It was 1999. Dr. A and I went to California for my mother’s 80th birthday party. It was a fun event held at a fancy restaurant in Palo Alto whose name escapes me.  My father, Lou, was 83 at that point and insisted on driving to the party. His eyesight was going and he drove way too fast but that’s what happens when you grow up in the mountain West. In fact, his sister had a radar detector in her car until she was well into her 70’s. The Greek side of my family are long-lived and as stubborn as hell.

It was also the weekend of the Academy Awards. I’m not sure if my father had seen a movie in a theatre since taking me to see Mary Poppins. My mom was in charge of going to the movies with me, which was a good thing because we got along much better. I do have to give Lou credit, he sat through Mary Poppins a second time because I liked it so much. He was not a patient man so that was a rarity.

My father’s Los Angeles cousins were in town that weekend for the big shebang. As always with my relatives, I’m uncertain how closely related we were because Lou was wont to say, “We’re Greek. A cousin is a cousin.” Being Angelenos, they wanted to watch the Oscars and my father grudgingly complied. I suspect he hadn’t seen the Oscars since I moved out, which, given how bad the show can be, is not necessarily the worst thing in the world.

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