Click on the youTube link to see the pictures (it might take a few seconds to upload).
http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_detailpage&v=UbGoiSFYtWsDick’s appointment at the PD Institute went well. Not much has changed since the last visit in May. Unfortunately the balance and dexterity issues remain a problem, especially handwriting, shuffling cards, and using eating utensils. The doc encouraged Dick to take big steps and swing his arms and upper body forcefully; which is better said than done. By and large, we are happy. PD may take away some physical abilities but it cannot touch Dickie’s mind, it cannot touch his heart, and it cannot touch his soul; and for that we’re grateful.
The afternoon appointment had its drawbacks. Traffic in Silicon Valley was heavy. Heck, heavy is the wrong word – it was massive. What the hell happened since the sixties, when I first came to this area? The landscape bloomed with orchards of plums, pears, apricots and cherries, and was one on the nation’s most bountiful agricultural region. Today, this prune patch is the heartland of an electronics revolution with rectangular buildings, on which corporate nameplates display fusions of high-tech words.
Our goal was to reach Mt. Shasta before nightfall, but we only made it to Corning, a two-horse town just south of Redding. Next day, we crossed the Oregon state line, where everything slows down. The maximum speed is 65. In Nevada it’s 75. I consider myself an average driver, driving around ten miles over the speed limit. I get annoyed by anyone who drives ten miles under, which is the norm on Interstate 5 in Oregon. It’s infested with trucks and camper-wagons that drive ridiculously slow, which gives the illusion I drive at light speed compared to them. Fortunately I didn’t get a ticket.
And let us not forget that in Oregon you are not allowed to pump your own gas. Instead what you have to do is find a pump, drive up, sit, and wait while the person on duty finishes his cigarette and is done chit-chatting on his cell phone. When he finally can be bothered, he will take your credit card, put the nozzle in the tank and leave. Then get ready to wait some more to get the credit card back.
In spite of this “Nanny” treatment we arrived at the glorious 40-acre Stowell Estate in time for cocktails. Later that evening life revolved around the dinner table with 14 family members all bearing the same name. We celebrated our 3-generation-togetherness with delicious food, wine, love, friendship, joy, warmth and magic.
It’s a joy to see the 5 most endearing “grandsons” growing into a whole new generation of leaders and Laura turning into a gorgeous 5 ft 11 inches College Freshman. Of course the older generation is proof why 70-somethings is cool, while the sandwiched X-ers patiently await their turn becoming seniors.
Than there are the two Golden Labrador Retrievers. Sunny is a puppy, which means Doug is going through the phase where he spends a lot of time patting her saying “That’s a GOOD girl”, and practically awarding her the prestigious World Peace Prize for achievements such as not jumping on people. As for old Chance: You can say anything you want to him, and he will give you this look that says, “My God, you’re Right.” He’s loving, understanding and compassionate. Poor thing also gets joint injections –same as Dickie.
That’s it, that’s all – for tonight.
http://www.mapquest.com/embed?hk=nQF0xB