On his one-hundredth birthday: early diary entries about my grandfather Coco with spelling errors intact and modern explanations in blue

1982

August 13—Tomorrow we're going to Virginia. I'm bringing my ET book & story book, diary, Yes & Know book, Garfield book, solitare, paper & pen, Geraldene & Josephene, & bath room things. When I come back I'll write out my movie. I'll work on it at noni & coco's house. I can't wait to get there. I can't wait to see the new rooms! The movie was the script for the sequel to E.T., which I planned to write and then send to Steven Spielberg - and also eventually star in.

August 14—We are at Noni & Coco's house. Edina skis better than any one exept Freddy. Aunt Sally, Uncle Alex & Nana was here. We sang and played piano before going to bed. It was so much fun!

August 16—I got up on the slalom for the 1st time this year.  I did it on my 4th try, Coco honked the horn.  Mom skied 1st time this year they honked the horn for her too.  I didn't stay up.

August 17—I slalomed again but I fell again.  Mom is learning to slalom.  We sank the rowboat.  Frankie had a life jacket on & he got caught under the tipped over rowboat.  Coco saved him.  We went over to Jeff White's house we had a bad time.  They turned off the lights then threw pillows.

August 25—We took a moon light cruse. I learned that the big dipper's last 2 stars point to Polaris, a star. It points to the north Pole. Coco played "the sting" tape in the car to the market my favorite song is Solice & Easy Winners. The moonlight cruise was us going out on Coco's float boat in the evening. Coco was the one who gave me the little astronomy lesson.

August 28—We slept on the boat. I saw a beaver. I saw a shooting star. On it I wished for Stephen Spiellberg to use my movie.

August 31—We went to Baltimore. I went to a giant aquarium & saw a big ship & went to Fort McHenry. I bought 2 pins. 1 was I [heart] Baltimore & 1 was I [heart] E.T. I got E.T. shoelaces & an E.T. keychain. Speaking of E.T. Henry Thomas' middle name is John.

September 2—I slalomed 2wice. I didn't fall! There was a full-full moon. The big Cok took us out to walk around the circle in the midnight. I thought of a new scene for my movie, a dinner table scene. Coco called himself The Big Coke. Sometimes he called himself The Old Coke.

September 3—Tonight was another full moon. We took a long moon light cruse. We saw the Harvest moon. It was yellow. Afterwards we ate Ice Cream & Noni's homemade chocolate syrup & watched "Dallas" The Harvest moon inspired me a song so I'm writing a harvest moon song. The main tune was already made up by me but the rest of the tune & the words (lyrics in professional talk) are for the harvest moon. It's named "Stay, Harvest Moon."


1983

January 25—Noni & Coco came. Noni came to meet us at school. Coco gave me a book on Jacques Philippe Villeré. We did alot of geneology talk. He has a tree (geneology) that goes back to the 1300's!!! I'd sure like a copy of that for my collection of information.

January 26—Coco said he and I can make me a copy of the big geneology tree!

August 5-12—Heather, Edina & I went to Noni's & Coco's. I can slolam on 1 foot. We met 2 German girls (Heikka & Iris) & saw them again when we went to Washington D.C. I saw the Star Spangled Banner.

1984

It's been some time & now it's March 20th. Well, it's finaly come, the day to change PE games. Of course, 'they' said they were going to retake raquetball. We got in line. They switched & I am stuck in raquetball. I knew the time would come and it finally did. I have no partner & will not have one. I hate loneliness and I hate being a teenager. I hate having no friends and I hate this whole bloody mess. Oh well, does it really matter? I knew it would happen sometime. Noni and CoCo and Sassy & Elsa had one last dinner with us (at Shiki) & left for Virginia. Sassy and Elsa were Noni and Coco's dachshunds.

November 18, 1984. I guess this is my last entry in this journal. Noni and Coco, Sassy and Elsa arived yesterday. We took Coco out on a boat ride, rain spitting softly around us. It was a cold, grey day. We came back from the boat and built a warm, crackling fire. It was a good day. I'm to a great part in my book The Talisman. Jack and Wolf were caught by the police and brought to a home. Wolf has turned into a warewolf and is eating everyone.

