Mishpachah (Yiddish for family)

As many of you know, Dennis is an incredible person. Deeply devoted to family and friends, he cherishes friendships and loves family with abandon. Dennis nurtures relationships, reaching out often to relatives and friends to check-in, chat, and arrange to get together. He is in his element connecting with people. When planning the trip, we made a list of family and friends we wanted to see along the way. Dennis reached out to the majority of them because he is comfortable doing that, and I am not.

Dennis’ family is originally from Lithuania. Dora Gerson, Dennis’ great-grandmother, left Lithuania to escape the pogroms at the end of the 19th century. Dora, an observant Orthodox Jew, followed the commandment to “be fruitful and multiply.” When her children began having their children, Dora was graced with 20 grandchildren. My father-in-law is one of them, and he has nineteen first cousins he grew up with in Houston, Texas. The remaining cousins are a tight bunch to this day. Over time, the cousins have migrated throughout the U.S. with many landing in Austin, Texas.

Moving to California in 1947, made seeing his cousins challenging, but Dad treasured those relationships and reached out to his cousins frequently. He also had terrific relationships with his siblings and spoke with them often when they were both still alive. I see my children’s sibling relationships are very similar to theirs, and it makes me grateful beyond words. To have your kids grow up to not only love each other but be friends as well, for me, is the peak of the parenting experience. Dad talks to his nieces and nephews frequently and is an involved Zadie (grandfather in Yiddish) with all of his grandchildren. He adores his great-granddaughter and continually tells us to enjoy the nachas (joy in Yiddish) of being a grandparent. At eighty-three years-old, Dad still speaks with surviving friends from his younger days. You can now appreciate where Dennis developed the importance of family and friends.

After saying “peace out” to Marfa, Texas, and not wanting to attract the attention of the Texas Sheriffs again, Dennis drove at a lawful speed towards Leakey, Texas. As you may recall, Leakey is the home of our older daughter’s parents-in-law, Patti and Terry. They are phenomenal hosts. Together, we ate, drank good wine, played games, drank more good wine, talked for hours, and drank good Old Fashioneds. Our first night there, I enjoyed not only a scrumptious dinner prepared by Patti and Terry but ten hours of serene sleep, courtesy the Marfa “idiot,” leaving me sleep-deprived.

Author and columnist Lois Wyse wrote, “Grandchildren are the dots that connect the lines from generation to generation.” Going a step further, I’ll say that the granddaughter the four of us share, connects this generation. Our granddaughter Adley loves for people to sing her “Row, Row, Row Your Boat” or as she calls it “Ro, Ro.” When Patti and Terry FaceTime with her, they sing the song. We do the same thing with Adley. So how do you blow a sixteen-months old mind? Have all four grandparents together FaceTiming and singing the magic song. We LOVED watching her run in circles, laughing, surprised by Grand-Mere, Grand-Pere, Papa, and Mimi. Adley’s joy is the dots that connect the four of us.

After the second night of blissful sleep, we said our good-byes to Patti and Terry, begging them to come to California and stay with us. Hopefully, they will join us, along with their daughter, son-in-law, and grandson, along with our kids and Adley, for a family trip to Disneyland in the next year or two. In the meantime, we look forward to seeing one another for Adley’s birthday in October.

Back on the road, already missing Patti and Terry, we proceeded towards Austin, the state capitol, and The Fairmont hotel. Oh, glorious day to stay at The Fairmont! Well, three days. Nice splurge. With our unpacking complete, we went in search of dinner in the bustling downtown area. We wanted to try some barbeque at some point while traversing Texas, but chose not to that night, eating a forgettable meal elsewhere.

The following day, Dennis spoke with Steve, his second cousin. Agreeing to meet for lunch near our hotel, Steve said cousin Irl would be joining us. Dennis had not seen Irl for fifty years. Steve chose a popular barbeque restaurant. Happy dance! With mouths salivating, we were anticipating some delicious Texas BBQ. Expectations can lead to disappointment. The BBQ was not exactly how we imagined it to be. However, the time spent with Irl and Steve made up for the let-down over the brisket, tri-tip, and chicken.

