Take a Little Trip With Me...Part 2
there will be angels
Memories fade quickly, even when we beg them to stay. As I start this essay to take you along on the rest of my January road trip, the experiences from those ten days are already slipping through the crevices of my brain.
Photos help. I had my iPhone on that trip, as I imagine nearly all of us do these days, and while I didn’t take hundreds of photos there are enough for a reasonable facsimile of memory. So here we go…
When I last left you, I had released some of my parents’ ashes at one of their favorite parks near Pasadena (where I grew up), with the help of a friend.
Yael and I walked back to my car, feeling very pleased that we had found such a good spot for my mom and dad, and without being detected. She offered to take me out to dinner—it felt like this was something to commemorate together. I loved the idea and pointed us toward a restaurant that had been a family favorite: Mijares in Pasadena.
This is where I wish I would have taken some photos, but I didn’t. You’ll just have to imagine a vintage, old school Mexican restaurant that sits near the freeway, an institution in the city for more than 100 years. You’ll have to imagine the margarita that we shared (or did we each get our own? Here is where I forget…). You’ll have to imagine the “garbage burrito” I ordered, smothered in all kinds of goodness. Two old friends, cherishing each other’s company, all the more aware of impermanence after our clandestine task to honor my parents.
The dispersal of their ashes was the main purpose of this road trip but the task was not yet finished. I was surprised by the quantity of ashes that come from a cremated body. My dad’s box was significantly heavier than mom’s, which made sense because he was six feet tall and she was about five feet five inches. Although dad lost a lot of weight at the end of his life because of COVID, he still weighed a good 150 pounds, whereas mom was probably closer to 90. My point being – there was still plenty left over after the park visit, so finding more resting spots was on the list for the remainder of the trip. I didn’t really have a plan, I trusted that the right places would reveal themselves. Most of my journey was run on intuition and heart, not firm itineraries.
On Tuesday, it felt time to start the long return trip home to New Mexico. I didn’t especially want to re-trace the same route back. In this way I am my father’s daughter – dad was forever seeking different roads to try out, and as much as possible he avoided interstates. When I looked at a map and measured out the miles, I was surprised to learn that going home by way of Las Vegas, Nevada, was not any longer than the way I drove out, and my cousin happened to live there. Bingo! I chose my new route.
As I left Pasadena, I made one last stop under the iconic Colorado Street bridge that spans Arroyo Seco, home of the Rose Bowl. I had forgotten that Colorado Boulevard, which runs right through the middle of Pasadena, is also part of Route 66. I never knew there was a sweet park right underneath the bridge. I took a short walk, then it dawned on me this would be another wonderful resting spot for mom and dad. They had moved to Pasadena in the late 1950s from Ohio, lived here for 60 years and loved it. I felt a bit guilty about extricating them from this temperate climate to go to Northern New Mexico and into cold winters. This small park, called Desiderio, seemed like the kind of place they would enjoy, and the setting was dramatic with the bridge’s arches overhead.
Once more I went on a secret mission since I wasn’t sure if it was okay to leave cremains here. I waited until a woman walking her dog got in her car and drove away, found a quiet spot under a tree, and left a small amount of ashes there.
I headed northwest to Oxnard and met up with my friend Leslie for a beach walk and dinner, then drove to Ventura to stay the night at a cool place called The Clocktower Inn. The next morning I got more quality time with the Pacific at Solimar Beach. I savored every liquid moment before heading back to my high and dry desert home in New Mexico.
Saying goodbye to the ocean, I headed east through the verdant Heritage valley along the Santa Clara River, and then into the vast Mojave desert. I pulled over for a break in Baker, California, which turned out to be home to the world’s tallest thermometer, installed to commemorate a record-breaking 134 °F day in July 1913. Yikes! Fortunately it was a lovely 70 degrees day for me.
Near Baker I took a side trip a mile or so into the Mojave National Preserve and pulled off the road to take in the landscape. The view was gorgeous—miles of sandy desert punctuated by hills and mountain ranges, and everything green from recent rains. It was so quiet, like being in a church. I felt the nudge of my spirit and decided this would be another good resting place for mom and dad. No one was anywhere around, so this was the most relaxed of the releases. After I finished, a huge raven hovered in the air currents above me for a good ten seconds. I took this as a very good sign that my parents approved.
That night I stayed just outside of Las Vegas. In the morning I enjoyed a short and sweet visit with my cousin Michelle before orienting south, passing the dramatic Hoover dam and reconnecting with Route 66 in Kingman.
Here I’ve got to back you up a week earlier to my westward drive when I was also in Kingman. I stopped there at the Arizona Route 66 Museum and saw an exhibit called “The Angel of Route 66” about Angel Delgadillo, a barber and business owner who was instrumental in establishing Route 66 as an historic highway. Angel is still very much alive at 98 years old; this fascinating exhibit was intended to capture his rich life in stories.
On this day as I kept driving east, I vaguely remembered a friend who worked for the National Park Service telling me to stop in the small town of Seligman and go to Delgadillo’s Snow Cap Drive-In. I veered off Interstate 40 (my dad would have been proud) and meandered on old Route 66 into Seligman. Alas, the Snow Cap was closed for a winter break. Needing to stretch my legs, I wandered down the road and into the first gift shop I came across. On a table in the front was a pile of Angel’s memoir, The Road to Happiness. I brought a book to the counter and chatted with the woman there – who turned out to be Angel’s daughter, and who knew my park ranger friend, Kaisa! I stayed for about half an hour while Mirna told me stories about her dad, who was a real bodhisattva in his community, and invited me to the upcoming big centennial party for Route 66. I may just return for that! Watch more of Angel’s extraordinary story on this video.
Oh and I have to add: before Angel opened his Seligman barbershop in 1950, he went to the American Barber College — in Pasadena.
The next day, I made it back home to Española with some of my parents’ ashes still in my car. I really wanted to finish this mission. One of my favorite nearby destinations is a trail near the town of White Rock that overlooks the Rio Grande, so I packed mom and dad one last time. I hiked up to a hill with a view of the Sangre de Cristos and Pecos Mountains, and released the rest of them in this spot. Look carefully — do you see the two hearts in the mountain?
After this journey, I really do believe Angels are all around us….
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Those hearts in the mountain! Topographical love notes. This was a fun read, Maia. Thank you.
Thank you for taking me with you. I know a lot of the places you visited. I lived in Glendale until I was 18 but also lived with family in Antelope Valley. For a couple of years. One uncle & aunt were postmasters in Pear Blossom Ca and my other Uncle worked at Edward’s as crew chief of the X15. It sounds like this trip was pain relief for your soul - the next best thing since we can’t fix grief. Blessings to you 🙏🪷