A Memorial Day to remember
My son was home, a civilian, for Memorial Day for the first time in years. His hair is now long enough to stand up when he gets out of bedâ€”or rather, out of sleeping bagâ€”and he no longer has to struggle to keep from modifying every noun with â€œfuckinâ€™.â€
The annual Corralitos Padres Pancake Breakfast (and, donâ€™t forget, the craft and bake sale at the Womenâ€™s Club Country Store) was, alas, postponed for a week because of the number of fire trucks and evacuees in the town square (or rather, triangle) so instead of meeting up under the redwoods and buying the ticket to be traded for a paper plate and rolled-up plastic fork and knife, we met here. My sister and her family (those on the Left coast), my brother and his, my motherâ€™s uncle and three of his six plus more grandchildren than I managed to say hi to. I cooked pancakes. And my son was here to eat them.
Happy Memorial Day, everyone.
And although weâ€™re still smoky here and the flames still lick the ridges, theyâ€™re beating them back. One lone news van remained in town last night, Eureka Canyon Road is open again, and the Boy Scouts were wandering around looking for business. A sure sign of approaching normality was that the Corralitos Market and Sausage Company closed at their usual Sunday time, 5:00, instead of staying open to serve firefighters and evacuees until 11 or midnight.