Cali, Day 4

When did today actually begin for me? Fell asleep reading my book last night about eleven, but at 120 I awoke to the neighbor starting up his truck, as I had forgotten to shut the window. Stirred from my slumber, I realized the light was on and my day clothes instead of my night clothes covering my body.

Sleepily I gathered myself into somewhat of a coherent mass and dragged my feet down the hall to brush my teeth and get ready for "bedtime". There's something homey about grandma's house, the way it smells of antiquity and musky perfumes. Something in the way the grandfather clock ticks in the living room, and the hall is adorned with pictures of three generations. In the way the door to the bathroom won't ever shut nicely because of the towel rack hanging on it, and the pastel rose wallpaper I've grown accustomed to.

But of course, once I had completed my routine, I was no longer tired. Sleep fled from me and turned to curiosity about what I'd left unknown in the tale of Jane Eyre in her position of governess, what there was still to know about Mr. Rochester, her master and friend. Picking up my copy, I assumed the fetal position under the covers, holding the pages close. Time was lost in the beauty of a story not my own, a new saga to ponder, and it was ten minutes before four in the morning when I finally thought I should be miserable the next day without any rest.

However, as soon as I reached up to turn off the light, by brain would not cease its whirring, but instead, took up spinning faster. "Oh, shut up," I whispered hoarsely to myself in the dark. Several minutes later, I concluded that I would never be able to sleep until I took my troubling thoughts to my Father in heaven. What succeeded was an outpouring of everything I'd been turning over, asking for wisdom in matters I knew little about. And a peace overcame my tense and aroused senses, before much later, I was unconscious.

At 8:04 (much too early for my liking, but I couldn't stay in bed any longer) I swung my feet over the side of my fold-out bed and brought myself to sluggishly meander out to the kitchen. This was the beginning of a very full day.

"Happy birthday, Les," mom greeted me by the cereal cabinet.

On purpose I had chosen to bring the nightshirt which stated, "I'm not bossy, I just know what you should be doing," but this morning I was at ease with all my siblings. Even my BROTHER - a shock, I know - came up to me and gave me a huge hug and sang happy birthday to me, ending with "I love you." As much as we've fought, disagreed, and generally had discord in opinions, I'll admit, that was sweet.

At eleven, it was proposed we all eat lunch at grandma's before setting off to the wild world of Los Angeles. There's something to be said for eating whatever leftovers you want to, wearing what you like, and having grandma say, "Oh, Susan, it's her birthday! Let her do what she wants." Yep, definitely a grandma.

In another hour or so, everyone had been piled into the van like a collection of party-goers, and I contented myself with staring out the window at nothing in particular. Palms, traffic, pedestrians all passed by my eyes, but my mind was elsewhere. My heart was removed from the noise, the sights and smells, and intent on what was probably occurring back home. However, such a solicitous advance toward melancholy wasn't to be tolerated.

We pulled off the exit ramp and came to what I had been anticipating for the past day: Hollywood Boulevard. I didn't know the Walk of Fame was so extensive! Crowds teemed on the sidwalks, the pedestrian crossings, everywhere. Imitators of popular movie characters paved the walkways and posed with the pressing floods of tourists. Michael Jackson. Christopher Reeves as Superman. KISS. Captain Jack Sparrow. Wonder Woman. They were all there. When a bride, groom, three bridesmaids and a groomsman exited a building to my left, it took me a moment to decide whether they were truly just married or part of the extravagant scenery.

I found several stars in the sidewalk bearing the names of actors and actresses I recognized and admired. One in particular though, right in front of the Mann's Chinese Theater, caused a commotion among our small group; the star of one Harry Langdon. No, he's not some famous comedian, nor a huge televangelist, no, he was a rather obscure actor. He acted in silent films, a long time ago, but what I didn't know before today, was that, well, I was related to him. My dad was ecstatic to discover it, and the rest of us caught onto his excitement.

To wrap things up, we left Hollywood Blvd. much too soon, but turned our direction to Griffith Observatory. Still daylight, there wasn't much in the way of stars to be seen (not that you'd be able to see much through the haze in downtown LA anyway...) but it left a somewhat impressionable image on my mind. The history of the place is really what intersted me, not the gift shop or the show we saw projected on the inside of the dome. Stepping outside onto the open balcony overlooking the city skyline, a breeze blew continually, slightly tinged with cold for moments at a time. I could've stood there for an hour, just drinking in the pleasant weather and silence I found, and even though people went their own way behind me, I wasn't disturbed from my quiet reverie.

And shortening things considerably yet again, we managed to get back in the car, go down the mountain, and back to La Puente for dinner at Acupolco(?). Now this was the most genuinely Mexican-tasting food I've had in America. Near the end of the meal, when the waitress handed dad the check, my mom leant over to ask her something in her ear. I tried to make out what had just happened, so I asked, "Mom, what did you ask her?" But she evaded my questions, making a pretense to have not heard me by remarking about something on the receipt. By this time I knew something was up, but it was too late. Here they came in long procession, the entirety of the waiting staff and their manager, so sing a happy birthday song to me... in Spanish. I felt I blushed a little at the attention, but it was a happy occasion. At least this year I wasn't made to stand on a chair in the middle of the restaurant again.