12/25/84 7:11 P.M. Christmas this year, we had the presents on Christmas eve because Lanaux and Carter had to leave this morning. In here is a way-too-long segment in which I detail all the presents I got. We went out and played fort in the hills. Shena and Mara came by and we took a boat ride with Coco in which we sang songs and saved someone's volleyball. 

2/24/85 9:55. Saturday night, we had a birthday party for Coco. We kids had a chance to go to the Prince concert, but, we couldn’t, because of Coco’s birthday. Oh well, maybe some other time.
       Noni made some great orange cake. I was wearing my new Mickey Mouse shirt, my new grey socks, and fingerless gloves. I talk about my clothes for a while.
       Later on, we got together with Coco and picked oranges in the 'McFerrin orange groves.'

July 16. night. Virginia.
       Today!
       We awoke very early (4:30 for me) and showered and dressed and prepared to leave for the airport. We drove out in the van to the Disneyland hotel, whereupon ariving, we kissed Dad goodbye and borded a bus which took us to the airport. I had with me a suit case (which I have just discovered has no sweat-shirt in it—necessary for a sleap on the boat), a purse (virtually empty), and a carry-on bag filled with cassettes, my walkman, Salem’s Lot, my diary, my little poetry book, a pad of paper, any- and everything to keep me occupied during the flight. We ate a quick breakfast & borded.
       I sat down by a large black woman who was busy crocheting a small pink square (for a scarf, I found out later), and I immediately (I was so proud of myself) said ‘Hi’—the first step in meeting people—the acknowledgment. And, as the plane ride commenced and drew out 5 hours, I learned alot more about this woman. (2nd step—Conversation)
       Well, Virginia, Cross Junction, the Summit is just as green, and old fashioned & beautiful! It’s great to see Noni, Coco, & Nana, again. Along w/Sassy, Elsa, and Didgeridoo.
       We had a swim in the lake & played a small game of Troll. Had freshly baked (& I mean freshly—the berries were picked by Coco, the day before) blackberry pie—baked of course, by Noni. Troll was when we swam in the lake and Coco hid under the pontoons of the float boat and pretended to be a troll.
       Then, we went on a moonlight cruise (there was no moon, but that’s O.K.). There were so many stars it was spectacular. God, how I love the stars! I picked one out and, as usual, wished on it. Then, Noni & I saw a shooting star. I wished on that one, too, for the same thing as before.
       “I want to be a writer.” my mind screamed, “God Dammit, I want to be a writer!”

