MEMORY LANE

Yesterday, Larry, his brother Casey, and I took a walk down memory lane.

When my brother died, Casey suggested saving a small amount of his ashes and leaving them at Granada Park, where we all had spent much of our childhood.

The bulk were spread off a boat in the ocean in May. The next day, we took some to my father’s grave. (Some of my mother's were spread there when she died in 2011.) Ron’s friend, Chris, was willed his Schwinn chrome-plated Paramount bike with the promise he’d take some of Ron’s ashes to Newport Beach.

So, we only had the final tablespoon left to dispose of.

We drove up in the morning. My, how everything has changed! Without our GPS confirming our location, we’d have thought we were in a different town.

But the park remains beautiful—perhaps even more so than when we were kids. The charming entrances are still there as is the big hill. The trees are large, providing lots of shade.

Larry and I wrote about the park in the book based on Ron’s original idea, Dominic Drive. Because the book was set in the 1950s and ’60s, we had to include it in the story.

The playground has changed completely since our youth.

Gone is the big double metal slide where we burned the backs of our legs in the summertime. The merry-go-round, which we used to spin as fast as we could, is no more. The equipment there today looks much safer, and I’m sure the current batch of kids enjoy playing on it as much as we did.

We hiked to the top of the hill. The gym looks bigger (and maybe it is). They have sprinkled covered eating areas throughout the park. They looked cool and inviting. Definitely an improvement.

Casey suggested we use the area above the new pool, still in the same position as the old one had been, but much newer and nicer.

Swimming lessons were in progress. Somehow, this felt perfect since Ron learned to swim in the old pool here. We liked the idea of having a separate kiddie pool instead of the big Olympic-sized one.

Once we picked the spot, Casey took the small container and spread half in the grass.

Then I sprinkled the rest.

We had brought some blue daisies like the ones we had dropped into the ocean with his ashes. For a day or two, they will mark the spot.

After we strolled around the park, we took a drive around the Midwick Tract, where we lived as children. Most of the houses look well-kept, and most have been added on to. A few are gone, and some new ones have taken their place.

Larry and Casey lived on Hitchcock Drive. The southern end is now blocked off. We used to be able to drive directly onto Garvey Avenue, but people began to use the drive through the tract as a shortcut. They went far too fast and endangered others on the streets. Closing it made sense.

The old Gully, mentioned in the book, has been filled in, and new buildings are being constructed there.

The parkway trees in front of my old house and the two on either side are gone. They were lovely liquid ambers. From our kitchen window, we watched them change colors each year. I was sad they were missing.

Since it was lunchtime, we capped our visit to the past at Twohey’s in its new location in South Pasadena. This building appears smaller than the old one, and all the hard surfaces make it a bit noisier. They do have quite a bit of outdoor seating, however. Casey ordered the original “Stink-O” burger. He said it tasted exactly the same as he remembered.

We enjoyed our visit to the past. Contrary to the popular notion, you can go home again as long as you are prepared for changes and surprises.

ASHES TO ASHES

 In his will, my brother, Ron Lund, had insisted on no memorial service. He wanted to be cremated, and he wanted his ashes to be spread off Newport Beach. Because he died at the end of August of 2020, it really wasn’t possible to do much at that time.

Of course, we had his body cremated as he had requested. We brought the ashes home, and they resided here for months.

Even though he was quite specific about having no service, I felt he might like the idea of a get-together for family members and friends to share their favorite stories about him. (Most of them had a few.)

Early on, I looked toward his birthday on May 29 for a luncheon at our house. Fortunately, restrictions were being lifted by the end of April, so an outdoor get-together seemed possible.

Our daughter came from Texas for the first time in a year and a half. The day after she arrived, we took Ron’s ashes out on a boat, along with a few of his closest friends.

Once we cleared the harbor, the weather wasn’t cooperative, and the surf was rough. The captain said we could only go out only a short way beyond the harbor entrance. So Larry read a poem from his book, Lakeview Park:

Bury me not near the old oak tree,

In a prison tomb, dirt over me.

But leave my spirit to swim free,

And cast my ashes out to sea.

To rise like mist in the morning sun

And ride the swells till the day is done.

Somehow, this seemed appropriate for Ron. Then he sprinkled the ashes, and we tossed blue daisies on the water.

Afterward, we all went to the Harbor Grill for dinner.

L-R: Bernie & Bob Schwenck, Casey Collins, Jim Cocores, Bud Legg, Robert Legg, Larry & Lorna Collins,
Kimberly Romero, Maribeth Seale

Then on the 29^th, as planned, we had the luncheon at our house. We certainly enjoyed seeing everyone, and they shared some wonderful memories. We laughed and cried a little and talked about Ron. We also had copies of Dominic Drive for everyone.

Kim, me, and Lucy Collins

Childhood friends: Sherry Van Clief Cowell, me, Jim Welsh, John Anderson.

Stephany Sherlock and me

Some of Ron’s friends couldn’t make it, but several came from a long distance just to share their reminiscences. I appreciated their effort.

I had felt badly that we couldn’t spread his ashes off Newport Beach as he had requested, but his best friend, Bud Legg, sent me this note:

I think Ron would have been pleased. Whenever Ron and I would be over that way, we always drove over by Doheny. It was a favorite spot where we would sit and lie to each other about the "perfect" ride we caught there. We had a million true stories about the fun we had. He is happy about where you placed him. I'm happy because he will always be there, it will always be 1965, and we will always have our stories. Will, I'm off to work on the ‘46 woodie. I think I'll take him with me and listen to him bitch about the work you're doing.

I loved this. It made me laugh, and I felt good about where Ron had ended up.
We also reserved some of his ashes.

One part went with his friend, Chris. Ron left his chrome-plated Schwinn Paramount bike to Chris with the agreement that he would ride it down the beach at Newport and spread a few ashes in the sand.

Another part went with us to Forest Lawn. We had spread some of my mother’s ashes over my dad’s grave with Ron. So, we added some of his. Now he is there together with our parents.

Finally, my brother-in-love suggested we take some up to Granada Park in Alhambra and spread them there. We have yet to do this, so one small container awaits disposition.

I decided years ago that I loved the idea of cremation. It brought back the image of “ashes to ashes, dust to dust.” When our time comes, we have requested the same disposition.

What is your preference?