In the strangest of places

I wrote this elsewhere and want to keep it here as well. Comment in response to a friend's share about their father's death in a plane crash. Might edit later.

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My dad was an adventurer. My memories of him include sailing, flying in a 4-seater Cessna, and motorcycle racing in the desert. When I was 7, he flew some friends to Oregon for a fishing trip at the mouth of the Klamath. His plane went down just north of the airport and all four passengers died. For years I puzzled over what could have happened--the NTSB report shows no clear cause. I thought it was a steep mountain range, there was speculation about whether the engine had stopped before the plane went down, I imagined he had a long fall and time to think about the family he was leaving behind. But in my 50s, a friend who had grown up in the area told me she thought she could connect me with the family who owns the land where the crash happened. Suddenly the mystery became accessible. I contacted the current patriarch of the land, someone my friend knew in high school. He agreed to meet with me and tour the spot. From the moment I got in his truck, the story just spilled out of him in a torrent. He was 16 at the time. He didn't see the actual crash, but he knew of folks who did. He and his dad rushed up to the site; they were the second to arrive but there was nothing to be done. He described what he saw, something like you see in movies when a bomb hits a tank, burning bodies in a completely engulfed plane. I knew that much, because my mom had told me that officials had returned to her a belt buckle with burnt edges, his wedding ring, and not much else. (She didn't look at his bones in the casket.) Anyway, once this man had told me of his experience, he took me to the actual crash site which was now a field of short trees. The beautiful hilltop overlooks the mouth of the river and the little airport on the other side. There were wildflowers, birds singing, hawks cawing, gentle breeze blowing, and I could almost hear music in my head as I took in the view. Across the knoll was a stand of taller trees, a large rock between them with a plaque embossed in memory of the man's parents, whose ashes are also scattered there. So it's a lovely, peaceful memorial site for his family and also mine. I found comfort in that. Also I was glad to be able to finally picture what had happened. The man told me that most pilots take off from the tiny airport (which I also visited) and angle out to the west and over the ocean to begin a southward journey. For whatever reason, my dad angled east over the low mountains, and most likely a combination of heavy load and winds just... kept them from quite clearing the ridge. Just ever so slightly too low, too heavy, they must have seen it coming but there was no way to turn in time. And so it goes. Thank you for asking.

Oh, awesome, San Francisco's median home price just hit $937,500. Imagine the press when we hit a million. *confetti*

Oh, MAN. I wish I could see Prince at the DNA lounge. It holds 800 people. He played Sometimes It Snows In April *AND* Housequake on the 23rd, what?!?!? How are people getting into these shows?

Google is blocking me from most LJ pages, my local news sites, and other stuff with a malware warning. I think it's a temporary mixup with some ad servers but I had to close several of your posts that I wanted to comment on. Maybe later.

This blog post describes my feelings on the subject precisely.  I love it when that happens.

 http://thereseoneill.blogspot.com/2013/01/ma-joad.html

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Bear with me. In the movie Grapes of Wrath, the Joad family has to leave their home, where they're starving, in hopes of finding work in California. Ma Joad is in her room packing...which mostly consists of burning her keepsakes and treasures cuz there is no room to take them with. 

Then there comes a moment when she finds these old ear baubles in her treasure box, and her face lights up when she sees them, and you can tell the memories they bring back to her, the dances and the boys, and her youth and beauty and joy. She holds them up to her ear in a smoky little mirror with a smile.

And then her smile freezes, and fades. The look that replaces it is...so...hurt. Heartbroken. Cuz her reflection. A fat, tired woman, aged from a life of toil in the dirt. Not the kind of woman who can wear those baubles anymore. 




And that damn scene makes me want to cry. And when I put up earrings to my face, I feel like Ma Joad. I look a little like her. They contradict me, draw the eye to my puff and chub and wrinkle. Next to their sparkle I look tired, dull, old and yes, fat. It's too damn sad. Just too sad. 

That's why I don't wear earrings. Damn you, Steinbeck..

I really really love that Obama did an AMA on Reddit.

My iphone has been jacked up for a few months now and I've been putting off taking it to get fixed. Actually I brought it to the genius bar and they didn't know what the problem was or how to fix it, and I was just out of warranty so there was no replacing the phone. The problem was that I could make calls, receive calls and record voice memos just fine, but no sound would record on videos, and I couldn't talk on speakerphone or facetime. The genius bar guy told me there is only one mic so it was probably a software problem. I did a full restore and there was no change. Grrr.

I googled and googled and found all kinds of people having lots of problems with iphone sound, but not this problem. And then FINALLY I found this video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mrSnRnMg0Es

AND IT WORKED!!!!!!!!!!

I would love to know if that little tiny hole is actually a second mic, and if so, why the genius bar people don't know about it. But anyway, I am STOKED. No sound on video is not a good thing for a parent. Before this problem, I was using my phone to film my kids all the time.

So this is my PSA in case you have an iphone and you happen to run into the same problem.

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CRYSTAL CASTLES. If I could find a working console, SO MANY QUARTERS.

Also Centipede.

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