So it was over the San Joaquin Valley and through the Coast Range, to the Trautwein's house we went. They live in Montecito ('burb of Santa Barbara), the part that didn't burn to a crisp last month. Diana, Tom's sister, is the associate pastor of Montecito Covenant Church, 15 families of which lost their homes in the benign-sounding Tea Fire. She and husband Dick hosted the annual Gold-Christmas gathering this year. We were extra-careful with the candles.We left late Saturday afternoon and landed in a motel near the aromatic Harris Ranch on I-5. Don't get me started.
Next day, since we had extra time to travel the rest of the distance in order to arrive by the appointed time, we decided to hit a back road or two in order to drive through Birthplace of Champions--Taft, California. 61+ years ago, a certain family welcomed a new arrival they called Tom in that very place. Then they got the bleep out of there. For good reason. Tom's dad had been teaching at a little community college in town (still composed, as far as we could tell, entirely of portable buildings--as if it were just waiting for a better offer to go somewhere else at a moment's notice, as the Golds had done 61 years earlier). This is the first time since leaving at around two months of age, that Tom had been back to see his birthplace. And it will probably be the last. I know there must be a perfectly good reason for Taft. There must be. But to the casual observer, it's a little bleak. It's nestled in the southwestern San Joaquin Valley surrounded by oil derricks which give the air a special essence and provide quite the, uh, industrial aesthetic. Nothing like an oil town for scenic beauty.
Anyway, we spent a wonderful afternoon with Tom's mom, brother, Ken, Diana and Dick, their kids and their kids' kids...a way fun bunch! There's Eric and Rachel and their daughter, Grace. And Joy and Marcus with their boys, Wesley, Colby and Griffin. And Lisa with her boys, Ben, Luke and Joel. It was their dad/husband, Mark, who passed away a few month ago. We missed him. Dylan and Rachel were unable to make it, unfortunately.
We all ate ourselves silly surrounded by more festive decor and tasty goodies in one place than should be legal anywhere! It was a beehive of fa la la the whole day! Some were playing games or making gingerbread structures of various sorts, while others were playing with new toys, including navigating a radio-controlled airplane through the house when least expected.
Saying our goodbyes, we headed back north in the evening, staying in Paso Robles for the night before continuing on, feeling no particular need to retrace our path through Taft. We arrived home mid-afternoon. There had been some rain to wash away some of the snow, and it has continued off and on since.
It's Christmas Eve and Dylan and Rachel are on their way from San Francisco and should arrive within the hour. And it's supposed to snow tomorrow. Merry Christmas!
