Smells Like Home

A little more than a week after we returned home from our big summer family trip, I headed to California for my grandma's funeral.  It was so good to see my grandpa.  I hadn't been back to California to visit him since Makayla was a baby (about 8 years).  He only remembered meeting Emily.  He is such a sweet man and I am privileged to be his granddaughter.  Though both Cathy and I were only there for a short time, we enjoyed visiting with him and listening to him reminisce about old times.  Some of his memories were so sad, while others were funny.  I left California wishing I could be around him more and hoping he will really be able to come visit us in Iowa.

I grew up in the Central Valley area of California.  When people hear I'm from California, I know they have much more glamorous images in mind than the following pictures taken from my rental car as I drove from Manteca (where I was born) to Tracy (where my Grandpa lives).

There are a lot of fields.  I believe this is a baby almond orchard.

This is an older almond orchard.

Everywhere we drove when I was a child, we passed dozens of almond and peach orchards.  We knew it was spring by the white blossoms on the trees.

Other than almond orchards, there are a lot of vineyards and A LOT of dairies.  In fact, my first night there, my sister and I stayed at a hotel in Lathrop.  As I pulled into Lathrop in the middle of the night, I was assaulted by that unmistakable dairy smell.  I commented to Cathy, "Lathrop reeks of cow manure," and she matter-of-factly replied, "Yea, that's what Escalon smells like too.  Don't you remember that?"

I do remember the smell of the dairies, but I don't remember it always having such a strong smell.  Cathy also jokingly reminded me that when we were younger and went on trips, we always knew we were getting closer to home by the smell.  Well, even though it burned my nostrils, it was good to be home.

Another thing that reminds me of California is the oleander bushes.  They are everywhere--lining roads and freeways, decorating yards and places of business.  Below is the driveway to the community where my grandpa lives.  This sight brings me fond memories of visiting him as a child.

Though my visit was for a somber purpose, I did enjoy myself while I was there.  Cathy and I had a good time together.  We visited the Ghiradelli factory outlet and shared memories driving around Manteca.

I was also able to stay a couple of nights with my best childhood friend, Karitza.  We have been friends since we were nine years old.  She came to church wearing a very pretty pink dress.  When she sat by me in Primary, her first words were, "I hate this dress.  My mom made me wear it."

Karitza and I have had some good times, and twenty four years later, she is still among the people I am most comfortable around.  My dad dropped by on Sunday afternoon when taking my grandpa to visit a friend in the hospital.  He used to be Karitza's home teacher (and she used to be scared of him).

Karitza's parents dropped by on Sunday night.  It was so good to see them too.  Rick and I watched a movie this weekend and one of the quotes was something like, "It's not the place that matters (and I would add how it smells), but the people who are in it."  That is true of my visit to California.

You know what's even better about going home than seeing old places and visiting with old friends?  It's knowing that after all these years those good friends are living good lives--trying to do what's right, raising their children to be exceptional individuals, sharing their beliefs and values with others, and continuing to be the quality people that they are.  All in all, it was a good trip.