Writing these is weird now. The only folks that read them are Mom, Dad, maybe Lois, and myself when I’m looking up some tidbit of info about something we did a long time ago. Sorry if anybody else reads this and thinks “hey!” – let me know!

My parents came to visit for five days this week. These visits have changed. What was once a sort of family event with a splashy itinerary is now more of an early bird special book and puzzle club under observation. Part of that is for health reasons, which I completely understand. The other part is that this was an ad-hoc trip put together more hastily after an original December visit was cancelled late for a (non-life threatening but temporarily immobilizing) health event. And I think after 20+ years of me living here my mother has run out of local curiosities to see. We’ve certainly long ago checked off all the obvious tourist traps in town, despite having a longer list than maybe anywhere in the world. We’ve been doing this so long some of those things we visited in the past no longer even exist (the Wayfarer’s Chapel, the OUE Skyspace, etc.)

As such, there are no photos of hikes or beaches or cityscapes this time. The only hiking was short loops through my own neighborhood. We did go to Malibu Seafood, of course, but that’s a given on these trips, not something to write about again. I will note that the arctic char, which is not always available, was pretty good and dad’s fried oysters used a thinner batter, which I thought would be good but he said it made the inside a little more gooey (they used to be using that thick dark crusty batter in the past). And there was plenty of parking and open tables there at 3pm on a Sunday. That’s certainly new. A leading indicator of the coming economic crash, maybe? There were plenty of Lambos and Ferraris (and even a blue Bugatti Chiron heading north on Malibu Canyon) fart-blasting up the coast, so some people are still doing just fine. Woops, looks like I wrote about it after all!

We did get to try two new (to us) local Mexican restaurants (Casita Del Campo & Casa Chida) which ended up having good outdoor seating accommodations and reasonably authentic food; so easy spots to take mom to in the future.

I only realized late last night that, despite supplying dad with ice cream from our freezer every day, we’d made zero trips to a gelato shop. I think that might be the first time that happened on one of these visits since Sam joined our lives? Indicative of how much life is changing for everyone; tariffs have made Sam’s work life difficult and time consuming, and parents are aging out of the stamina to stay out late in the west for more “strange flavored” food.

We had two days of estate sales while Sam could join (weekends), but even those estate sales were minor league compared to what we’ve seen in the past (maybe estate sales are seasonal or something?). I was hoping to take them to new iterations of the fancy Brentwood/Hollywood/Pasadena mansions owned by famous people or Saudis Sam and I had visited on estate sale days in earlier times, but the best we could do now were old houses with pools in Encino.

For the majority of the visit dad was hunched over a crossword at the kitchen table and mom was trying to complete a romance novel so as to leave it behind and have more room in her luggage for the trip back. Often mentioned was what time it is in Ohio and how unbelievable it’s not that time and what temperature it is and whether five inches of snow is a lot or not. I don’t know if I used to say these things when traveling, but if I did it’s been stomped out of me by going to enough far off places where nobody cares what time it is for you “at home.” (actually these days unless it’s Russia you’re visiting, it’s best not to mention you’re an American at all!) Having one foot in Ohio (or in my case California) prevents you at all times from being fully present in whatever faraway place you’ve landed. I definitely had no concept or care for what time it was in Los Angeles when I was standing at the foot of a fjord in Patreksfjörður watching the aurora borealis. But I admit that’s an easier perspective for me to adopt since I’m not currently located in the state I grew up in and I’ve only lived in my house for four years. At one point in the visit my father and I discussed the difficulty people have changing their worldview. This was in the abstract, but also mirrors our own experiences I suppose. Their anchors are much deeper, harder to pull up, and therefore maybe not mentally worth it for a five day excursion. Also the reason for the trip seemed to be proximity to us, not participation in any California specific experiences per se.

What’s strange is that these folks, who are retired and routinely stay up late (I sometimes get texts from my mother in Ohio after I’ve already gone to bed in California) at home, are devastated with exhaustion by 8pm EST. Maybe I’m being unfair, it’s possible they’re exhausted at home too. Or perhaps maybe it’s exciting to stay up past your bedtime when you have nothing you have to get up for, and a pronounced shock that it’s only 5pm when it feels like 8 is a way to celebrate that, not a complaint.

I guess I’d know the answers if I asked. But I never ask, and that’s on me. (although I’m pretty sure the stoicold [yes, I’m inventing words – just like the President!] quietudity is at least partially inherited)

Because we’ve been so stressed with work (and worry about the collapse of the country and our future in it-or out of it), the slow relaxing approach to life was hard to grasp. I felt like we should be up and about doing something, making hay in the brief “time off” – but every day is “time off” for them, so there was no hurry to finish that crossword or that next chapter. I’m not often faced with “slack time” like this so for a few hours I abandoned my parents to go to work (my downstairs office). My future self is trying to convince me to feel incredibly guilty about that, that I should “treasure every moment.” My wife too, who doesn’t have the luxury of her parents being only a five hour flight away.

So I guess I’m saying my anchor I can’t lift (at least not any time soon) is the stress of responsibilities both immediate (work/money) and existential (law/country). This does follow me on vacation now, whether in my house or on the road. Makes it difficult to just sit back and relax with folks who (as my father puts it) are “in a different reality.”

That said, it’s long been obvious I received my stubbornness from them, so it would be silly to expect otherwise. But in key ways (getting vaccinated, wearing a mask) they bend away from tradition and comfort and engage in the alternate reality I’ve constructed at some distance (both ideologically and geographically) from theirs. And for that, I’m grateful.

So what’s to write about? The things we talked about (past grievances and health issues) aren’t appropriate for publication on the dead internet. But here I am, typing more words the day after than I said in person the five preceding.