Travels with Remo - Part 4

Sunday, July 4, 2021

We are leaving now.  Early in the morning, well, not too early.  We were able to get on the road just before 8 am.  Traveling on a holiday is never a great idea, but my thought is that if people went away for the weekend, they are already at their destination, and, I am going in the opposite direction of where many may go to attend the festivities.  It was time to leave.  Mom is up and around with a walking boot and able to move on her own.  Heck, she was doing exercises the morning after surgery, so my guess is that she feels fine.  I should not say guess.  I have been by her side for the entire week and she is recovering well and the surgery was a success so far.  We won’t be fully sure until she gets all of the stitches and pins out of her foot sometime later this month.  It is one of those things where this only so much I can do, and I need to get back and get some work done prior to the start of school. 

My intuition was correct, and the roads are clear this early on a Sunday morning.  The benefit of having dueling lazy opportunities this morning, Sunday and the holiday, keep traffic light.  I decide to go home via the 405, through my hometown, the San Fernando Valley.  It actually is quicker but a lot more freeway transitions to get through the valley, the inland empire and the high desert.  This drives bring back a lot of memories.  I went back and forth across this interstate many times in my formative years.  Even when it took over and hour to go 15 miles.  I think about the fun I had as pass by Century City and the movies I watched in Westwood at the old theater houses.  I accelerate pass the salute to capitalism on the west side of the freeway, also known as the Getty Museum.  It is obnoxiously grandiose, but it is a beauty to behold and wander around for an afternoon.  I get misty eyed.  Many great memories capture me as I pass by it.  I miss the valley, I miss that time of my life, not that I regret I have moved on, but how much of what I did seemed so much simpler; and it was simpler because I was unaware of the effect of my actions.  When you are young, it’s not about the result of the consequences, but the lasting impression it makes upon your soul and your perspective of what is valued. 

Remo has popped his head from the backseat and is resting it on my shoulder.  He is sleeping and his nose is dripping all over my arm.  But it is sweet.  He loves his daddy.  He just wants to be next to me.  I gather that he is aware of the thoughts that are going through my head and the change in my aura.  He wants to comfort, and he does that so well.  We have a long drive, and we console each other well as we make our way back to Las Vegas in an attempt to beat the heat and enjoy the second half of the 4^th of July.  It is my favorite holiday, I should say it is my favorite celebration.  It reminds me of the barbecues my dad held when we would swim and eat all day, and we could see the fireworks at Pierce College from his backyard.  Fun, sun, dinner and a show all wrapped up in one day.  There is nothing like it because I my perspective, it is the total relax holiday, at least it should be.  There should be zero pressure on the 4^th of July because what you do should be up to you and your people.  It is an adventure to each’s own desires and interests.

First serious interchange is coming up as I need to move onto the 101 Eastbound.  Now we are moving through my high school years, as we pass by Sherman Oaks and my alma mater.  A few more cars enter the fray, but it is still moving smoothly as we pass Woodman Avenue, and you can see the façade of the main office from the freeway.  High School at Sherman Oaks Notre Dame was fun.  It was a privilege to attend there, and I thank my dad for sacrificing what he did to pay for my tuition.  It is one of those things I learned about later, all he really did let go of to allow me to go to the high school I wanted to attend.  So many fun memories in the Valley.  Grateful for where I came, what I did and the person it has made me.  The experiences we all have are necessary and vital for growth as our spirit is on a journey for enlightenment.  This passage through time as we head back home reminds me of all the growth I have made.  This corridor, the 101 to the 134 to the 210, is very nostalgic.  My aunt and uncle lived in Studio City off of Laurel Canyon; I used to go on auditions in Hollywood as a child, so both canyons were used quite often; I spent countless evenings on Ventura Blvd; as I transition into Burbank, St. Paul’s Cathedral can be seen off to the right (I remember many Christmas Eve Masses there solo); we move through Burbank and I remember my good friend Jason and our adventures on the daily during my junior and senior years of high school; and we then pass Forest Lawn Cemetery, where dad is buried (I decided to not go see him today, I will over Thanksgiving); and then we merge onto the 210 and I remember my time working at the movie theater in La Canada with my best friend Joey, and playing baseball at Pasadena City College, and all the other mischief that lied therein.  I do love LA, and all its surrounding intrigue and unique spots that transcend time and are separate from each other.  All of these places serve as different points of purpose and generosity in my life.  They all had an intricate effect to shape and mold me, through both the good and the bad. 

Even on a Sunday morning you can see the haze and fog just fill the atmosphere in and just outside of LA.  The June gloom has stayed a little past its welcome and the blazing sun is attempting to break through and grace the valley and surrounding deserts with its furnace-style presence.  It was hard to tell, but apparently most of the southwest were suffering through a heat wave for the week I was gone.  When you are suffering with 70 degree temps by the ocean, you tend not to notice, but as the clock is about to move closer to 10 AM, I can feel the heat attempt to radiate through the cars windows and make this second half of the trip a little to uncomfortable. 

The road conditions move quickly through LA, the Inland Empire, and the High Desert.  All the way up thru Barstow, before the lanes move from three in either directions to two, and we move to a grinding halt for a bit as I readjust the speedometer, but at least I did not have to make an evasive action.  I hit the brakes rather abruptly for a short moment and woke the boy from his slumber.  He was shaken and decided to pop up to observe the situation, but after a few moments of whining, he did three 360s in the backseat and re-arranged himself again, but was alert for a while as the climb began around the backside of the Mojave Preserve.  This is the point when I always question if I should just go through the preserve itself, taking the 10 all the way and cutting through the Morongo Basin and 29 Palms?  It is about 30 minutes longer, but we would keep moving, and there are pockets on the 15, usually between long stretches without rest stops, when we slow down to 30 mph. 

This is the stretch of the road when there is and is not much to see.  A paradox I understand.  The vast desert is open to many secrets and mysteries.  The more one looks, the deeper they can go.  The desert itself is a perfect analogy to self-exploration.  On the surface, many believe what is seen, is all there is.  But those of us whom have lived in the desert, and suffered through diversity of its ever-changing and unpredictable climate realize that there is layers upon layers of discovery.  Just as with the self, one can look in the mirror and not appreciate or welcome vulnerability and communication.  Yet, upon further inspection, it can be perceived that we are not as surface as we appear.  We all have hidden innovations that can be shared with the world.  There are mystical places within ourselves that we may not know exist until we can shed the ego and let others in. 

The rocks and the desert scenery fly by, but small things pop in and out of the frame that may at one point went unnoticed.  Signs on one side of the road, deserted homes or business on the other.  At a place in time, they all had a purpose and were thriving pieces within the lives of many, and now, they are relics that few stop to recognize.  So many specific and complex objects are left in the desert.  Just as within ourselves.  We hide our truths, the complexity and vivacity in which we truly see and want to share with the world.  The mask we have been instructed to wear chips away at our authentic self, more and more each and every day if we allow it. 

One road trip down, and two more to go with the boy.  He keeps things honest.  He keeps things simple.  He is pure love and loyalty.  He will never leave me, and for that, I am thankful.