Friday July 19th. day.
       We’re all on the boat, heading for a place to fish. It’s been a couple of days. We’ve skied a lot—atleast twice a day. We’ve begun to teach Chandler to ski, and he’s gotten up many times; Hasn’t yet mastered the staying-up part, but he’s getting better. Chandler is my brother Frank.
       We’ve stopped, now, in a “finger” that Coco & Noni call THE LITTLE BEAVER FINGER. I’m not sure if Coco coined the name, or not, but the origin is that a small beaver house was built (by beavers, of course. Just incase you didn’t figure it out.) somewhere in this finger.
       It’s beautiful; so unlike Canyon Lake. There are foresty trees bordering it, and not a house, at all. They are mirrored in the glossy surface of the water, etched with sparks of sunlight which is reflected from the sky.
       We’re moving again, past the little beaver house, and up to the opening of the finger. Fish-lines are dropped, and voices, too, and Frankie has already caught the 1st fish.
       So, today, Coco, Edina, Frankie,, and I went out to pick blackberries. These berries will be used to make a blackberry pie for Dad for when he arrives. Aunt Sally & Uncle Alex will arrive on Monday; Lanaux and Carter will be comming up, too, during our stay.
       Every morning, after breakfast, Noni, Coco, Mom, Frankie & I (& Didge) take a walk to work off breakfast. Between that and the skiing, we all should get more in shape than get fat (I.E. Noni’s pies), and that’s good.
       We’re slowly drifting out into the middle of the opening of the Little Beaver Finger, and Edina has caught a fish. Elsa is sleaping under the table and Sassy is dozing on the seat behind me where Mom is fishing also.
       We’ve migrated (myself at the wheel) across the lake to what Coco coined (yes, he did the naming) THE BABY BEAVER COVE, and lines have once again been dropped.
       The next door neighbor to Noni and Coco is a nice German woman called Dam Klinger, who also speaks not a word of English. Well, she sent over a nice apricot cake which I think she baked herself, and today, Edina and I went next door to thank her, knowing only the German word for thankyou.
       So, there was alot of German speech and laughing from her, and some utterances of “Dankershan” (which I am sure I am misspelling) from us. She gave us some 7-up and strange apple danishes to eat, and took us around her house, showing us each item in it and babbling a-mile-a-minute in German, to which we just smiled and said, “uh-huh.” We were back up in the kitchen when we heard Coco’s whistle out in the front—he had come to rescue us. She was a sweet woman, but there was no way to communicate.
       Now, we’re back in our finger, drifting and fishing some more. I have done no fishing, because I have been writing so much.
       After dinner, Mom read to Noni, Nana, and Coco some of my journal-writes, and they laughed. Journal writes were creative writing assignments from school. Oh how happy it made me! She read the one about the Garden of Eden, and when she read the part about “Eve’s mother-in-law, whom they called Serpent”, both Coco and Noni burst out laughing. I mean, it just made me scarlet! I got a good pounding on the floor by Coco’s feet for that one.

July 20. day.
       Dinner, last night, was crabs and corn, which was great. Nummers, nummers, & after dinner, we dressed in warm clothes—I in jeans, a shirt, a sweat shirt, a small jacket, my red knit fingerless gloves, & shoes—and went down with our mattresses and blankets, to sleep on the boat.
       It was great. I was snuggled between Mom & Noni, all warm and cozy, looking up at the stars. The stars, the stars, the wonderful stars! Oh, how I love the stars!
       It was probably the last time we will be able to do that, because it’s not allowed back home. Boohoo! Noni and Coco were going to move from Virginia to California where we lived, so this was our last summer at Cross Junction.
       I love it here. So beautiful.
       I was watching the sun come up, this morning, a bright, yellow-orange, its color spraying down upon the water. And it was one of the most beautiful things I’ve seen. The big orange sun was just peaking through the clouds, shying away from the world, and then peaking out again, casting its glistening (ooh, what a nice word!) tail upon the green mirror lake. Beautiful.

Doing these little posts where I pull pieces from old diaries, I go through computer files where I've transcribed the diaries from books and notebooks. There's a large chunk of time where those books and notebooks haven't been transcribed. After 1995 nothing is transcribed until the year 2000 when I started doing all my journaling by computer. This last segment below is from the next computerized journal after the break  that mentions Coco...

Monday, January 15, 2001, 10:15 am—Oh God, I slept in. Stayed up until after 3 last night. So, Day three: 7:00-9:00, 10:30-2:00, finished up with the flesh tones on figure and mirror reflection figure for white page. 3:00-4:30, background including bear in mirror, little details. ...I write about painting for a while. I was working on my Magical Trunk children's book. A small press publisher was going to be publishing it and I was rushing to finish illustrations before we went on the road for the next circus season, I think. So, yesterday I painted for a total of 12 ½ hours. Now all I have to do on white page is the hair details and the white makeup on face. And snow to do later, I think. Sometime yesterday I was painting and happened to turn and look over my shoulder to the picture of Noni and Coco on the end table. I glance at it a lot, but yesterday I looked at him and my mind said, I'll never see him again, and without warning I was crying. Seemed like my eyes teared up even before I felt the emotion of it. Strange not to be able to see someone ever again.

a moment in the day: decision

I'm driving Stephen to work, and we're making a decision, even though we're not saying so. Noni's funeral in Arlington. Maybe I made my decision earlier, sitting in front of the computer, looking at prices for flights, doing the theoretical math in my head of airfare plus hotel plus transportation plus eating out plus eating out, but a decision isn't really a decision until you say it out loud.

