Spring Break in Austin

Depending on the order in which you read, this the first or the last of an unending Marvel-like sequence of spring break posts. So steel yourself for the journey or be thankful you’re at the end. Vicky and Brett and the kids spent a few days in Austin in the very thick of SWSX country – at the Austin Motel (with their famous accidental giant dick and balls sign) in the heart of SoCo. I never got my schedule coordinated with Jo’s properly so I missed out on most of that but I did walk up with Ouiser one afternoon and we spent a couple of entertaining hours with them at the outdoor patio of Gueros Taco Bar. Here are a couple of photos of Ouiser on the way there and back. The Pride+ flag is courtesy of the Austin Motel.

Ouiser was so tired that evening from walking and from the cumulative non-stop celebration of spring break that she literally tumbled on to my lap and feel into a deep deep sleep.

Speaking of deep sleep, our esteemed Fuckernor Abbott followed up his pervious abortion banning greatness with a precious act against families of trans children. Some weekend during spring break (I have clearly lost track), Vivian joined her friend and her friend’s dad to protest the exec order at the State Capitol.

A journalist from a much admired local publication of the highest standards got a great photo of Vivian’s friend’s dad and outed him as a member of the dreaded Pro-Trans Kids Mafia, y’all. It turns out yet again that when they need it, the conservatives crave a spot of big government. And no, all you CRT hating parents, you don’t know what is better for your kids. Let’s have the Fuckernor decide.

Segueing violently, I have two lovely pictures of Evan. He is changing so quickly, I’d like to put them down somewhere, even if right after the photo of the dreaded Pro-Trans Kids Mafia. And that’s all for now, folks.

Spring Break in Wimberley

Brett, Vicky, and their kids came down for spring break. We spent a couple of days in idlic Wimberley on the banks of the Blanco. I wonder if the owners of this property would be willing to switch for five acres of prime hilltop with a home that needs love and care. I can’t see why not.

We chatted, cooked, drank, sat in the hot tub, went strolling and stand up paddling, and had a good time. By the last day, the kids were almost communicating with each other too. Vivian and Lily are friends, but getting any other combination to chat isn’t easy – I’ve included a photo of Evan and Anna sitting down for dinner….

We somehow missed Anna in both the group selfies, but I promise she was there the whole time.

Spring Break in New Braunfels

Nicolle and Michelle celebrated getting hitched 20 years ago – back when it was illegal for two women to marry each other in Texas. Their marriage has exemplified courage, conviction, love, and family. We had a rollicking great time around a giant bonfire meeting people we met 20 years ago and making new friends. Uncle Tom, Aunt Anna, Kim, and Wayde came down from Nebraska. Unfortunately the only photographic proof I have of the entire weekend’s activities is a slightly blurry picture of Ouiser schmoozing her way up on to the couch and resting her head on Uncle Tom’s lap. But it’s a keeper.

Congratulations, Nicolle and Michelle. Your love for each other, and for doing the right thing is a beacon of light.

Spring Break in SF

Vivian and I made the most of our time in San Francisco. We visited with FT and Kochhi and their families. We fleetingly thought of going to museums and visiting a couple of colleges but neither of those happened. We went to Monterey and walked along the beach, and drove to Healdsburg for a glass of Pinot and dinner. We walked from the Tenderloin up Nob Hill, through China Town, along Columbus Avenue to Washington Square and then carried on to Fisherman’s Wharf. We chatted, chilled, read, (I worked), and relaxed. We got boba tea at By Me Boba, fucking amazing crab at R & G lounge, and freshly made onigiri at Onigilly. We met one Uber driver who essentially told us the entire contents of his master’s thesis, and met another one who is a retired female police officer from Nepal. We meant to not do much and we did that admirably. As my friend George would say, Mission Accomplished.

One More Star

Last month we heard that Alexandra’s drug trial at Stanford wasn’t going well. A year into her cancer diagnosis she was running out of options. Vanessa and Grant needed an extra hand to bring Alexandra back to Austin. That Friday evening I stepped out of my Uber in California and was greeted by Grant. I didn’t know what to expect. How do you help two people drive their dying child back home?

Early next morning Grant and I drove into town and returned with a big ass RV. The plan was to keep Alexandra as comfortable as possible. I made up the bed for her where the dining table drops down in the main cabin and padded it with pillows. Vanessa brought in armloads of Alexandra’s favorite soft toys including George, the three foot tall giraffe. It took hours to pack the RV – a wheelchair, a walker, medical equipment, special food, and then everything else from them living in California for months. Grant carried Alexandra into the RV and we got on the road. Over the next five days we drove to Austin. We stopped at friends’ homes along the way who greeted Alexandra with welcoming hugs and love and carefully prepared meals and then bade a cheerful good bye next morning, holding back tears.

Alexandra started strong and alert and ended the trip tired and ready to be in her own bed in her own home. She made it feel like just another road trip as if it was the most normal thing in the world. Along the way I walked Keisha’s dog on Venice Beach, hiked up the red rock bluff next to Camelback Mountain in Phoenix with Nic, had a cup of the best coffee in Las Cruces made by Bernie in his kitchen, drank more of Trapper’s bourbon in Sonora than was good for me, and was made to feel at home with love and affection that overflowed from Grant and Vanessa. When faced with darkness and pain, they radiated light and hope and made it a trip of a lifetime.

