Tuesday January 4, 2005 – Cambria Clan Gathering

Tuesday January 4, 2005 – Cambria Clan Gathering

When a new year begins I’m put in mind of Sisyphus, the Greek demigod, who angered the Olympian gods by refusing to stay in Hades after his death and returning to earth. As his punishment for loving life on earth so much as to disobey them, the gods decided his punishment would be to push a large rock to the top of a hill and watch as it returned to the bottom whereupon he began the task of driving the rock once again up a hill for eternity. Mankind is likewise condemned to the same fate as Sisyphus, collectively laboring each day to achieve some end. Once achieved, the process repeats. For the individual human, death in old age is a welcome end to this tiresome repetitive chore.

I’m reminded of this myth because just as Christmas marks the end of our annualy struggle, the New Year marks the beginning of the same struggle all over again. I’ve found that as a young man I thoroughly enjoyed New Year and all its connotation for starting over, another chance to accomplish what you failed to accomplish last year,… The tradition of resolutions to begin the new year no doubt springs from this feeling engendered in us all.

We spent the weekend in Cambria, the little town just south of Hearst Castle on California’s scenic Highway 1, the twisting, turning two-lane blacktop that meanders along the coastline over 600 miles from Camp Pendleton in the south all the way to Mendocino in the north. Cambria is still considered Northern California as Southern California begins below Point Conception at the latitude where the transverse Tehachapi Range collides with the Coast Range. Thus, it tends to be cooler and foggier than cities further south.

This weekend it was downright stormy as the cold front that sat atop the California coast from about Friday on continued to pump wind and rain over most of the state. We had rented a large house for the weekend, which we spent with our extended family of children and grandchildren. The house was just off Main Street at Wellington. The house sat midway up a gentle rise that offered unobstructed views of the restless Pacific; made more ominous by the darkened sky, rain-laden clouds and persistent southeast wind.

We received a welcome break on Saturday; New Years Day when the clouds gave way to sunshine and Cambria took on the look of a chilly spring day. The sidewalks were crowded with vacationers that annually mob the town during the last week of the year. The shops along Main Street in the West Village, that stretch a good part of a mile from Highway 1 east to Tamsen Street were doing a brisk business, especially the Main Street Grill on Main near Highway 1. The shops are rustic buildings of an early 1900s appearance, wood construction, one or two story in height, sitting side by side along Main Street giving visitors the impression of being back in time before fast food and modern conveniences.

The grandchildren tired of the leisurely walk along the crowded sidewalks and the family broke up into grandparents who took two grandchildren, the two youngest, and walked back up the hill to the house and the rest who decided to put up with the wait at the Main Street Grill with its serving line stretching out the main entrance. About a half hour later, everyone returned home with take out sandwiches—barbecue pork and beef dripping with sauce—and copious amounts of seasoned French fries. A bottle of Central Coast Merlot was uncorked and lunch was served at a dining table with an ocean view, a great way to start the New Year.

The last time all of us had gotten together in Cambria for New Year was New Year 2000 again in a vacation rental property on the coast side of Highway 1. The contrast between the two visits was startling. Earlier, there was only one grandchild now there were four. Before, a century was ending and a new one beginning, now we were observing the passing of a year. Earlier, the entire extended family was in some stage of the flu. We all decided to make the trip because we were all infected, though my wife “I” and I seemed to have the worst of the symptoms, lethargy, body aches, and labored breathing. Trudging up the stairs between floors easily winded the two of us. Nevertheless, we managed to prepare a great New Year Day meal served with a magnum of Veuve Clicquot Yellow Label Champagne—it was a special occasion that demanded conspicuous consumption. This time we were all healthy except our oldest granddaughter E, who came down with bug that gave her bloodshot eyes. Earlier we were all flush with inflated valuations from dot-com spending. Now, we had all suffered and recovered from the aftermath of that dot-com debacle.

The gathering this year was a celebration of that renewal as each of us had embarked on a new passage in our lives. Both children now with two children of their own and new careers. “I” and I, no longer new grandparents but firmly cast in the role of extended family elders. When the grandchildren weren’t the center of everyone’s attention, we gathered around the dining table and talked about what we were all looking forward to in the year to come. Listening to the conversation, I realized how our children had grown and what they had made of their lives, And yet they were still our kids and around us, I could see subtle signs of the younger versions of both: the tendency for our oldest to order the world around her in her vision, the inclination of the younger toward impulse. Each with their own traits have fashioned their lives and those of their families around those traits.

After a dinner of Shepard’s Pie courtesy of “I” and a fine bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon—the best on the Central Coast, according to The Cambria Wine Shop on Main Street, we spent the evening watching DVDs of Curb Your Enthusiasm.

Sunday morning found our two daughters packing up early and heading out shortly after eight in the morning, the youngest heading south to Orange County, the oldest going north to the Bay Area. “I” and I lingered at the house until ten—the earliest we could drop off the house keys and settle the bill—watching the continuing story of the South Asia Tsunami. The tragedy made us appreciate how fragile life is and just as Sisyphus, we appreciated our lives all the more.