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May. 5th, 2002 11:15 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
davidschrothLast weekend we made a trip to California for the 33rd Annual Manzanar pilgrimage. Polonia's family (or most of her family) was interned at Manzanar during World War II. What remains of the family has taken, in the last three years, to doing a combined Manzanar pilgrimage and family reunion. At last year's pilgrimage, Polonia met a cousin who had been estranged from the California branch of her family for her entire life. They hit it off very well, with the result that they would make the pilgrimage this year, and bring their spouses along as well. Our itinerary had us flying of of the Twin Cities at 7:00 am, driving down to San Pedro to pick up Polonia's cousin Nancy Crawford, and then driving into Los Angeles to meet Polonia's brother and his family for lunch. Then the entire crew would drive up to Lone Pine. The next day would have us attending the pilgrimage, and on Sunday we would drive back to Los Angeles. The red-eye out of LAX would get us back to the Twin Cities early Monday morning, and then left would pick up as normal.
Polonia took off from work early on Thursday to get ready for the trip. I worked my usual hours, and came home to find Polonia doing laundry and not yet started packing. Normal for the trips we take together. We had our usual pre-trip fight, and I was packed by 2:00 am. At which point we both went to bed - me packed, Polonia not yet started to pack. I got up at 4:00, called for a taxi to get us at 5:30, and woke Polonia up. 5:30 arrives, along with the taxi - Polonia is not yet packed. We arrive at the airport, and discover that the flight's departure is delayed by an hour - one can always count on NWA. Arriving late in LA, Polonia decides that the rental car just won't do - another 30 minutes spent getting a suitable vehicle. And then a leisurely trip down the back roads of Polonia's memory, as we drive by all the places she lived in after she left home. Large chunks of the Southern California landscape have been torn down and replaced with extremely ugly new buildings. This improves the general mood immensely - not. We finally arrive at Nancy's place in San Pedro, where she lives and paints. Load up the car, touch base with Conrad (Polonia's brother) via cell phone, and then its off to the Japanese American Museum in Los Angeles, where there is no sign of the Novack family. Eventually, rendezvous is achieved, and we lunch at an eminently forgettable restaurant in Little Tokyo. Eventually, all involved get back in their vehicles and head off to the High Desert.
We arrive at Lone Pine, check into the motel, and hook up with cousin Yen and his wife Patricia. Both of whom are, as advertised, interesting and fun people. We eat, we talk, we crash.
The next day we drive north from Lone Pine to Manzanar. The guard shack still guards the entrance, and they're restoring the auditorium. Everything else was demolished after the concentration camp was closed - all that remain are the concrete slabs that served as the foundations of the buildings. We attend the ceremonies, and I wander off, camera in hand, to attempt to capture some of the spirit of the place on film. I don't know if I succeeded, but I definitely captured a hell of a sunburn while I'm wandering around. After the ceremony, the plan was that we would meet for a picnic lunch in a park up the road in Independence (why yes, Manzanar was situated between Lone Pine and Independence - who says Amurricans don't do irony?). The wife of one of Polonia's cousins had made a picnic lunch for all involved (neither her cousin nor his wife were able to make the pilgrimage). Almost all of us met at the appointed spot - but where's Conrad and Conrad's family? Gone, as it turns out, to the McDonald's in Lone Pine - apparently that flavor of ethnic food is not to their taste. *I* thought is was pretty damn good - certainly better fat/salt/cardboard they got at McDonalds. Chacun a son gout.
Eventually, we ended up back at the motel. Eventually, cousin Yen left two and one-half Krispy Kreme donuts in the hotel room that Polonia and Nancy and I were occupying. Eventually, we ended up with Nancy, Polonia, Conrad, Kim, Yen, Patricia, and nieces Danica and Kristen in the room. All drawn by the lure of Krispy Kreme. And eventually, conversation devolved into the usual family discussion cum fight. Polonia left mad, Kim was left crying, and I'm sure the nieces were left hoping that none of this was genetic.
The next day, people are on their best behavior, leaves are taken, and eventually we head south. After an uneventful trip, we end up at the house of Polonia's cousin Chris and his wife Faye (the lady who made the splendid picnic lunch). Our original plans to dine at Mishima are trumped by Faye's plan to cook us dinner. While dinner is prepared, we decamp to the cemetery to visit the graves of Polonia's grandmother and her father. We find the markers, leave flowers, and return to the feast that Faye prepared. And then we take Nancy back to her place in San Pedro. She gifts us with one of her drawings (which turns out to have been based on a photograph of Polonia's deceased uncle), and we say goodbye. And then it's on to Conrad's house (Polonia's childhood home), where our intention of dropping off supplies and heading to LAX is ambushed by their intention to show us the photographs they took on their digital camera. Eventually, we make our escape, turn in the rental car, and check in for our flight. As bad as the experience of flying out of MSP post 9/11 is, it pales in comparison to flying out of LAX. The only good thing about the experience is that the lines are nonexistent at 10:00 PM in LAX - otherwise, we might still be there. After an amazingly short flight home, we arrive chez Schroth, and promptly collapse. Polonia eventually gets up and goes to work. I make it to neither work nor Yoga.
