My Weekend Adventure in Rainier... (REVISED and EXPANDED)

My weekend adventure in Rainier started out with a phone call from my dad last Thursday night. He was in Nashville, about to leave for Louisiana, not due back in Oregon till Monday night. It seems my mom had taken a pretty bad spill on their front porch while attempting to water some hanging plants, and my uncle Greg, her brother, had taken her to the hospital. Dad was understandably freaking out, scrambling to change his plans to get back home as soon as possible. I told him to try to stay calm, and that we’d know more after she’d been checked out, and there was no reason to do anything until then. He called back an hour or so later with an update: her shoulder had been dislocated in the fall. They’d successfully popped it back into place, drugged her up pretty good, and sent her home. Another uncle, Tim, was spending the night keeping an eye on her. Dad was still determined to come home early.

After a fairly sleepless night in which I wrestled with my conscience, I decided en route to work that I should probably be a good son and get my ass to Rainier. Karin lives in Nashville and Jill lives in Louisiana, so I’m the only kid around. About half a mile from work, I turned the car around and headed back home. I threw a few things into a bag, called my mom to let her know I was on my way (she protested… weakly), and headed out. I stopped for a few groceries on the way: 7-Up per mom’s request, miscellaneous snacks, and a DVD (The X-files: Revelations, a collection of eight episodes that supposedly connect to the new movie somehow; it was only $14.99 and it came with a free ticket to the movie).

Upon my arrival, I discovered that my uncle Tim had left something of a mess in the kitchen, which I dutifully cleaned. Mom was in bed, still fairly loopy, so I let her rest. I did a bit of laundry, and then watched a couple X-files episodes (“The Post-Modern Prometheus” and “Milagro”). A new Chinese place had evidently opened up in town called Jiu Chang, and mom wanted some, so off I went for take-out. And I must admit, it was pretty good, especially for a town like Rainier (I judge my Chinese on three criteria: house fried rice, General Tso chicken, and Hot & Sour soup. All three, happily, were above average). I discovered half a bottle of wine in the kitchen (apparently left over from Karin’s recent visit), which I took the liberty of finishing (I also spied three unopened bottles of wine, which I found myself eyeballing periodically). Mom offered to call around to see if anyone local (uncles, cousins, friends, whatever) could come relieve me, but I said no… I’d spend the night. Once she was tucked in for the night, I headed across the river to Longview to use my free ticket for the X-files movie (I Want to Believe). It was…. um, okay (I’ll review it in more detail in a separate blog entry). Back at the house, I helped myself to a bottle of wine as I watched another X-files episode (“Bad Blood”), then headed off to bed.

The next morning I made breakfast (fried ham, eggs, toast), then went to do some more laundry…only to discover that their dryer had died! I flipped the breaker switch a few times, checked the connections, etc. Nothing (sorry mom, but those stacks of laundry will still be waiting for you once you’re up and around again). Mom left my uncle Tim a voicemail message, hoping he’d come to relieve me so I could get back home. A few hours later, I watched a couple more X-files episodes (“The Host” and “Beyond the Sea”) while she slept some more. Uncle Tim called back at some point, and here’s (more or less verbatim) how the conversation went:

Tim: Hey, this is Tim.
Me: Hey Tim, how are you?
Tim: Oh, not bad… for being sick.
Me: Oh, are you sick?
Tim: Yeah, I'm not feeling too good.
Me: Oh, I'm sorry.
Tim: I'm sure glad you came down.
Me: Oh?
Tim: Yeah, you know me, I was never very good with responsibility.
Me: Uh-huh….?
Tim: Your mom called and left a message.
Me: Right.
Tim: I'm sure she was just calling to let me know she was fine.
Me: Uh, yeah, she's doing okay.
Tim: Okay, well, I'll talk to you later.

Yeah. Good ol’ Tim. Let me tell you a little bit about Tim. Tim smoked way too much pot in the 60’s, apparently frying enough of his brain to make him more or less useless in a societal context. He’s spent the last thirty years living out in the woods, in various trailers and other hovel-like dwellings, occasionally working for cash (helping Uncle Greg with construction projects or whatever), and basically living off the grid in a perpetual hermitlike state. Anyway, he was tossing up every conceivable roadblock to prevent me from even asking him to come over to watch Mom, so maybe he’s craftier than I realized. In any case, it became clear that I’d be spending another night.

So I headed over to Longview again to get a few things. At the local Safeway, a big hulking denim-clad caveman in huge hiking boots (his shoppin’ boots, I’m guessing?) approached me on the snack aisle. “Hey,” he asked, “didn’t you used ta work at the cannery in Astoria?” His head was cocked strangely to one side, presumably due to neck strain from bearing the weight of his acromegalic cranium. I shook my head slowly no. He looked confused for a moment, then smiled, showing all five of his teeth. “Guess I gotchya confused wif someone else.” He then walked away, muttering something unintelligible. After I checked out, I headed straight to a nearby bar for a Bloody Mary. I needed it.

Just down the straight from my parents’ house, some yokel was working on his truck on the side of the road, and his wife/cousin/whatever was standing in the center of the street, in her robe and slippers, smoking a cigarette. She stood there, staring at me as my car approached. I slowed down, but she didn’t seem interested in moving. In fact, there was a strange defiance in her eyes. Christ, was this lady really gonna play chicken with a moving car? As I got close, she finally meandered slowly out of the way. Both of them glared at me as I passed. It’s a fucking STREET, you inbred gophers. Go stand on the sidewalk (or better yet, in that dead appliance graveyard you call a lawn) where you belong. I swear, Rainier must have originally been part of Arkansas, but some unimaginable geological catastrophe moved it to Oregon. Maybe God, fed up with all the inbreeding and miscellaneous other soulless debauchery, threw it toward the ocean in disgust, but underestimated the distance. I dunno.

Back at the house, I made mom a sandwich, heated up some Chinese leftovers for myself, and watched another X-files episode (“Clyde Bruckman’s Final Repose”). I then set about the daunting task of uploading a copious amount of pictures taken at Long Beach the previous weekend (199 in all!), which can be viewed here. I then baked some chocolate chip cookies, which mom ate for dinner along with a big bowl of peppermint ice cream (hey, the poor lady’s laid up, so she can have whatever she wants, right?). Once she was in bed for the night, I watched another X-files episode (“Memento Mori”) and popped open another bottle of wine. I stood outside on the front porch as I drank, looking out over the town, the river, and Longview beyond. The opposite shore was lined with blinking lights and factories, columns of smoke rising up into the darkness. I looked down the street in the direction of the yokels’ place and wondered what they were up to (probably working on the next generation of inbreds behind closed doors, cans of Hamm’s littered all around, Jerry Springer flickering on the TV). In the darkness I took a bad step and almost tumbled down the stairs. I figured it was time to turn in for the night.

The next morning, mom was up before me, watching the news out in the living room. After I made some coffee, she sent me out to get breakfast-to-go from The Cornerstone, a little diner nearby, and the Sunday paper. We ate and chatted, and she was clearly feeling quite a bit better. She talked to a few cousins, and relief was on the way. I left around 11:30, and arrived back at home around 1:00, more tired than I should’ve been (maybe I was crashing after the three cups of coffee I’d had with breakfast, I dunno). I spent the afternoon on the couch, fading in and out. Mom called at some point to let me know that her best friend Janice was there with her, and that her cousin Becky would soon be there to spend the night. She was covered. The torch had been passed.

I’m a good son, damn it.