Stephen and I drive in silence under pink and white blossom trees. Once when I was a kid, visiting Noni and Coco in Virginia, we went to Winchester for their famous Apple Blossom Festival. Beautiful old, Colonial buildings and block after block of flowering trees. That's all I remember from that time. That, and the continuing notion that all things lovely and exotic could happen in the company of Noni and Coco.

My memory of that time - and all those wonderful childhood times - is more like a picture postcard than a movie in my head, now. A picture of a moment. Or rather, it's just a picture of a picture of a picture of a moment, and even though I know that every time you remember something, you're only remembering the last memory of the memory before it, I make my memory take another picture of Noni and Coco and all those flowers, for safe keeping.

It's not really just about Noni, of course. Going out for the funeral would be a chance to be with these people I rarely see - Mom and Dad, aunts and uncles, cousins. A decision isn't really a decision until you say it out loud, and so, driving under the pink and white blossom trees, I make my decision: I'm going to let Stephen say it.

He gives a little sigh. "I guess people who are maybe thinking about buying a house should be careful with their money."

I just say, "Yeah."

We pull up at the curb and I let him out. I tell him to have a good day. I head to the grocery store.

On the radio, the classical station is playing that show where they examine the music of the cinema, and today's topic is leitmotif. Recurring musical phrases that embody certain characters or themes in a film (or opera, for that matter). They're playing a piece from Star Wars. An ominous repeat of a single note, then a trio of notes - big John Williams orchestra with the march of an Imperial army underneath. Darth Vader's theme. Just the thought of the great battle of the Rebel forces against the evil Galactic Empire makes me start to cry.

fifteen facts about noni

She used to sing on the tops of pianos while my grandfather played. Her songs of choice were about philandering house cats and houses of ill repute. 

She was a great lover of food. I remember she'd be in my mom and dad's kitchen, visiting, Noni at one end of the counter and Mom at the other. As they chatted, Noni would idly eat six or seven chocolates out of a box there on the counter and then complain that, "I don't know why I don't lose weight. I'm never hungry."

We share first names (Eugenia). Whereas my nickname is Gigi, hers is Jeanie. Genie? I never knew how she spelled it, actually. Coco called her Euge. Which always sounded to me like he was calling her Huge.

When I was a kid, we'd fly to Virginia where Noni and Coco lived on a lake. Coco and we kids would be in the water all the time, skiing, floating, swimming. When we tried to get Noni to swim, she'd say, "Oh no, I don't go in the water." Then at some point during the month-long visit (we all knew it would happen and were waiting for it) we'd be on the boat and whoosh, Noni would go over the side, into the water, and come up laughing.

A consummate story-teller, always a great holder of court at any party, she was the best teller of jokes that I know of. Especially dirty ones.

She made homemade peach ice cream and blackberry pie.

In the hospital on the last day she was feeling chipper, she said she'd been sitting with her memories and told us the story of how my grandfather proposed to her. I'll try to remember and paraphrase. He said, "Eugenia? I think I'm in love with you. What do you think of that?" She said, "I think I'm in love with you, too." He said, "Well, then! I think we should get married." Then stood up and fell down the porch steps.

She lived all over the world, from Holland to Japan, and she loved to travel, particularly to France, where she and Coco would rent a house and shop for local ingredients and Noni would cook gourmet meals. She and Coco both spoke French. When we were kids, visiting them at Lake Holiday, they'd go into French anytime they wanted to say something children shouldn't hear.

For ten years, she lived in a retirement community called Park Plaza. She was so friendly and energetic that she was pretty much the poster child for the place. In fact, pretty much literally. -->

That's a vanilla shake she's drinking there. On one of her last days, the director of Park Plaza offered to go get her one, but she wasn't much interested in food anymore. She was just interested in lying peacefully with her memories, with her loved ones holding her hand, and waiting to go join Coco.

