Chapter 59 - Daniel’s Turn

Dad and Daniel in 2002

Daniel now at 18

My niece, Emily, was graduating from Harvard-Westlake High School, and all the Tennessee Haymers made the excursion. My brother, Robbie and my sister-in-law, Carol were living up in the Encino Hills at the time in a huge gated house with Emily (Max was living down in Orange County, a junior now at UC Irvine). There was a nice kidney-shaped pool in the backyard and a Weber grill on the patio. We made good use of both those accoutrements— believe you me.

It was a beautiful late-spring day in May as we drove our rented Chevy Impala to Harvard-Westlake. I had never seen so many Jaguars, Rolls Royces, Mercedes and Porsches since I graduated Beverly Hills High School in 1970. When I saw Steven Spielberg escorting his son, Theo, and Denzel Washington arm-in-arm with his daughter, Katia to the tune of the Pomp and Circumstances March I flashed back to that day thirty-six years earlier. The only difference, instead of the graduating class wearing black armbands to protest the war in Viet Nam, the class of 2006 were wearing Armani suits, diamond earrings and shoes that cost more than three nights stay at the Chateau Marmont. Maybe some of the students had thoughts of protesting the war In Iraq, but I didn’t see any evidence of it at all. Maybe they had matured enough to know the time and place for such demonstrations, and graduation ceremony wasn’t such a time. When they called Emily’s name and she came to the podium to accept her diploma, I knew it was the passing of the torch, another reminder that time was marching on for all of us. Nonetheless, I was so proud of her and wondered what joys, trials and tribulations she would face in the real world (after college, of course). After going on a tour with her mom of many colleges and universities, she had settled on the University of Michigan at Ann Arbor and would be attending that remarkable center of learning the following September.

After the graduation, we decided a trip to Las Vegas would be fun. I had my usual system in mind—to start with blackjack, play a little craps where I would try to find some fat-cat with a pile of chips and emulate his betting. We stayed at the Luxor, the hotel on the south side of the strip built in the shape of a pyramid. I would have had a great time if I hadn’t had lost all my money within the first twenty minutes. After that, I hung out by the pool, drank non-alcoholic beer and cokes and worked on my tan. I couldn’t wait to leave, but tried not to show my impatience with the ultimate city of sin (being one to wear my heart on my sleeve, it wasn’t working.) I think everyone else had a pretty good time but I swore I’d never to go back the Vegas again.

On the drive back to my sister, Susan’s house in Nichols Canyon (where we would be staying at the tail-end of our trip), we stopped at Lake Arrowhead and walked around my old stomping grounds. I remembered going there in 1970 with my first girlfriend, Debbie Taylor, whose father had a cabin called Gypsy’s Hideaway about a ten minute drive from the lake. We would light candles and sit by the roaring cedar wood fire listening to Crosby, Stills and Nash and James Taylor’s, Sweet Baby James. Although it sucks to be getting older, I feel sorry for people who missed those days, especially the sixties; we had The Beatles, The Stones and Bob Dylan (in their hey-day), The Animals, The Lovin’ Spoonful, The Buffalo Springfield and we were part of a scene that will probably never repeat itself again. It was an iconic time!

During the trip, Daniel kept asking when his turn would come to do a one-on-one with me to L.A. He was worried that since we were already here, this vacation would supersede our trip. I promised him the second installment of the 10 year-old father/son sojourn to L.A. would become a reality. The trip would coincide with a Senior Recital performance by my nephew, Max, in Winifred Smith Hall at UC Irvine in June 2007, four months before Daniel’s eleventh birthday. We had plenty of time to plan things out—one thing for sure; we weren’t going to Las Vegas.

It was finally Daniel’s turn, since I had made two trips to L.A. with Jonathan—one when he was six to drive my Mom’s Toyota Camry back to Tennessee and the second for his participation in WACK (Wild and Crazy Kids). In June of 2007, Daniel and I flew to LAX and stayed our first night at the Fleg’s (my cousin and his wife, Richard’s house) they shared with their daughter, Amanda (born three days after Jonathan in March of 1992). Daniel really liked the company but his favorite creature was their long-haired dachshund, Milo. He really loved that little guy and I could tell I was going to have to get a dog like him when we got back to Tennessee.