As the discussion about cousins, siblings, parents, distant relatives, and grandchildren filled the afternoon, the conversation turned to our trip. Steve and Irl inquired if we had a set itinerary, where we had been, and where our travels were taking us next. We shared there are only two set stops, Seattle for Passover and Washington, D.C. for the American Israel Public Affairs Committee (AIPAC) conference. Irl, who has a wickedly dry sense of humor, said he was going to AIPAC as well. Silently I doubted him. He didn’t seem like the AIPAC type, whom I imagine to be the politically conservative, button-downed type, but I was judging the book by its cover. Irl revealed attending the conference for roughly fifteen years with his two brothers, and AIPAC is an annual pilgrimage for them. In addition to the three brothers, Dennis and myself, there was another second cousin, Julia, also headed for the conference. Happily, plans were arranged to find one another at the conference for a second cousins’ mini-reunion.

During lunch, Dennis told Steve and Irl about a scheduled lunch the next day with some of his Dad’s first cousins and invited them to join us. Hugging each other good-bye, (this was before social distancing) with promises to see one another tomorrow, we headed off for an afternoon of sightseeing. Before we walked more than a few feet, Irl asked if we wanted to see his condo, which was a couple of blocks away. Sightseeing or connecting with family? We went to Irl’s place. As we walked along chatting away, Dennis asked Irl what he does now that he is retired. Irl said, “Nothing.” Laughing, Dennis replied, “No. Really.” Irl was insistent that he does nothing, absolutely nothing. He likes doing nothing. I am intrigued. Is Irl being funny or honest? I’ll figure it out one day.

Irl’s home has mega wow factor: stunning condo on the upper floors of the W Hotel in downtown Austin, and a spectacular view of the Texas Colorado River (yes, different Colorado River.) After spending time with Irl, getting to know him better, he quickly became one of my favorite of the cousins. Eventually, we headed back to our hotel for an afternoon of relaxation and a goodnight’s sleep in preparation to hit the ground running the next day.

Our packed Saturday in Austin included seeing the Texas State Capitol building, learning the history of Texas, and seeing more family. Visiting Rainey Street, an area popular with locals and tourists, was on the agenda as well. It has several blocks of bars and restaurants with the streets closed off to vehicles. After touring the capitol building, Dennis and I headed over to meet the cousins at The Domain, an open-air mall.

Right before we left for the trip, I began having problems with bursitis in my left leg. It flares up, and at times, walking can be painful and slow going. Being the kind soul he is, Dennis offered to drop me off near the restaurant. At first, I declined, but after shifting in my seat a little, I determined it to be a good idea. I gingerly exited the car, and Dennis left to park. While standing in front of the chosen restaurant, I noticed my favorite store about half a block away. I managed to hobble over to see what I could quickly grab and purchase. The parking gods ever in Dennis’s favor thwarted my plan. Finding me in the store, he looked at me askance, and I coyly replied how a shopping mall could rejuvenate me. After lunch, Dennis capitulated to my shopping request. I found him a “husband chair” in the store and proceed to heal myself through retail therapy.

To cap off a great day, especially the shopping part, we headed to Rainey Street for dinner and drinks. Our son-in-law, Warren, recommended Rainey Street to us as a fun place to people watch. What he didn’t realize, and we didn’t mention we would be there on a Saturday night. I kid you not, we brought the age average up by fifteen years. The place was teeming with college students, bachelor, and bachelorette parties on drinking binges. Not to be left out, we indulged as well. I fuzzily remember taking the photo in front of the phone booth, which is an indicator of my inebriation, as I do not like having my picture taken, but here I am all smiles. There is also a hazy recollection of running over to buy TWO bags of mini-donuts along with dipping sauces. That is the last thing I remember of Rainey Street.

Waking the next morning with a hangover and barely holding my s*** together, as my liver no longer functions like that of a twenty-five-year-old, Dennis asked me if I remembered the night before. Looking for clues, I found the donut remnants in our room, mostly uneaten.  Scanning the room didn’t trigger any additional memories of the previous night. Dennis is incredulous that after two drinks, okay four, I can blackout like that. I can only hope the phone booth picture is the most incriminating evidence of my exploits on Rainey Street. 

I wonder how I am going to survive Bourbon Street; however, that is further along on our trip. We have other places to see and more stories to tell before New Orleans.