Over The Bridge and UpValley

Sunday - To Grandmother's house I go...

Yes, I promised my Grandmother a visit on a Sunday morning after a Saturday night out. So Sunday morning, I was up early and without coffee I braved the freeway and crossed over to the other side. Of the bridge, that is. This would be my first actual, real, sanctioned visit since she's moved to Yountville. Although I couldn't tell you when that was. No, I haven't been the best of granddaughters in the visiting department. But then, having a career had sort of gotten in the way. The Entertainment Industry can do that to you. Swallow you whole and turn your next five years into a daily diatribe of six day weeks and "I can'ts" followed closely by no shows. Truthfully, that wasn't all. As a matter of fact, having grown up had sort of gotten in the way.

While I was growing up, attaining a career, finding love and then successfully losing (it), moving on to a newer life; Grandma was also growing older, retiring, losing her love, and moving into The Veterans Home.The Veterans Home,Yountville, California, Building H to be exact. Kennedy Building to be even more precise.

As I made the left turn off the onramp, a sign directed me away from the town of Yountville and towards the Home. One wrong turn and you could end up on the golf course or even worse in the vineyard to the right. Cautiously, I slowed the Passat to an even fifteen miles an hour. Grandma had warned me many times on the phone that security was relentless about the speed limit within the grounds.

Two more lefts and I would be close to the busstop we were meeting at according to my directions. In front of me was the Abraham Lincoln Recreation Center. I pulled into the parking lot on the right side of the busstop and prepared myself to wait. Grandma, try as she might, set her watch to UGT. Universal Grandma Time and it ran at least a half an hour slower than POP-CORN. Why did I forget that little fact until now? I probably could have slept at least another half an hour if I had accounted for UGT.

Sitting, listening to 102.1, wondering, playing what if; waiting for Grandma. I spotted her walking across the street towards Building H with someone. It had to be her. She was wearing the Tigger jacket I gave her when she and Mom visited for Mother's Day last year. I locked the car with the remote and ran across the road to stop her.

Underneath the bare trees, I hugged her and we waved at her friend walking away. Together, we headed inside her building and up the front staircase. At the top of the stairs, she pointed out three glass cases that held pictures of the occupants of the building. These cases, photos and surrounding paper faded by the sunlight that streamed through the large paned windows behind us. Empty spaces pronounced and obvious due to this discoloration. Even if she hadn't pointed it out to me - the meaning was clear. These were the ones... the people, her friends, who had passed on.

"Can you find mine? I bet you won't recognize me."

She was right.

"Let's take the stairs to my room."

Her room, in a hallway that reminded me of a hospital. Wheelchairs scattered up and down this corridor. I hate hospitals. They scare me. Her room, one door off a corridor of doors spaced too closely together. I hate being crowded. It scares me. Her door, I look up and see a reminder of home. Her door and the two chipmunks that used to be over the fireplace. Familar, reassuring, but still not home. She opens the door. I hate this room. It scares me.

How can this be home? The room, little larger than a moderate sized bathroom. I've seen examining rooms that are larger than this! I've seen apartments in Paris with more square footage! I don't make this remark. I don't make a single sound. Hard to believe, I just wait for Grandma to speak.

She makes the usual remarks...excuse the mess, take a seat...

But its so hard for me to believe that a whole life has been reduced to and lived for to end up in this space. This space that couldn't encompass half of what my grandma is or has done.

I get the grand tour on the way to lunch. They have a communal bathroom, shower, laundry, and even a day room for ironing, cards, TV, etc. There's one on every floor at the end of each hall.

We head down the stairs and across the grounds.

My New Cell Phone

So it's a trite thing...a shallow thing...it's a cell phone after all. Just a few years ago how many of us really knew how important these little things would be to us now? Ok, they weren't really little then but they seem to be getting smaller now.

And it's my cell phone. My link to the world. My freedom to be anywhere at anytime. And sometime two years ago, a great place to forward my office calls to when I wanted to see a matinee. Cell phones such a wonder and such a curse they are.

There's such a fine line drawn between love and hate. Until now, I had nothing but admiration and complete adoration for my phone. All its features lovingly I caressed in the palm of my hand. This phone was complete perfection. It did all I ever wanted and needed. For God's sake, I gave up my Palm Pilot because I could let nothing come between me and my phone.

That was until I let my phone down.

It began with a spontaneous trip to LA. As I drove over the Bay Bridge, I glanced at my companion. A little low on batteries. The phone might not survive the trip. I would have to power her down for awhile.

Something legends told of - the power down. I knew it existed in theory. I just couldn't remember ever being alone since I found her. No, I had to take one for the team if I was to remain in a good cellular space. I could manage.

