Vacation Memory-Making Moments

I've determined that, for me, a true vacation is only possible when lounging poolside or beach side at an all-inclusive resort in the Caribbean. Preferably sans kids.

Today is our first full day in Rancho Mirage, California. For those not familiar with Rancho Mirage, it's in the desert. As in the 107-114 degrees desert. Yes, it's a dry heat. It's what I imagine it would feel like to hang out in the clothes dryer vent at home. Don't ask what we were thinking when we booked this part of the vacation. Chalk it up to time share desperation.

If you read my last post, you know that on the first day of this vacation I attempted some positive thinking. Well, that only lasted 24 hours. And the pot who called the kettle black in the first place (a.k.a. my son Ian) has been a harbinger of misery for much of our time on the left coast. He whined about the view from his seat at the All-Star game, wished his sister dead, and complained about his hurting/stinging/burning eyes, stomach, feet, and mouth. Oh, and the heat, of course.

Here are some additional highlights from the first part of our vacation:

• Verbal sparring with the rental car company which kept promising and not delivering a car to replace mine which was handicapped with a spare. They actually had the nerve to suggest we take it to the tire shop to get the tire replaced. When Rob finally beat them into submission and we arrived for our replacement car, we learned that we were responsible for the cost of a new tire since we hadn't opted in for their extra insurance protection. Outstanding. Budget gets an "F" for customer service.
• Brunch was fun. Met lots of team mascots. 
• At Fan Fest, Ian, Abby, and I took turns in the pitching and bunting cages. The kids did great. I however, will be keeping my non-pitching, non-bunting day job.
• At the pre-game party, the band Train performed. Stood about 50 feet away from them and they were outstanding. Performed "Hey Soul Sister" and "Drops of Jupiter." Highly recommend seeing them live!
  
• We spent one afternoon in Huntington Beach where we lounged on a dog beach. Let me just say it's difficult to sleep on a dog beach when you never know which sloppy wet creature is going to come over to visit. Abby found a pile of seaweed that she pretended was her purse (??), until an inconsiderate pup decided to urinate on it. Twice.
• Home Run Derby was a hoot. Excellent seats in center field meant home run hits were falling all around us. ESPN cameras were on us regularly. Anyone see us?
• All-Star Game was pretty dull till late in the game when were able to cheer on the first-in-a-very- long-time National League win. I'm pretty sure it was our attendance that sealed the victory. We're powerful that way.
• Spent a day at Knotts Berry Farm, an amusement park similar in personality to Hersheypark. Abby was willing to ride everything she saw. Mom was game for half of what Abby was up for. Dad was up for 1/4 of the rides. Ian had a stomach ache and stinging in his mouth (???). He was scared of everything except his own shadow, but then rallied and overcame his fear on the Pony Express ride. This was also the day in which he also wished Abby dead and cried about the heat (and this was pre-desert). Then there was the officer-related shooting in the parking lot.
• Phineas and Ferb. Whenever the television was on, this is what we were watching. This is one funny show. I highly recommend it when you're in the mood for a kids cartoon.

Despite all these memorable moments, the one I would like to forget but can't, took place at the pre-game party where I overheard two old acquaintances, probably in their late 60s, early 70s, catching up:

"How are the kids?"

"Our youngest died recently." [insert look of shock; condolences]

"What happened?"

"He was sick. He had depression." [insert visible lump in throat, swallow]. "He killed himself."

At that I moved away, moved to tears. As someone who has battled depression most of her life, I was struck by the horror of what is left behind when someone takes his or her own life. In my darkest moments, when "disappearing" seemed preferable to living in pain, I never imagined what it would mean for my parents to have to tell others what had happened to me, or rather, what I had done.

I know this is a lousy way to end a post. I'm sure you'd prefer to hear about Ian's and Abby's latest slug fest, or the officer-involved shooting at the amusement park, but since this was the moment of my so-called vacation that most affected me, I'm going to leave it at this. And pray for healing for that family and for all those who struggle with this devastating illness.