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Proxy desert hike
Oct. 17th, 2005 10:51 pmGlenn spent this past weekend in southern California going on memorial hikes for his aunt Phyllis. I never met Phyl, but I heard about her all the time. Phyl was bicycling in Switzerland, in Italy, through Sonoma County. She was hiking in Yosemite, in Denali, in the Olympic Peninsula. She was going to visit us once, but she fell and broke her wrist on the hike before coming here. She called us from the hospital and chatted for a memorable hour. She sounded like her sister, my sweet mother-in-law, but with the extra vigor one would expect from the energetic sister.
People called her a force of nature, in that way that combines affection and irritation. I expect that in my old age people will say that about me, unless I get less ornery and demanding.
Her sisters expected her to be the long-lived one, but she surprised everyone by having a massive heart attack and dying immediately this past summer, in the midst of running errands in her busy, satisfying, well-organized life.
She wanted her ashes scattered in Joshua Tree National Park, along her favorite hike, near the ashes of her second spouse (she was much married; Glenn thinks she married five times, but he's not sure), but in the years since he died, ash-scattering regulations have changed. The hikers ended up taking the memorial hike in Joshua Tree on Saturday and scattering the ashes on Sunday in a state park nearby, where they were able to get a permit. Neither of her sisters were able to travel to California for the occasion, and they wouldn't have been able to go on the hike had they gone, but representative children went for them. Glenn said there were 20 people on the challenging hike in Joshua Tree, and 27 on the easier ash-scattering hike.
Glenn's daughters were fond of their great-aunt. They'd spent time with her when they were children and teenagers, though they hadn't seen her since they've been adults. Glenn's older daughter and her daughter went down to California to go on the memorial hikes and have that experience of family en masse, that experience of seeing many faces with features similar to one's own, but shifted, that experience of people one doesn't know immediately recognizing that one belongs with them in a way that is simultaneously deep and superficial. Deep, because it carries a freight of culture that isn't accessible any other way, and superficial, because that culture is other people's lives, not one's own.
People called her a force of nature, in that way that combines affection and irritation. I expect that in my old age people will say that about me, unless I get less ornery and demanding.
Her sisters expected her to be the long-lived one, but she surprised everyone by having a massive heart attack and dying immediately this past summer, in the midst of running errands in her busy, satisfying, well-organized life.
She wanted her ashes scattered in Joshua Tree National Park, along her favorite hike, near the ashes of her second spouse (she was much married; Glenn thinks she married five times, but he's not sure), but in the years since he died, ash-scattering regulations have changed. The hikers ended up taking the memorial hike in Joshua Tree on Saturday and scattering the ashes on Sunday in a state park nearby, where they were able to get a permit. Neither of her sisters were able to travel to California for the occasion, and they wouldn't have been able to go on the hike had they gone, but representative children went for them. Glenn said there were 20 people on the challenging hike in Joshua Tree, and 27 on the easier ash-scattering hike.
Glenn's daughters were fond of their great-aunt. They'd spent time with her when they were children and teenagers, though they hadn't seen her since they've been adults. Glenn's older daughter and her daughter went down to California to go on the memorial hikes and have that experience of family en masse, that experience of seeing many faces with features similar to one's own, but shifted, that experience of people one doesn't know immediately recognizing that one belongs with them in a way that is simultaneously deep and superficial. Deep, because it carries a freight of culture that isn't accessible any other way, and superficial, because that culture is other people's lives, not one's own.