Tentatively I pressed the dreaded end button. She flashed a green good-bye and it was me and the road. I drove on into the distance. After some time, I had to stop and fill up the Passat. Might as well get a bite to eat too. And lo and behold, an In and Out Burger appeared. Oh joy of joys! My soul yearned for a grilled cheese right about now.

Ah, my phone. I'll just make a quick call to Todd and let him know I'll be there soon. Well in a few more hours give or take a grilled cheese.

What the fuck! Nothing is working on the phone as it flashes on sporting a brand new logo. The phone had now become part of something nightmares are made of. Stuck in Computer Control Mode. Computer Control Mode? What is that? How can I make it stop now?

Time to call home. Time to call Sprint. Time to call someone. But as technology would have it, all my vitals are inside this Computer Control Mode locked away!

I find a phone booth. I have no change. I have no calling card. I mean isn't that what cell phones are for. Oh Sprint! Why have you forsaken me in my time of need! I called out to the heavens. I called out to my Service Provider.

What's this I ask myself as I grasp the book hanging from the bottom of the booth. The Yellow Pages. I seem to remember how those work. I should have known the Yellow Pages would always be there for me. Sprint, you are such a Johnny come lately in the communications industry.

No such luck. I can't even pull the book clasped to the booth into an upright position. I stoop to reading the pages upside down. Reading them without my glasses, upside down, I locate an 800 number for Sprint and dial.

All the while praying to the cellular God. Please let there be light. Please let there be light. God must not exist in a cellular form because there was no light. That or he is just terribly misunderstood.

Well, we all know the ending to the call to Sprint. I got the most inexperienced technical support person and she proceeded to advise me to shut off the phone. Thus ensuring my phone's demise, my cellular withdrawal, and a pretty dark and lonely drive.

I tried music. I tried singing along. I even tried driving really really fast. In the end, driving really really fast won out. Although it never really cured the onset of my cellular withdrawal. You can't do that with anything less than a cellular connection.

At least, I could go to sleep and when I woke up there would be the pilgrimage to the holy land - The Sprint Store. There I would learn of the ways to combat my phone's evil Computer Controlled ways and set it on the right path to a blessed digital connection.

What am I thinking??? This is Sprint we're talking about!

Upon waking and feeling the panic attack set in, I knew I had to call Duckie. We had to go to Mecca. I had to drive in LA. We did still have the Passat.

Thanks to the Parking Gods and Duckie's cripple clip we got Rock Star parking. Not Rock Star treatment when we walked in. We took a number and I bought a coffee next door to combat the fit of nerves that now set in. Mmmm...coffee...

It was a sad lot standing there contemplating the woes of my phone and I. Here I stood among so many others. All we wanted was to be able to use our phones freely and to obtain the happiness that Sprint promised. It seemed such a little thing. Could you blame us all for exchanging our stories, for bonding in our pain, for tearing all the tickets out of the ticket machine...Well, maybe that guy went a little overboard with expression.

We all felt a loss that day. How many missed calls? Would our voicemail be full? Or would it even be there when we were once more a part of the fold? No one could say. We could only hope for the best and throw in a few degrading words about Sprint.

When it finally fell to me to face the ones who would decide the fate of my cellular presence, it had been hours. My phone was now trash. It had been stuck in a software upgrade I never asked for. And all because I turned it off when prompted. I knew there was something wrong when I pressed that end button. Even the first time I did it. Why oh why did I ever disconnect!

In the midst of my anguish, I heard the Sprint Manager say they could mail me a new phone in three to five days. And I with the outrage of a junkie coming down hard wept. I had to have a phone. Any phone would do. I just needed a phone. Didn't they have a phone somewhere? Just a little one lying around that no one would miss? I gotta have a phone, you just don't understand...

A voice from the next station over spoke up. I'm returning my phone I heard him say. Duckie quickly responded and made the deal with the manager. The Manager being a consciousness man agreed only if we waited until he had helped the others in front of our now proclaimed savior.

And so we waited...and waited...and waited some more. The fix now just within my reach but still so far away. We joked. We told stories. We did anything to keep my mind off the phone.

At last, came the moment. I recieved the phone. I made a call. I felt better. Only to find out, in the haze of my need I had a phone that was in no way like my old phone. What! No dual band! It was not perfect. It did not fulfill all my needs. I could not adore it. Instead, it was a horrid little phone! I hated it but I needed it just the same.

Yes, there's such a thin little line drawn between love and hate, want and need, freedom and slavery, dual band and digital...Except before I was on the other side of the line