Grant and I took turns driving. The RV was comfortable and spacious. Though it felt like a giant cardboard box on an F-450 chassis, you could coax it up to about 75 mph. Vanessa sat across from Alexandra and chatted away with her and kept us together.

I vividly remember the day Grant called many years ago. They had just found out that the adoption was going to go through. Grant was at a boat show in Annapolis. He called and said “I’m going to be a Daddy”. He was so happy. When they got Alexandra, Grant took a picture of her laying next to two iPhones end to end. She was about that long. That was 13 years ago. As Alexandra grew up I’d hear her voice on my phone occasionally. If Grant called and it rolled over to message, Grant would ask her to say “pick up the phone, poopyhead!”.

While we were driving across the southwest, back at home Evan was having a busy weekend. He had his first school dance Friday night. Evan went black tie and looked very dapper. I didn’t get the details, but I think the 6th graders treated it like an extended recess and didn’t really do the romantic dance thing. He also had two soccer matches (one on a freezing early morning in San Antonio), a birthday party, and an airsoft party (where you shoot airsoft pellets at each other instead of paintballs). Vivian escaped the weekend madness with a sleepover at Julia’s. Jo and I have worked hard to be fungible parents, and we replace each other pretty well.

So Grant and Vanessa are divorced. There were stretches before Alexandra’s diagnosis when things between them weren’t pretty. That didn’t matter now. The four of us were a team. We were a good team. We engaged in banal everyday things, but the air around us was charged with urgency. We were acutely aware of life. I had this weird feeling that if we kept driving everything would be alright. Don’t stop. Just keep on going. In this little bubble we are okay.

But increasingly Alexandra was hardly able to eat. She was getting weaker, communicated less, and was frustrated that she couldn’t eat. Still, her eyes were sharp and she hung in there with amazing courage and grace.

The girl at whose home Vivian slept over on Saturday is Julia. Julia’s mother is like a second mother to Alexandra and is a very close friend of Vanessa’s. I was in this RV because Tavia had called me. In another small world moment, it turns out that Julia’s grandfather was a professor at Jo’s alma mater, Washington College. But Vivian and Julia, without knowing any of this, found each other at high school and became fast friends.

Tavia had offered to fly to El Paso and relieve me and drive the last third. I would fly home back to my family and work. But I couldn’t do that. I selfishly felt I had to keep the bubble intact as long as I could. So we drove on through El Paso and west Texas and that night we stayed at Tavia’s brother’s in Sonora. It was our last night on the road. The next morning we drove in to Austin. Jo and Tavia met us at Vanessa’s. Grant carried Alexandra up and Vanessa made her comfortable. I set George the giraffe up in his place next to her. I kissed Alexandra on top of her head and Jo and I drove home just in time for my Thursday 1pm zoom call. The trip was over like that.

ps. Friday was a blur of work and laundry. On Saturday, right after Evan’s soccer match, Vivian and I got dropped off at the airport to board a flight to San Francisco. It was the start of her spring break and we had planned to spend a few days there while Jo stayed with Evan who still had a week of school to go before his break.

When we landed in California there was a message on my phone from Vanessa. It simply said that there was one more star in the sky. I read it over and over a dozen times till the airplane finally stopped. Vivian and I walked down the ramp into the cool California afternoon.

Vivian and Alexandra knew each other tangentially. They spent a week at a time together in sailboats in the British Virgin islands and in French Polynesia when they were little. As they grew up they didn’t hang out. Then they both ended up at the same school for a couple of years. Vivian was two grades older. I’d see Alexandra when I’d come to pick Vivian up and she would shyly wave back. Since Alexandra’s cancer diagnosis a year ago Vivian was acutely aware of Alexandra. When she had to pick a topic for a biology research paper last Fall, she chose to write about DIPG, the kind of cancer that Alexandra had.

I steered Vivian to an empty corner of the airport and broke the news. We stood there for a long time in our masks, tightly holding on to each other, tears streaming down our faces.

We knew what was coming for a year, but we had still hoped. We are dying from the moment we are born. But the way we live our lives gives it meaning. Without that, there is only absurdity. Alexandra’s life burned short and bright. It is hard to believe that she is gone.


Happy birthday, Vivian.

You hang flowers from your ceiling by their toes. You keep us on our toes. Every day I learn to see the world through your eyes – sometimes reluctantly, usually slowly, but always in a fascinating new ways. When you were little you wanted a quinceaƱera at 15. You wanted a party and a poofy dress. Things change, fortunately. Boy, do they change. Last month your hair was blue. Then black. Then short. Then buzzed. Then buzzed and blond and blue. And here you are, asleep on the flight to San Francisco, looking like an alien assassin (that took me three attempts to type – I hadn’t realized that you’ve got to write ass twice to spell assassin).

Looking at you makes me happy. Thank you for that. Wish you a very happy birthday, our dear first born whatever : -)