As our trips together go, this one is relatively successful.
Polonia took off from work early on Thursday to get ready for the trip. I worked my usual hours, and came home to find Polonia doing laundry and not yet started packing. Normal for the trips we take together. We had our usual pre-trip fight, and I was packed by 2:00 am. At which point we both went to bed - me packed, Polonia not yet started to pack. I got up at 4:00, called for a taxi to get us at 5:30, and woke Polonia up. 5:30 arrives, along with the taxi - Polonia is not yet packed. We arrive at the airport, and discover that the flight's departure is delayed by an hour - one can always count on NWA. Arriving late in LA, Polonia decides that the rental car just won't do - another 30 minutes spent getting a suitable vehicle. And then a leisurely trip down the back roads of Polonia's memory, as we drive by all the places she lived in after she left home. Large chunks of the Southern California landscape have been torn down and replaced with extremely ugly new buildings. This improves the general mood immensely - not. We finally arrive at Nancy's place in San Pedro, where she lives and paints. Load up the car, touch base with Conrad (Polonia's brother) via cell phone, and then its off to the Japanese American Museum in Los Angeles, where there is no sign of the Novack family. Eventually, rendezvous is achieved, and we lunch at an eminently forgettable restaurant in Little Tokyo. Eventually, all involved get back in their vehicles and head off to the High Desert.
We arrive at Lone Pine, check into the motel, and hook up with cousin Yen and his wife Patricia. Both of whom are, as advertised, interesting and fun people. We eat, we talk, we crash.
The next day we drive north from Lone Pine to Manzanar. The guard shack still guards the entrance, and they're restoring the auditorium. Everything else was demolished after the concentration camp was closed - all that remain are the concrete slabs that served as the foundations of the buildings. We attend the ceremonies, and I wander off, camera in hand, to attempt to capture some of the spirit of the place on film. I don't know if I succeeded, but I definitely captured a hell of a sunburn while I'm wandering around. After the ceremony, the plan was that we would meet for a picnic lunch in a park up the road in Independence (why yes, Manzanar was situated between Lone Pine and Independence - who says Amurricans don't do irony?). The wife of one of Polonia's cousins had made a picnic lunch for all involved (neither her cousin nor his wife were able to make the pilgrimage). Almost all of us met at the appointed spot - but where's Conrad and Conrad's family? Gone, as it turns out, to the McDonald's in Lone Pine - apparently that flavor of ethnic food is not to their taste. *I* thought is was pretty damn good - certainly better fat/salt/cardboard they got at McDonalds. Chacun a son gout.
Eventually, we ended up back at the motel. Eventually, cousin Yen left two and one-half Krispy Kreme donuts in the hotel room that Polonia and Nancy and I were occupying. Eventually, we ended up with Nancy, Polonia, Conrad, Kim, Yen, Patricia, and nieces Danica and Kristen in the room. All drawn by the lure of Krispy Kreme. And eventually, conversation devolved into the usual family discussion cum fight. Polonia left mad, Kim was left crying, and I'm sure the nieces were left hoping that none of this was genetic.
The next day, people are on their best behavior, leaves are taken, and eventually we head south. After an uneventful trip, we end up at the house of Polonia's cousin Chris and his wife Faye (the lady who made the splendid picnic lunch). Our original plans to dine at Mishima are trumped by Faye's plan to cook us dinner. While dinner is prepared, we decamp to the cemetery to visit the graves of Polonia's grandmother and her father. We find the markers, leave flowers, and return to the feast that Faye prepared. And then we take Nancy back to her place in San Pedro. She gifts us with one of her drawings (which turns out to have been based on a photograph of Polonia's deceased uncle), and we say goodbye. And then it's on to Conrad's house (Polonia's childhood home), where our intention of dropping off supplies and heading to LAX is ambushed by their intention to show us the photographs they took on their digital camera. Eventually, we make our escape, turn in the rental car, and check in for our flight. As bad as the experience of flying out of MSP post 9/11 is, it pales in comparison to flying out of LAX. The only good thing about the experience is that the lines are nonexistent at 10:00 PM in LAX - otherwise, we might still be there. After an amazingly short flight home, we arrive chez Schroth, and promptly collapse. Polonia eventually gets up and goes to work. I make it to neither work nor Yoga.
As our trips together go, this one is relatively successful.
families