Lawrence

Scotch on the Rocks
Originally uploaded by kcline.

Hi everybody. A few weeks ago I asked if you could spare some good thoughts for my Boompah's dad. Today's blog is in memory of him.

First, a few notes about my Boompah, who, for those not in the know, is my step-dad. He doesn't read this blog, so I can say nice things about him and he won't be embarassed, as he would if I said stuff like this to him. He's been in my life for somewhere in the vicinity of twenty years, although for the first whole bunch, my mom was very protective of my time with her, so I didn't see Boompah much. Nevertheless, he always had something for me for Easter, Saint Patrick's Day, Valentine's Day... He still does that: I'm thirty, and I got a bar of fancy dark chocolate for Halloween. He has always been really thoughtful of me, and I don't mean that all the stuff that's great about him is material stuff that he gives me, but consider this: every year for Christmas and my birthday, he manages to find presents for me that I like, that fit, that look good on me, that I'm interested in, that I usually haven't heard of. In short, he's a really good gift-giver, which, if you have anyone in your life who ISN'T one, you know what that means. It means they know you, they pay attention, they understand who you really are. He always saves articles for me that he thinks I might be interested in. He has practically adopted a friend of mine in his affection (Monkeygirl). He even e-mailed me last night because he found something interesting on the web. Anyway, part of the reason I'm so sad about Lawrence is because I really love my Boompah, and I saw him out walking in the fog this morning at 7:30 (sounds like poetic fiction, but I really did). I know he must be really hurting, and I'm sorry for that.

On to Lawrence. Every time I have ever seen Lawrence in my life, he has been having a good time. Isn't that nice? He knows everyone in his little delta town, partly because he ran a bar there for years and years. He has scores of friends, and everywhere in town, people would greet him, happy to see him. I suspect that "birthday dinner," an occasion when the family and friends got together for dinner every July to eat, drink, and be merry, was a real highlight for him. He liked a good joke, a good drink, and a pretty girl. He was always delighted with the big-breasted girlie stickers that Boompah would find for his birthday cards, chuckling to himself as he read the cards. He always bought everyone dinner on that night. He was quiet about the gifts he received, preferring not even to open them in front of people if he could avoid it. I remember Mom telling me that he wouldn't even drink an expensive bottle of Scotch (I think it was) that they gave him one year, because it was too extravagant. But when it came to sharing things with others, he always did. I remember worrying the first few times that I went to Rio Vista to do things with Boompah's family that I would be an interloper -- Boompah's girlfriend's teenage daughter -- but as soon as I got there, my fears were allayed. It was always clear that I was welcome, and the general feeling was "the more the merrier." I think the first time I went down there, Mom had made a chocolate cake with the Portuguese flag on it, and Lawrence was delighted. Once, at Christmas at Lawrence's, I mentioned that I wanted to find the Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass "Whipped Cream and Other Delights" album. Lawrence had it, and insisted that I take it.

While I am really sorry I will never see Lawrence again, and upset for both my Boompah and my mom, who loved Lawrence, too, I am relieved in one sense. For the past month or so, Lawrence hasn't been out on the town, hasn't had a drink, hasn't mingled with his friends, hasn't been greeted by affectionate waitresses, hasn't had a decent steak dinner, likely hasn't heard a joke or played with his grandson. He's been in a hospital bed, at times unsure why he was there or what was going on. He was in pain. He was unhappy. He kept asking to go home. Well, Lawrence, you're home now. "À nossa saúde!" Tchau, adeus.

(In Portugese, a toast meaning "to our health" and goodbye.)