Her dogs, Lady Sassafrass and Elsa, were the start of our family's short-lived tradition of owning miniature dachshunds. Elsa was larger and loved sleeping in the sunshine, often on the floor of their float boat. Because of the resemblance, Noni and Coco lovingly called her the Fat Pig in the Sun. Sassy lived a very long time and was the kind of lap dog who would jump up and down, chairside to Noni, scratching at Noni's leg with her front paws until Noni let her up onto her lap. Noni was a doggy pushover almost as much as I am. I remember evenings at Lake Holiday, Noni, Coco and us kids having vanilla ice cream with chocolate sauce, and when she was done, Noni always put her dish down for them to lick. 

Friendly to a fault, always wanting to talk to everyone, she was known to chat with folks in stores and casually explain to them (and reveal) the password to all her bank accounts.

I said she was a great lover of food - I really think of her as a great lover of life. Equal parts spunk and refined lady of the world. Summers at Lake Holiday were some of the most wonderful days of my childhood. Highlights were the so-named Moonlight Cruises on the boat with Pavarotti playing on the tape deck. And the one night each year when we'd sleep on the boat. Crabs for dinner, packed by Noni into a picnic basket. The bucket on the bow for if you needed to pee in the middle of the night. We'd anchor in the Beaver Finger, where the beaver house was, so that, early in the morning, we could wake up in the chill and watch the smooth water for signs of beavers. Usually Edina would see one first. I'd look and look but only catch the slap of a beaver's tail hitting the water as he warned us to keep away from his house, and then he was gone.

Highlights of family parties were always when Coco sat down at the piano and played our family songs, by ear, with everyone singing along. "Egyptian Ella." "Rickety Tickety Tin." "With Her Head Tucked Underneath her Arm." Noni's solo came late in the proceedings. You always knew she'd have to be coaxed to get up there and perform, but you always knew that, in the end, she'd do it.

On the last day of Noni's life, I was already back in Portland, having said my goodbyes. She went as she'd wanted to. At home and at peace. And on that last day, when she was asked if she wanted anything to eat, she said, "Chocolate."

essay

Try to write an essay. Think about your past. Try to make connections between the person you are now and the person you were then, but the person you were then is lost inside the blind blank of your memory.

Read your diary. Try to find the part of your past that will serve the essay you're trying to write.

Get lost. Get cushy in the lostness of all the details behind the blind blank of your memory.

You're sixteen. You just got a haircut and a perm. You're bursting with the bigness of your life.

A direct quote, errors intact:

I'm getting my braces off, on Tuesday. Noni and Coco are here, but they're going to be going home to the Summit before Tuesday. Noni loves my hair. She says I look like a cross between Brooke Shields and Audry Hepburn. I wonder what Audry Hepburn looks like.

a moment in the day: claro que si

Stephen is speaking Spanish to Nicholas.  Holding him close, up to his face and purring Spanish against his furry  neck.

"Claro," Stephen tells him.

"Claro que si," I say. And then, "What does claro que si mean?"

Not what does it mean but what does it literally translate to. Because I know que and I know si and I know what the phrase means, but I don't think I've ever looked up the literal translation of the phrase. When I was a kid, we had a live-in housekeeper named Carmen, and we picked up some Spanish from her. To reinforce this, Mom sent us to a Spanish class for a while. But when I got around to learning languages in school, I chose French since we were ancestrally French and my name was French and Noni and Coco used to speak French at the dinner table when they wanted to say things the grand kids couldn't understand, and sacré bleu, how romantic would it be to speak French as a secret language.

Sadly, French pushed Spanish out of my brain and then jumped out behind it.

"Claro means clear," Stephen says. "So: clear - that - yes."

Which, when it comes down to it, does mean what I picked up as a meaning when Carmen used the phrase all the time when I was a kid. Strange to realize that I knew, really knew, what this expression meant, without having been told and without knowing the translation. Just from the context of her use.

Language is a remarkable thing.