certainly one of the last places yourstruly expected...      9.8
to be at 7 Am on a Monday morning. Details in a moment, but first imagine yourself in the waiting room of the emergency department of a military hospital, in this case William Beaumont, fellows in their desert camouflage fatigues waiting their turn to visit with the physician on duty, CNN on the waiting room television, the odd moment of juxtaposition when story re coverup of Saudi government involvement in the events of September three years ago alongside this particular civilian's awareness that the uniformed guys in that room have an entirely different relationship to the news of the day than hisowndamnedself does...
so, best of intentions, best laid plans, etc., etc.; am not going to dwell very long on the whys and wherefores regarding the gravitational attraction that has kept us from firing up the bluesubaru and hitting the highway, some of those reasons will become clear here in a moment. Oh yah, details...       may have made some mention sometime after my father's death in January of habit of my Mom's; 4 or 5 days a week, joining family friend of many years, more than just that, kind of like a granduncle, for a morning stroll, oh maybe half a mile or so. He's a really wonderful gent, Arthur Evans, ninety years old and going strong, well, truth be told, not that strong of late. We get to Papa Evans home around 6:20 Am or so and are met by his neighbor, Juan, who tells us that the old fellow hied himself off to the Emergency Room. Juan was awakened by the sound of the diesel engine of the ambulance that Arthur had summoned (no sirens), had gotten himself dressed and in brief conversation with Juan described that he thought he was experiencing a stroke, perhaps a heart attack. Now this is something that the Momz and mineownself have been aware of for sometime, the possiblity of discovering our old friend in dire straits so even though neither of us was entirely unprepared for such an eventuality, it still hit awfully close to home. After a bit more conversation with Juan we decided to drive on over to W. Beaumont Hospital and check on our old pal Arthur and we'll fill you in on the rest of our Monday adventure in just a moment.
What has really kept us from going on with our intended adventure, our desire to join up with the forces of peace and justice out there in la manzana grande during the RNC, was news re the Momz brother Reynaldo. Been tough going for the old jarhead for the better part of the last year and particularly so in the last few months: he was hospitalized in June, released into the care of his brother (my uncle) Jesse (more familiarly known to us as Chuy), who took Rey into his L.A. home for a few weeks as he attempted to recuperate. Mom was able to visit with him briefly when she and brother Dave drove out to N. Cal to attend brother Ken's retirement ceremony in Pt. Reyes. Much discussion amongst the sisters, my Mom Ester, aunties Tali (Cecilia) and Cuca (Ruth), and their brother Chuy on the subject of the welfare of their brother, much concern as it pretty obvious to all that he can no longer manage on his own, and, well, it gets complicated. Not going to go on and on with this, it's too late (currently nearly 11:30 on Wednesday night) and it has been a long day. Tali flew out nearly two weeks ago, mainly to see for herself what kind of deterioration had set in. She & spouse Fidel had made an earlier trip, around the same time that Mom did and part of my own reasons for holding off on our intended itinerary was so that yourstruly'd be around if needed, maybe drive the Momz out to Twentynine Palms, maybe stick around chez Pivarnick while the Momz flew to So Cal and joined up with Tali & Chuy. Well, we'll be making that trip one way or another because uncle Rey died this afternoon. Some news from a few days ago had prepared us a little better for this eventuality; the Momz and myself had returned from a pleasant Sunday afternoon attending the annual Jazz in the Canyon concert, discovering several messages from Tali, Momz returning the call, Tali sharing the news provided by doctor earlier that day, a very severe and negative prognosis giving Rey perhaps a week, ten days if he was "lucky". Yeeeeeeshhhhhhhhh....
okay then, well, back to the adventures of Arthur Evans. Mom and you-know-who get to the hospital pronto quickly, not too far a drive, maybe 10 minutes from Papa Evans residence. There we is, in that waiting room, 7 Am, not at all certain of what fate has in store next for yourstuly and those he loves, happily though, a little reprieve. Momz comes out and lets me know he seems to be fine and is being sent home, we there just in time to provide limousine service for the old veteran (Papa E is a career army man, even escorted the Emperor back in the days of the American Occupation of Japan). We spend the next few hours in his company, making sure he gets settled in, we hear all about the events of his morning, several other family friends descend upon the little house on Signal Peak to provide nuturing sustenance to a very highly thought of guy. His condidtion still a little worrisome, Momz saw him this morning, they walked a bit, but only a fraction of their usual morning jaunt, and we (personally speaking) not feeling all that confident that the old sargeant is entirely out of the woods; not sure what it is, not exactly a premonition, and certainly not anything I could say I am enjoying the sensation of, but am certainly feeling a lot of it these days.