As the lead to my last blog stated, my two sisters-in-law, both from Nashville (where all three of the Anderson girls were born and raised) visited us. They decided to fly into San Jose because 1) Southwest Airlines doesn’t fly into Fresno and 2) they were flying on Thursday and that’s the closest airport to Monterey, where younger son, Alex, was playing Friday and Saturday.
Since I’ve flown hundreds of times and had to coordinate schedules, I took matters into my hands and set our itinerary. Unfortunately, while we were making the two-and-a-half (or so) hour drive from Fresno to San Jose, Jane received a text from her older sister, Peggy. She and sister Susan (the “baby” of the three) had landed in Phoenix. Great flight. However, it seemed as though there was a minor problem, something about needing to fix a part. Obviously, a part that helped the plane fly. Safely.
The delay was going to be an hour. Or so. As it turned out, it was more like “or so.” Once Jane and I got to San Jose, we found a nice hotel with clean rest rooms and a comfortable lobby in which we could read, relax and plug in our cell phones. For the next four hours!
Peggy sent a text that the airlines had given up on fixing the part and were trying to locate another one, allegedly, a new and unbroken one. Another hour passed and a decision was made that it would be easier to find a new plane than it would a new part. Change of planes meant change of gate but, finally, Peggy and Susan, and the new plane, landed.
We left the hotel and pulled into short term parking. When we entered baggage claim, there they were (one thing about the San Jose airport is that it is infinitely easier to locate passengers than its San Francisco counterpart is). There were hugs around, then a little anxiety waiting for the bags (changing planes occasionally causes bags to wind up elsewhere). Since we were leaving for Monterey as soon as those bags were in the car (no snide remarks, please, I get along swimmingly with my only two sisters-in-law), it was a major relief to see the luggage appear.
Off we went for Monterey and what turned out to be a later dinner than we’d planned. In fact, since Jane likes to get to the games early, i.e. about halftime of the women’s game (which precedes every conference tilt), we generally don’t eat dinner until 10:00pm. This is no problem for me as my body clock runs on East Asian time but, for a couple of ladies who live on Central time (and whose bodies aren’t used to eating at midnight), there was quite an adjustment. No complaints by anyone, however, we were just glad to check into the hotel in Monterey which was to be our headquarters for three nights.
Alex’s guys split a pair of games (losing in overtime), yet that was secondary to his aunts’ delight in seeing him play, checking out the campus, seeing his apartment, meeting his girlfriend and having dinner with a delightful couple Jane and I often eat with following home games. Naturally, there were brief tours of Carmel, Cannery Row and downtown Monterey before departing for Fresno on Sunday.
There was plenty of room at our house so everybody could do whatever it was that pleased them, meaning the ladies got to talk (a lot), shop (a little) and eat (well) – the last part with me. Meanwhile I got to sleep in (my favorite retirement luxury), watch TV, ride the exercise bike and practice my yoga (Jane and Susan even made it to a couple of classes at COIL Yoga, one each taught by Katie and Diane, two of the greatest yoginis this side of India).
Friday we were ready to leave the ‘No (for good as far as they were concerned – for this trip anyway), as Cal State Monterey Bay’s next two games were in Los Angeles. On Friday night a couple of my best friends from our college days (which, since that part of my life began in 1966, means we’ve known each other nearly 50 years) came over to support the son they never had (they have two brilliant daughters, each with a couple sons of their own). Words alone can’t express how wonderful it is getting together with friends you’ve known your entire adult life. Our guys won in OT and Alex crept closer to 1,000 points for his career.
Saturday night, older son, Andy, and a couple of his UC-Irvine fraternity brothers (soon-to-be-lawyers) made an appearance. Andy sells software and IT (whatever all that is – loyal readers know that technology is not in my wheelhouse) for the health care industry for a company named Kareo (headquarters in Irvine) and, in his words, is crushing it. Since he’s in sales, there are days he tempers his remarks but, so far, he’s riding the sales roller coaster and definitely surviving, if not thriving.
At the end of the half, one of those “this can only happen in a movie” events took place. Alex, who had six points at that juncture, had the ball in his hands, working for the last shot of the half. My cell phone rang and I noticed the call was from my cousin who lives in New Jersey. Since it was nearing midnight Eastern time, I pretty much guessed what the call was about.
“My dad died a little while ago,” I heard him say – just as Alex floated a short jumper over one of Cal State LA’s big guys. It hit nothing but the bottom of the net as the horn went off. Heading into the game, Alex was seven points away from 1,000 so that bucket put him over. I mentioned this to my cousin and he said, “Assist HHCPA.” My uncle, Herman Harris, was a CPA and from my high school days on, I always referred to him as “HHCPA.” We reminisced a little about his life (he was 88) and, before ending our conversation, I said to him, “You know, Bill, one of these days you were going to be making this call.”
He was in complete agreement and remarked, “While it is a sad day, he had a long, happy and successful life.” HHCPA was one of the brightest (NYU graduate), most selfless, giving, caring people I have ever met. Anyone who ever dealt with him felt exactly the same way.
Alex’s buzzer beater had cut LA’s lead to one and, although the Otters fell further behind, clutch plays on both ends gave them a victory. Aunts Peggy and Sue witnessed three out of four wins. The team hoped their new good luck charms would stay. None of us knew how close to the truth that statement wound up.
Sunday was reserved for Andy Boy. We moved headquarters to Orange County (Andy lives a half block from the ocean in Newport Beach). He gave the women a tour of UCI’s campus, complete with tidbits that were mostly humorous (now that he’s graduated); we dined at a terrific fish place on the water (fish tacos around, plus adult beverages for everyone but the driver); he showed them his apartment (assuring them they didn’t need to have a tetanus shot before entering) and we went by both his previous and current places of employment.
Then it was back to the hotel and our suites (not rooms, thank you very much), to rest up for dinner. Peggy, who didn’t invent the computer but could have if she’d been asked to do so, had been staying on top of all situations of interest. One, in particular, happened to be the weather back home in Nashville. Snow – a lot of it – had been predicted but now they were talking about ice and sleet. Resourceful as they were, the girls had a Monday flight out of John Wayne airport in Orange County. Had was the operative word, as they were informed that, not only were they not going to be able to catch their flight the next day, they couldn’t get out of OC – and back to Nashville – until Wednesday!
Jane and I had to get back to Fresno (a five-hour drive with no traffic – which never occurs, unless, as I did in my USC days, we’d leave at 1 or 2 am) so we said our goodbyes. I reminded them that being “stuck” in a place where it was 78 degrees and sunny, as opposed to sleet, ice and wind chill hovering around zero wasn’t all that much of an inconvenience and that they would surely survive nicely.
We got home – stopped in the San Fernando Valley to see some friends from our SC days and finally made it back by about 9:00pm. As the (modified) saying goes:
“All’s well that . . . ends.”
And by now, it finally should have for Peggy and Susan.