In May and June of 2016, Dimitri and I drove the amazing state of California, visiting friends and colleagues and family, and experiencing an addictive mix of love and serendipity. To read this travel journal from the beginning, click here.
Day 10: A Day in the Valley
Family, friends, a wedding
Sunday morning at 7am we are cleaning Lizzie’s house, doing laundry, packing. My cousin Julie’s daughter is getting married at 5pm in the Valley, 50 miles west. Somewhere between cleaning, packing, driving (a big deal in LA, even on a Saturday morning) and arriving at the wedding, we are also eagerly awaiting lunch with our friend Mark Eckhardt.
We met Mark years ago when he was one of Lizzie’s bosses in the only non-production “day job” she’s ever had to take. A former professional drummer who toured with A-list celebrity musicians, Mark left that life many years ago to focus on his true passion – helping others reach their potential. An ordained Zen priest, Mark is now the CEO at Common, a creative accelerator and community for social businesses.
We have only two hours to catch up on three families and three very full lives. Even though I know I’ll see Mark online through our various work paths, I’m sad to leave. I don’t yet realize (but will soon) that a big theme of this trip will be how much I wish I lived closer to the people I love.
We shoot a windy selfie in the parking lot of our hotel, and then Dimitri and I head off to get ready for the wedding. Two hours later, we are at the Spanish Hills Country Club where everyone has complied with the “black tie optional” invitation. Living in Arizona, where jeans are ok for pretty much every occasion except charity galas, this is tremendous fun.
The ceremony is perfect. The bride and groom are adorably in love. My dear cousin Julie, the mother of the bride, is glowing. And then there is the rabbi, a young man who clearly enjoys his work, explaining each part of the ceremony to a largely non-Jewish gathering. He cajoles and kids, sharing real joy with the couple and us, their mishpucha (family).
The best part, though, is spending time with family I never get to see. My dad’s family is small and dispersed. His baby sister, Phyllis – the bride’s 84 year old grandmother – is my last remaining aunt. With both my own parents gone, that matters more and more. I’m happy that my aunt and uncle moved from New York to be near their daughter in LA, because now there is at least a tiny critical mass of family within a day’s drive from Tucson.
For this event, several cousins have also flown in from the east coast. I believe the last time I was with this many members of my family was at a bar mitzvah in 2009.
We dance and catch up, eat and drink, then dance and catch up some more. My face hurts from smiling so much, just feeling what it is to be surrounded by people I’ve known my whole life. The age range between us is close as well. My oldest cousin Janet is there, 3 years older than me, as is my baby cousin Amy, who is in her early 50’s; we are now, all us cousins, around the age our parents were the last time we spent any real time together.
The feelings come in waves, all very real, not all of it happy. My dad died very young over 30 years ago, and he is mentioned often, as is my mom, who passed just 2 years ago. My aunt and uncle are both suffering from arthritis, leaning heavily on canes just to walk down the aisle ahead of their granddaughter. I am reminded throughout the evening that my family has so few people left from that generation.
My cousin Karen is very present as well. She’s been gone over 20 years, a victim of AIDS. Her son, Ben, raised by my aunt and uncle, is a grown man himself now, long and lean and handsome, about to finish medical school. Seeing him is always a joy for me; he and Lizzie used to play together when we would visit them in Queens an eternity ago.
The laughter and dancing are in high gear, when without fanfare or DJ announcement, I notice Ben quietly walking over to his grandmother – my aunt. He takes her by the hand and leads her to the dance floor, leaving her canes at the table. And there, supported only by love and smiles big enough to light up the whole world, my aunt dances with the soon-to-be-doctor she raised from the time he was a boy. I watch, weeping, my heart soaring so full it can find nowhere wide enough to land.
The rest of the night is a blur of food and love and dancing. My cousin Amy drives back to town with us, giving us a full ½ hour to have the kind of conversation that makes me wish, for the millionth time today, that we lived closer.
It takes forever to fall asleep.
Sunday, Day 11, includes packing once again, and then post-wedding brunch before hitting the open road. As I lean over to kiss my aunt goodbye, she holds me close, asking the gods why the people she loves have to be so far away. I promise to see her over Thanksgiving.
And then we’re on our way.
The other wonderful part of staying here is that it is familiar. I know where most everything is. I know that if I look out the kitchen window, I’ll be met by a happy elephant enjoying the sunshine. And importantly, I know she has one of the most comfortable couches I’ve ever slept on. When I visit, I choose the couch over her bed every time. 
Other than that dinner, I see no one but Dimitri all week, except of course the meetings I had already scheduled – a coaching session, an interview for an article I’m working on, a coordinating meeting for the conference I’m keynoting in June. The big work is an 
According to 
A week of work and walking – and eating. And for Dimitri, a week of just “being” with Derek (you can see all the different times they got to be together in the collage that opens this post!).
What that means is that while Erin and Mike are in San Diego celebrating their 10 year anniversary, it is also OUR 10 year anniversary as friends!
After a huge breakfast, we gas up and head north on the freeway to Los Angeles. With Lizzie being away in Japan, her high school best friend, Jessica, has her keys. That alone is awesome, given that 12 years ago, Lizzie left Tucson, lived in NY then finished school in DC before “making movies” led her to LA; and that Jess left Tucson at that same time for Flagstaff, then Kansas for her PhD before “working at the Jet Propulsion Lab” led her to LA. Just as it was in high school, Jess (and now her husband, Nick) and Lizzie live a mile away from each other. The ride from San Diego to LA is a flurry of texts with Jess, intermingled with bumper-to-bumper Sunday traffic.
en beauty of what it means to be a human on this planet.
Families of every nationality, babies and old people, jeans and sneakers and bright magenta saris – all quietly strolling, sitting, whispering and yes, meditating on a sunny Saturday. In the water below, dots of surfers wait for waves. And the gardens themselves display red and yellow, violet and white, pink and orange, all placed with care among 50 shades of green.
Winding our way down from the cliff, we head to brunch at the 
After savoring our food, we’re in the car, heading to one of my favorite places, La Jolla, to do one of my favorite things – visit the sea lions!
And they look so adorable! I do know that when we strip away the anthropomorphized stories we tell ourselves, these beasts are, in fact, big and wild. Local news stories talk about the seals with words like aggressive and nuisance. To the tourist’s eye, though, this is an idyllic place, filled with the sort of wildlife one rarely gets to see close up, across the street from pricey townhomes, pubs and shops.
Troy leads us from the sea lions to the tidepools, a place that demands we slow down and notice. And there is much to notice! Crabs and anemones and brightly colored barnacles. We find a rock where we can dangle our feet and just talk for an hour or so against a backdrop of kids with shovels and pails and nets, exploring the world first hand.
And then it’s dinner time, where we get to do the best thing ever – just sit for 3 hours, the La Jolla breeze around us, eating wonderful Tibetan food, watching people stroll by, and spending 3 delicious hours in conversation with Troy.
The 3 coolers full of food include dinner for the first night on the road, some snacks, and mostly the dozen tamales apiece we are bringing to our three kids, who we will also get to see during this month in their new home state.
First, my daughter calls from Japan – her first call from her 3 week vacation on the other side of the world. She regales us with stories and images to match the amazing stuff she is already posting on Instagram (
We have no idea the extent to which those three unrelated incidents will be themes for this trip. Lizzie’s missives from Japan (not to mention her empty apartment that will serve as our home base for a week). Encounters with people we love, so many of whom we’ve not seen in a very long time (or whom we know online and have never met in person). And huge surprises from Mother Nature. We encounter all three of these as we stop for dinner in Yuma. We have no idea they will be the theme for an entire month of adventures.