For Gene - Day 1 - "In Loving Memory"

3/11/17, “In Loving Memory”

Del Mar, California

While it seems odd to have a Travelogue entry for a Day that has been spent entirely along a one-mile stretch and has involved no travel-related activities, I have decided to consider this a trip, just as my brother’s wedding in Oregon was considered a trip.  Besides, this serves as a good method of sharing the details of the memorial service with those who couldn’t make it.  This dateline is not as glamorous as so many of the other datelines I have written, but it is a place that Gene loved with every fiber of his being, and the speakers today made that clear, the same as he had made it clear to me.  The speeches I heard today made clear just how wonderful of a man Gene was, and I was glad to have been there for it.

After I closed last night, I soon went to bed, waking up way earlier than I had expected and having trouble getting back to sleep.  In fact, I had woken up early enough that I considered driving down to Tijuana before the service, but I wanted to today to be about Del Mar.  I finally got back to sleep and woke up again around 10 AM.  I then headed outside for brunch, the same place we shared our last meal together, and the menu was the same.  I ordered much the same as he ordered in January: an everything bagel with cream cheese (as a starter) and bacon, eggs, and hash browns, along with coffee and club soda.

The food was, for the most part, exceptional, and I remembered our last meal together as I ate.  I had ordered scrambled eggs loose, and they were anything but loose.  Worst still, they were bland and unseasoned.  I grabbed what I thought were the salt and pepper shakers on the table to season my eggs and potatoes, too, for good measure.  After using both shakers, I tasted my eggs, and they were still not salted enough.  That was when I realized that the table had two pepper shakers and no salt shaker, meaning I had put twice the intended amount of pepper on my eggs and potatoes and no salt.  I found a salt shaker and remedied it, though the eggs and potatoes were a little more peppery than I would have liked.

After my meal, I went back to my porch and lit up a Caoba as I started working on my essay draft for school.  After the draft, I worked on the project I had outlined last night, learning it would take 15 minutes per year to prepare the chart.  The numbers I learned for 1983 made Disney’s “accomplishment” last year seem even less significant.  After my cigar, I walked up the block from the hotel to the memorial service.

It was being held at a place called Southfair, which had a nice event space.  It was elegant and simple, just the way Gene would have liked it.  I saw Gene’s son, Joe, and we recognized each other instantly.  I grabbed a copy of the program, which said, “In Loving Memory of Eugene G Schwartz 1925 – 2017”.  1925.  I wondered who was President in 1925.  FDR didn’t take office until 1929, so I was pretty sure it was Calvin Coolidge.  I confirmed my hunch and determined that, from Coolidge to Trump, Gene had lived to see 15 Presidents.  That’s not a small number.

The service started, and Joe spoke beautifully about his father, as did so many other people.  They spoke of the things I had intended to say, and I knew that my assessment of Gene’s character had hit the mark.  They spoke of his ability to listen and to see the heart of things in a way no one else could.  When two people referred disparagingly to his connection Ayn Rand, I started to worry about how my speech that would entirely laud his connection to Rand would go over.

When it was my turn, Joe introduced me and (in absentia) my father and his history with Gene.  No one else had been given an introduction.  My speech was well-received, as I praised his ability to see the gray and the importance that he placed on community values.  However, Joe wanted to respond to my comment about Gene’s support for Trump, no doubt because a large percentage of the audience hadn’t voted for a Republican since Eisenhower.  He said only that it was a long and hard decision for Gene to support Trump.  He also addressed the concept of the “virtue of selfishness,” reemphasizing that Gene gave higher weight to community values.

There were a few more speeches, then a viola performance on Gene’s old instrument, followed by a reading of some of his poetry.  He was quite a poet, it turned out.  It was then time to eat, and I didn’t have to be told twice.  They had quite a spread.  As I made my way to the food (and throughout the afternoon), I received much praise for my speech, and people kept saying how special it was that I came all the way across the country for this.  Well, Gene was a very special person, and he became even more special to me in the end.

The spread consisted of all sorts of breads and cold cuts, and I made myself a plate of two types of bread, meats, smoked fishes, and cheeses.  That first plate did not last long, so I got a second plate, just of bread, smoked fishes, and soft cheeses.  The third plate, this time just breads and soft cheeses finally filled me up.  As I ate, I spoke with various people who came over to me, including one older gentleman who engaged me in a conversation about philosophy.  When I explained that the “virtue of selfishness” is a misunderstood concept, we came up with a good way of rephrasing, a way that he was able to accept.  It simply means that you should be self-directed instead of others-directed, inwardly-directed instead of outwardly-directed.  We discussed how that related to the philosophies of various German philosphers.

