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Herb Benham: It's off to Berkeley for our youngest and into an irrigation ditch for yours truly
| Saturday, Jul 19 2008 3:30 PM
Last Updated: Saturday, Jul 19 2008 3:30 PM
Last week we traveled north so Thomas, our youngest, could go through orientation at Cal.
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We left Bakersfield at 3 p.m. Thursday. I don’t know if you remember, but, at 3 p.m. Thursday, the temperature was 111 degrees. One hundred and eleven and nary a cloud in the sky.
We settled into the comfortable air- conditioned car. We had car snacks, cold water and eight good bluegrass CDs. We were set.
Ninety-nine north and 46 west. A half mile after turning onto 46, the comfortable air-conditioned car lost power and glided to a stop in the dirt next to an irrigation ditch that fronted an almond orchard. Subsequent efforts to restart the car failed.
There is a certain folksy quality to my relationship with cars; however 111 degrees wrings the charm right out of folksy. A year can go by without incident and then, suddenly, the car barks when it reaches the Kern County line and refuses to go a step farther.
Thomas was leaving town to parts beyond. Clearly his father was not. Not unless that journey was a pilgrimage on foot.
Without going into the ugly details, which included my long-suffering wife and Thomas fetching a rental car while I waited for the tow truck, at one point, hatless, shadeless, clearly a man without prospects, I eyed the clear, cool water in the irrigation ditch. What the heck. I was a man without pretensions.
I jumped in the ditch with all my clothes on. It was wonderful. The mud felt squishy in my toes, just like it did when I was a kid.
We reached the Bay Area and Berkeley without further incident. This was a good thing. Ours is a 29-year marriage, but a marriage can only take so much folksiness.
The temperature in the east bay was in the high 60s. A 30-degree swing. Plus there were a lot of trees that no one can remember planting.
Three of my brothers and one of my sisters live in the Bay Area. It’s not hard to see why. It’s taken 20 years and lots of sessions on the couch, but I’m almost over my resentment.
We dropped Thomas off at 11 p.m. at his dorm room. He was staying in Unit 2. As he headed for his room, talking to a new friend, I had the sense that while our evening was ending, his was just beginning.
Thomas’ mother was good. She refrained from calling him over the next 36 hours. She was dying to, but she held herself back.
Thomas wasn’t the only one going through orientation. His parents were too. They had to get oriented to their son living four hours away in the land of cool and green.
We picked him up at noon on Saturday. He had learned some fight songs, gone to a frat party and met some pretty cool dudes from Southern California. He had also signed up for a couple of classes.
“I didn’t get into the meditation class,” he said. “It was filled up.”
Sorry to hear that. What will you be taking?
“I signed up for “Americans in the Global Forest,” he said.
I almost said something but I didn’t. I want to go back to college too. So does his mother.
We can hide in the forest and if we don’t make a sound, he’ll never know we are there.
Opinions expressed are those of Herb Benham, not The Californian.