ashland every now and then for work and (shocking) her family. I even volunteered that I would fly to Ohio and work from there for a week. I mean, out of all of these siblings, I have the most flexible schedule. Though I worried how this would all look on the Martyr Scale. Me taking care of her? Isn't that funny? "Here is your water and sliced cucumber for the day, Fran, I am going to the gym."
Now all the talk was about well, how long would Dad be in CA? A long weekend? Define "long weekend". People were taking the literal meaning, like Friday through Monday, when it was assumed to be something like 5 days. Otherwise, 6 or 7 days would just be called a week, then why bother calling it a long weekend when it was indeed, a week?
Thinking that we have some headway with the Fran Clan in ATL, Dad starts the search for airfares. Which means I start the search for airfares, and that is cool. Date ranges are being texted back and forth between Colorado and Ohio like USA Soccer on Twitter. What about this? Oh, that is too much of a layover. Is there a red eye that then connects to Columbus through ATL?
I get some flights and some really damn cheap fares considering it is pretty transcontinental, and then the actual flight times come into question. Can The Fran be at the airport by 7:30? Insert laughter here. So I get everything set for Dad, all he has to do is give me the Visa number, then comes this question from California: "Uh, can you check Oakland as opposed to San Francisco? It is easier for me to get there than SFO." Of course, because this is all about you. I will probably be damned to hell for putting that in print, but WTF, it's true. I tell Dad he has to weigh getting into OAK at 7:30 or SFO at 4:30. Dad says 7:30 just kills the day. Like 4:30, and driving through San Francisco at rush hour doesn't. You may not know this, but the main north-south route, US 101, is not a freeway through San Francisco. City streets. Once you are over the Golden Gate, it is freeway, but that is it. Rush hour, dude. Live it, Love it.
As much as I can superimpose my logic on this situation, I am shunned...shunned and people are going to do whatever they want to do. Why ask my opinion if you are not going to say "by God, that is the right thing to do and we are going to do it and laugh at ourselves for thinking anything otherwise.". That's how I roll.
And here it is, the 26th of June and STILL no decision has been made. However, I have had my iPod on all afternoon and haven't heard my phone.
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