On our second day in town, we rented a couple of bicycles in Venice and rode those puppies all the way to the near edge of Malibu. We both were exhausted by the time we made Sunset Beach and we parked our bikes in the sand and headed for the ocean. We didn’t have out swimming trunks on so we waded in the cool water chasing the breakers back to the shore just in time before we got out clothes soaked. It was the highlight of the trip for both of us. That night we met Robbie, Carol and Susan at a Japanese restaurant and I could tell Daniel was feeling a bit out of sorts. He had his head down on the table after the meal and wasn’t very talkative (not like him at all). That night we stayed at Susan’s house in Nichols Canyon. I could see she still had the blown up poster of Mom on an easel in the living room. Susan, still devastated by the loss of our mother (not that I wasn’t), and seeing that photo up there made me miss her terribly. I asked Daniel if he remembered the days when she used to paint watercolors with him in the guest room in Thompson Station. He said he did and having the pictures of her all over Susan’s house brought the memory home to him. That made me happy. It was a shame he never got to meet my father, none of my kids did—they would have loved him. At least they got to see him on the TV from time to time.

Daniel was looking pale as a ghost that evening. I checked his temperature and he was running a low grade fever. I asked Susan if she had something that might reduce his fever and all she had was some Sudafed or Tylenol. Daniel, being used to that horrible tasting liquid, hated taking medicine. But he had never really taken pills and wasn’t sure how to do it. I demonstrated the process by taking a vitamin and he began to get the idea but still was unsure how to get that large oblong object down his throat without choking. After about fifteen minutes of balking and refusal, he finally was able to take his medicine. He went to bed and was asleep in no time. Susan and I sat in the living room talking and hoping Daniel was going to be able to make the trip down to Irvine the next day for Max’s performance. After awhile, I went into the middle room we were sharing and checked his head. He was still warm, was perspiring his sheets were clammy. I thought it was a good sign—maybe he would sweat it out. One could only hope. I was wishing that Donna had been there, but this was a father/son trip and good old dad was going to have to take the reins. I didn’t even call her that night knowing I would have spilled the beans about his illness—I didn’t want to worry her. I went to bed on the big chair watching him sleep on the daybed next to me and I finally drifted off.

The next morning I awoke at the crack of dawn. I let Daniel sleep and went into the kitchen to make a pot of Trader Joe’s French Roast coffee. Susan must have smelled the aroma of those savory beans and came in to the kitchen as the sun was peeking through the sliding glass doors leading out to the balcony. She asked how Daniel was feeling and I told her he was still asleep and it would be best to let him sleep as long as possible. It was going to be a long day and I hoped he would be able to make it without a trip to the doctor or emergency room if things took a turn for the worse. When he woke up around eight, he was soaked. I ran a hot bath for him and gave him another Tylenol after he picked at his cereal. He did much better with the pill that time. I made him a cup of herbal tea and he drank it while he was bathing. After that he was feeling better and was watching the Power Rangers on the TV. I thought he was going to make it after all. With Susan in the passenger seat and Daniel resting in the back, I drove the rented Mustang down to Irvine and we got to Chakra, the Indian restaurant, in time for appetizers. Daniel didn’t take too kindly to spicy food but did like the Nan bread and Tandoori chicken. Still, it was obvious he wasn’t up to snuff. Carol said she knew he was coming down with something after his behavior in the Japanese restaurant two days earlier. She thought it was probably a virus that would run itself out in a couple of days. I was hoping she was right. Mothers seem to know best about these things. I think eating that spicy food had done the trick since by the time the meal was over, Daniel’s fever had broken and he seemed ready to face the music—Max’s music.

The performance at Winifred Smith Hall was brilliant and the pièce de resistance was his duet with his professor, Kei Akagi. They performed Senor Mouse, by Chick Corea, and I must say I was overwhelmed by the magic of the moment. Max was brilliant and I knew (even though I was a bit envious) he had a brilliant future ahead of him. Even Daniel was impressed. I was so relieved he was feeling better. The trip was winding down and we spent the last night back at Richard and Sue’s house in Cheviot Hills, the closest to the airport. Daniel said he had a great time and was sorry to leave, especially Milo, but he missed his mom and brothers. That made me a little tearful knowing that he was close to his siblings. Donna and I must have done a few things right. Maybe more than that!