Something That Happened.

On my birthday I received a card from my stepmom L__'s father. I was surprised to receive the card, which included cash and the signature, "Grandad J__". The card, and especially the signature, touched me. I've gotten to know L__'s dad over the past few years, having surprised him and his late wife J__ at their house in Morro Bay one time a few years ago on my way back from a solo road trip to Santa Cruz, and since then on several occasions with either my girlfriend or with my dad and stepmom. At the time of my initial visit I hadn't seen L__'s parents in years, probably since I was a teenager. My dad and L__ had mentioned that I should stop by and say hello to my stepmom's parents the next time I went on one of my famously long drives, an offer I would usually file away but probably never act on; but when I found myself cruising through Morro Bay during a beautiful sunset on my drive homeward, something compelled me to stop at a gas station and see if I could locate them. I found a payphone and dialed 411 to see if I could get their number, was surprised to find it listed, and the next thing I knew I was enjoying coffee and cookies with newly-reacquainted friends.

A few years later, L__'s stepmom passed on, after succumbing to one of many strokes. J__, now in his eighties, lives alone. He collects cans every day, which he donates to the Ronald McDonald House charity, he loves to share a good joke, and he travels as often as he can. The Price Is Right gives him some daily comfort, but he is still lonely and misses his wife. He's Scottish and has lived most of his life in the U.S. These details are superficial and tell you nothing about the man, and I don't know why I mention them; he's simply been a man who has always been kind to me, like a grandad, and now I'm really glad I pulled off the highway that quiet fall evening.