As far as adventures go, the last few weeks have been pretty uneventful as far as real, substantive adventures go anyway. Upon returning from Canada in April, I quickly found myself back in the routines of work. Waking up, going in, coming home, and sleeping – you get the point. Monotonous, yes – though also a little comfortable.
May’s biggest adventure came early, and quite unexpectedly. I received a phone call on a Friday from my dad while I was at work, notifying me that my grandpa had died. This came as a bit of a shock, not because it was really that unpredictable, after all, the last time I saw him (probably close to five years ago) he didn’t appear to be in that great of shape. Nonetheless, it is a little jolting when you get a call like that out of the blue. My grandpa lived in Prairie City, Oregon, and the funeral was to be in Haines, Oregon, roughly ten miles north of Baker City and the area from which most of my family springs. Thus, a new road trip was born for the month of May.
My dad and I, with my uncle Scott, packed my dad’s Dodge Ram full of bags and a variety of clothes and set out for Eastern Oregon the following Wednesday morning. Along the way we stopped at Multnomah Falls, ate lunch in The Dalles, and stepped in to a truck stop or two, but mostly we just drove and conversed. We arrived in Baker City around 4:30 in the afternoon, and quickly began the search or a hotel room. We quickly passed up the luxurious one-room, three bed suite with a sagging ceiling, peculiar odor, wood panel walls and random roll-away bed, which we were told was kept in there for the last guest, who said they’d be back soon, (my guess is they had more meth to cook up) in favor of the much nicer, much cleaner Super 8 next to Interstate 84.
Soon after checking in, we received word that my grandma was in the hospital (you know, when it rains…) so the evening’s activities were a bit tempered – basically, no drinking, in case we had to make an unscheduled trip back to the Willamette Valley. We did get to explore the Chinese Cemetery, which was strange, seeing as there was only one actual grave. For a while, I figured he must have been one important guy, having his own cemetery and all… then I figured, “wow, they REALLY hated the Chinese.” In the end, it turns out that everyone else in the cemetery had been exhumed and shipped back to China. The information sign said this was done out of tradition, but I’m not so sure – after all, this was Bush country.
For dinner we hit up the In & Out Drive In on 10th street, not In-N-Out burger, mind you – though I think their sign may be teetering on trademark infringement. It was kind of nice – it’s good to go into a classic burger joint every now and then, the type that makes you remember the meal, as you smell it until you change your shirt. It reminded me of going to The Pirate’s Den with my aunt Dawn and Alf’s with my mom and dad when I was a kid. You know a burger’s going to be good when it comes out of a place where you can hear the fryers boiling and see a blue haze floating in the air.
The funeral was the next day, and was a graveside service – the first such service I had ever been to. It was also my first funeral with full military honors, right down to a 21-gun salute. This was a little surprising – I never really knew my grandpa much, but I didn’t expect to see about a dozen National Guardsmen in full dress uniform, or a flag-draped coffin for that matter. Really, I didn’t know much about my grandpa. I learned a lot in the two days that were spent traveling around the area where my immediate family originates, but there’s still a lot of blank spots. I guess that’s ok – what is there is a mish-mash of small memories, and a lot of lessons of how I should live my life.
After the funeral, there was a reception at the Baptist church in Haines. It was mainly a chance for family to meet, eat some food, and reminisce. The reception was held in the cafeteria, which by the looks of it, was normally used by the Sunday school kids. On whole everything looked fairly normal, save for three words on the white board at the western end of the room. It looked like they were the remnants of a lesson, but they read like a list, from top to bottom: Heathen, Moralist, Jew. I don’t know what that was all about, but it kind of creeped me out, and made me want to get the hell out of there.
After the reception, we drove with several members of my family to the granite quarry that my great-great grandpa (I think) owned and operated on the outskirts of Haines. He apparently made most of the headstones at the old cemetery, as well as a great deal of granite fence posts, and even quarried the granite for the Haines general store and a home in Baker City.
The quarry is now broken down and rusted, the pit flooded, and the whole thing is located on private land, owned by the guy who lives across the gravel road. We were about five minutes behind the rest of the group, and as my dad’s truck made its way up the road, I could see my family crossing the barbed wire fence into the old quarry. I also saw the land owner across the street, backed up against a tree in his front lawn, a shotgun in his hands, and a dog at his side. At once, I began to wonder if in fact my uncle had asked permission to cross the fence.
It turned out that he had asked permission, and it was granted – the landowner was just standing outside hunting squirrels. After wandering around, taking a few pictures, finding a snake, and coming across a pile of old temporary grave markers, it was time to go home. Looking around, it was kind of sad to see that my entire family was back where they all started, and really, who knows how many times we will all be back there again – if ever. After all, there is really only one link left to the family’s history in Haines, my great grandmother.
The trip home was quick, and a lot quieter than the trip there, I guess as can be expected. We dug up the requisite two or three sage brush bushes to see if we could get them to live in the cooler, wetter climate (the answer is no), and we pretty much drove straight home – no stop for dinner, only one stop for gas.
Soon, everything returned to normal, the work routine began again, and in a week or so, I stopped being all introspective about my family and death. There were other adventures in May, and I’ll get to them in the next few days… I just had to get the somewhat depressing one taken care of, so I can move on to finally achieving my life’s goal: getting a homerun ball at a big league ballpark. More to come later.
