I have a lot of memories of LA that span the entirety of my childhood and then some. Many things I learned in LA, I'm proud to say, have helped shape who I am today. I credit this to the immeasurable influence of my aunt and uncle who live in Long Beach, CA.
Unfortunately, it was bad timing for my aunt and uncle as they were dealing with a death in the family. So, instead of social pleasantries, I went to the cemetery to visit my dad dressed in my "finest" city clothes. Having no place to clean up, I showered behind my truck amidst the large rock formations in Joshua Tree and boom! Several hours later, I had arrived.
It took the cemetery people nearly 20 minutes to figure out which plot I was looking for. I don't understand why I had to provide them with my SSN and other irrelevant information...During this ordeal, one of the three idle employees standing around the front desk looked me up and down and sneered at my sandals. I'm not sure what his issue was since there was no one to impress, just the dead, which I'm sure don't give a s***. On top of getting sneered at, before I left the cemetery, I'd been solicited to purchase additional grave plots three times because "space was becoming limited". The arrogance, commercialism, and overall poor customer service was annoying.
I never knew my dad as he passed away when I was very young. All I have are a collection of stories and a larger than life mental image of my dad which I don't think I could ever live up to. It wasn't until I was in college that an old friend of my dad's told me that I needed to stop living in his shadow and make my own way. That observation really jolted me and I've taken that bit to heart. Nevertheless, my dad has remained very important to me, and I've visited him every time I visited LA.
In honor of my dad, let me share with you a story I was told when I was young. My dad traveled a lot for work. On many occasions, he traveled internationally. He traveled so much to Brazil that he was able to pick up Portuguese and was possibly the first person in his company to deliver business presentations in the local language. Back then, it was unheard of for Americans to do this. In addition to traveling a lot, he also enjoyed playing pranks on people. I remember growing up in a house full of my dad's prank cigarette boxes, gum sticks, etc.
One time, a delegation of business men from Brazil came to Minnesota and my dad went to pick them up from the airport. The Brazilians were completely baffled and in awe when they got in the car as a local Brazilian broadcast was playing. They were so impressed, they told other people at the Minnesota office about it. The Minnesotans were confused because they couldn't recall any radio stations which aired in Portuguese. It was later revealed to them that my dad had recorded the station on a cassette while he was in Brazil and had been playing it in his car. Presumably, this was to help them feel more at home while away from home. But, to me, it's always been a story that illustrated one of the many ways my dad was extremely creative, humorous, and thoughtful.
Peace. Love Nicole.
