Last week, I attended my great-grandson Grayson’s (son of Jessica and Ricky Abejuela) first birthday party. It was another sweltering day in Los Banos, one of many steaming days this summer, which seems to be on steroids.
The party’s setting couldn’t have been more scenic. It was high on a ridge with a spectacular view, and beautiful horses and sturdy, black steers accentuated its rolling grounds. The clouds above seemed to huddle in a pack as if saying, “It’s here. The party is right here.”
The location was perfect. On the majestic vista, viewers could experience a panoramic view of the Central Valley, looking like a picture postcard in its broad scenic splendor.
David and Cathy Gould hosted the party at their house. This dynamic duo opened their home—and their large, frequently used swimming pool—for the joyous event. Their son, Josh, is a close friend of the young Abejuela family and Grayson’s proud godfather.
About 70 people attended the barbecue. They sat in a covered patio that my granddaughter Jessica, the master event planner, filled with happy, baseball-themed decorations. It was a festive and joyful day from start to finish.
There was a diverse range of ages among the guests, from a newborn baby to me, the oldest. Ricky’s family, including his parents, Rick and Irma, and Jessica’s father, John McPherson, were present.
Jessica’s stepfather, Bryan Olson, her sister, Amanda Gonzales, and her niece, Mady, also attended, along with oodles of the Abejuelas’ friends.
Being back in Los Banos for the day made me feel nostalgic and led me to ponder the many paths our lives travel and how what seems to be a simple fork in the road can have lasting effects.
My life path has made many powerful turns. With these turns come changes in destiny that cause overlapping fortunes for those I dearly love. Life can take us on meandering roads indeed.
I am often amazed at how widespread my journey has been. Born in Michigan, I assumed that was where my life would unroll. Yet, family problems began a cycle of events.
My parents got divorced. I chose the name of my mother’s attorney from the many names in a directory of lawyers. I had just read Daphne du Maurier’s novel “The Flight of the Falcon,” and Falconer was one of the names in the directory. We chose that name for no other serious reason.
When we needed to sign the papers, the lawyer’s secretary’s son, serving as a courier, brought them over. Since her son, Lawrie, was close to my brother Jeff’s age, they became friends quickly. I was then just the younger adolescent sister.
When my mother decided to move to California—a place we’d never been—my life’s trajectory changed again. Lawrie moved to California to be my brother’s roommate a few years later. When I was 16, I married him.
That big fork in the road took me back to Michigan, where I lived a few times. Onward, it took me from Los Angeles to Palm Springs, Santa Rosa to all over the Bay Area, Ventura to Houston, and Watsonville to Los Banos.
My journey made me the young mother of my son and two daughters. One of my daughters, Lara, became the mother of Jessica, who then became Grayson’s mother—all because I read du Maurier’s “The Flight of the Falcon.”
After being married for 17 years, my first husband wanted a divorce. I was upset, so I attended a Parents Without Partners meeting. There, I met Dan, who introduced me to his roommate, Ron Ingram, who became my second husband.
While living in Watsonville, I read an ad for Greg Hostetler’s Ranchwood Homes, and we decided to move there. My life then took other turns. One was writing for a local newspaper, and 33-plus years later, you’re reading my column today.
My granddaughters, Amanda and Jessica, attended Los Banos schools. It was there that they met their respective husbands, Craig and Ricky. Because of an ad I read in a Watsonville newspaper, my granddaughters became the parents of my two great-grandchildren, Mady and Grayson, the birthday boy.
I can only imagine all the turns ahead for my family or how many life-altering events may occur because of what seems like a fluke. Life can indeed change on a dime.
Even my living in Fresno—somewhere I would’ve never imagined I’d be—came from a sequence of dime spins. I loved Los Banos and had planted deep roots there. Sadly, Ron, my beloved husband of 30 years, died from cancer almost 14 years ago.
I assumed the next time I’d move, it would be to the Los Banos cemetery on Center Avenue to take my place next to Ron. But life changed once more, very dramatically: I needed to sell my lovely home on Page Avenue.
My daughter Lara had moved to Madera two years before and suggested I move closer to her. Abracadabra—Fresno! I’ve lived there for over two years, but I admit a big part of me lies on the other side of our valley.
The simplest thing, maybe something you wouldn’t even notice, can spin your life and future descendants’ lives in many directions. I’ve met most of my best friends in strange ways.
I met one at a makeup makeover at a JCPenney in San Jose, another on an hour-and-a-half-long train ride, and another through a letter a reader of my column sent me.
While I treasure these long, dear friendships, I admit it was a quirky way for my friends and me to meet. This is why I always pay close attention to my surroundings, the people I meet, and opportunities that may seem vague or invisible.
All our lives are adventures: we can’t peek ahead in our stories to find out what’s in the next chapter. And would you really want it any other way?
So many delightful surprises would be lost. As for those heartbreaking moments, it’s a gift not to see the foreboding future because it would ruin the present.
We can only know there will be curves and many forks in the road. Each one can bring joy, wisdom, growth or heartbreak. Yet, it’s what makes life such a challenging but worthwhile excursion, so live it open to all possibilities.
You can reach Diana Ingram at DIngramThurston21@gmail.com.
