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 “20th 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.
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