After my third plate, everything was starting to die down, so I said my goodbyes.  Joe insisted that I come out to dinner later, and I said I would.  I then lit up a blue Graycliff, the same cigar I smoked after saying goodbye to Gene for the last time, and walked back to the hotel.  I finished revising my essay draft and thought about to do tomorrow.  I also had some coffee, chips, and cookies.  After my cigar, I lit up my trusty Ardor, glad to add Del Mar to the list of places where I have smoked this, and proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close, as it is almost time to head out.

Tonight was a celebration of life.  It was not a celebration of Gene’s life, but of life in general.  Gene would have been very happy to know that the four of us came together to celebrate life in that manner tonight.  It was a feast for the record books, and the conversation was rich and friendly.  We were glad for the epic feast we enjoyed and even gladder for each other’s company.

After I closed earlier, I soon headed out for dinner, and I was worried I would not have an appetite, still full from the lunch I had earlier and the chips I had just eaten.  I drove the short distance up the road to the restaurant where we had arranged to meat, a seafood place appropriately called Fish Market.  When I got there, I saw Joe waiting for me, but he said that there was a change of plans.  Their cat back home had gotten out and disappeared.  His wife was devastated and refused to leave the hotel.  We would not be having dinner at the Fish Market.  Instead, he said, he would drive me back to his hotel, and we could all have dinner there.  He would then drive me back to Fish Market, and I could drive to my hotel from there.  That made no sense.  I asked if the hotel was further up the road or back down towards my hotel.  He said it was actually past my hotel, so I said I would just follow him in my car.

He walked me to the bar where his sister Alex and brother-in-law were drinking martinis while he want back up to his room to talk to his wife.  Meanwhile, the brother-in-law asked what I wanted to drink.  He was having a vodka martini, and that sounded perfectly good to me, so I got one as well.  Alex asked about my Guerrero Negro t-shirt I was wearing, and I told them all about last month’s trip.  Joe was hesitant to leave his wife in this state, but Alex insisted that we go out for dinner, the four of us being her and her husband, me, and Joe.

We went to a restaurant called Pacifica, a seafood restaurant, and we all drove there in one car.  It was in Del Mar Plaza, the fixture of Del Mar that Gene fought so valiantly to have built, failing over decades before finally succeeding.  We noted with irony that it was across the street from my hotel and that they were going to have to drive me back to their hotel after dinner, only so that I could drive back there.  I still didn’t have much of an appetite, but I was sure that I could find something light to eat.  There was nothing light about that meal.

We started with cocktails, just a plain gin for me.  That was when my appetite started to return.  My companions ordered two appetizers for the table, fried calamari and some odd thing that I don’t even know how to describe.  Alex’s husband ordered the shrimp and grits for his main and asked if anyone wanted to do halves.  I took him up on his offer and ordered the scallops as my contribution to the halves.  The conversation began with a discussion of my travels, and then it led to Joe and Alex sharing some of their wilder exploits from their youth.  It was a fun conversation, but it really took off when we started talking about movies.

Alex had worked in the movie industry most of her life, and she had an encyclopedic knowledge of movies to match mine, especially when it came to animated movies, but that was no surprise.  The surprise was that her husband and brother were able to keep up.  I will talk forever with total strangers about movies if they can keep up with me.  These were not strangers, and they were all able to more than keep up.  We talked about Ghibli and DreamWorks and Illumination.  We barely talked about Disney.  We all agreed in our praise for “Kubo and the Two Strings.”  We also all agreed in our belief that “La La Land” was overrated, though we found flaws in it for different reasons.  I knew that the liberal couple would agree with my praise for “20^th Century Women,” and we discussed the merits of other movies of the past three years.

Alex’s husband ordered wine to go with our scallops, an excellent pinot noir.  The meal was delicious, and I was beyond full, but we could not resist dessert.  I didn’t even get to see the menu, but Joe and his brother-in-law picked out three dessert for the table, and I knew it was all good.  The dessert soon came, and I learned what we got: creme brulee, tartufo, and strawberry shortcake.  I took my portion of each, along with coffee, and I was almost dead by the end of the meal.  My reader will recall that I said that I did not have an appetite when I left my hotel.

Joe and his brother-in-law split the check 50/50, telling me to put away my card when I took it out.  They drove me back to their hotel, where we said our goodbyes, before I drove the less than five minutes back to my hotel.  I’m sure I was under the legal limit for driving, but I was very glad for the short drive.  I went to my room, lit up a Partagas, and changed into my pajamas.

I went out to the porch to finish my cigar, but I was told that smoking was prohibited on the porch.  I also learned that it is prohibited almost everywhere in town, including the sidewalks.  However, the hotel did have a heated outdoor smoking area, so she walked me there.  I sat down and proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that I can publish and get to sleep.  It has been a wonderful day, and I know that Gene would have loved the manner in which we honored his memory.