Good with my people

Ross Cariaga: traveling Beaver

Dad's spirit paid a visit today.  I got email from his old teammate.  James Funston, left tackle. (They played both ways back then.  "We were the Light Brigade," said James.  "I weighed 205 lbs."  Nowadays, of course, 205 lbs. would scarcely make a fleet-footed cornerback.)

The 1962 Oregon State University Beavers football team is being inducted into that school's Hall of Fame in September of this year.  Fifty years after they last took the field.  James is contacting teammates (or their surviving families) to inform them of the event. 

"If you come, there'll be some guys there who can tell you stories about your dad," James said.  He chuckled.  "I might have a couple stories for ya, too."  I can well imagine.  Dad and James were young men in college in the early 60s.

I informed my sibs about the encounter and was overwhelmed with enthusiastic queries.  "What is the event?"  "We want tickets!"  "Maybe we should rent a box at the game!"  Everyone wanted to come.

Dad's ghost still stirs up the Tribe.  

Mom, Sister Mia, and Brother-in-law Tim at my 50th birthday party last month

Then, this evening, Mom called from LAX.  She and Doug are on their way to South America.  Peru, specifically.  And from there, Chile and Argentina.  With a stop in Rio.  Mom and Doug, snow-birding in Arizona, traveling the world, living the good life of retirement.  The life they've earned.

I asked Mom if she remembered James Funston, but she didn't.

Maty and I picked up dinner from the Thai restaurant down the street.  Pumpkin curry and pad woon sen.  It wasn't spicy enough, but we didn't mind.  We munched our food out of the cartons and talked about what the house will be like when our new kitchen is ready.  Six week countdown.

A good day.  Mom is traveling abroad, sibs are planning a reunion, Maty and I are dreaming of our future, and Dad breezed through. 

Things are good with my people.