Trailer Trash

Now on my 3rd week in the mobile home park, I’m observing Maslow’s hierarchy of basic needs: chicken wings, cheap beer, and shelter. I gave up employment, morality and self-actualization in favor of a good tan. When I take a shower it sets off the fire alarm. I have a variety of outfits (and tutu) in the car just in case I come across a cultural event. When it rains I poke the ceiling tiles to make sure they are intact. I even had a make-out session on the futon (yes, with a human). My cousin is showing up soon with a blow up mattress to crash on the floor. Best of all, I now qualify for Medicaid – I’m a welfare queen, sucking away your tax dollars. It turns out that eligibility is completely based on current income; assets and savings don’t matter.

I encouraged Dad to play bingo today so that he could get free ice cream. Much to my surprise he won the game – twice. I’ve played karaoke bingo for years and never won. Dad was a bingo virgin. Therefore I took his prizes; it seemed fair considering my sacrifices to make his life comfortable. Bingo here is not quite the same experience as what I’m used to in Seattle - when “O-69” was called, the geriatric crowd didn’t moan. I asked the 12-year old volunteer who was serving Sid about how he liked community service in lieu of jail time, and what crime did he commit? The kid laughed – nervously.

Back to the beach.

Day of the Dead

November 1 is a special day, Dia de los Muertos, in Latin American Catholic culture. The departed are honored with singing, dancing and flowered altars. As a nice Jewish Atheist girl from NY, it’s my favorite holiday, hard to explain but it feels right. Two years ago I placed pictures of my mother and my favorite cat on an altar in Seattle to honor their impact. Today I placed a photo of Sam, who died 6 months ago, on the community altar in Encinitas. Those who knew and loved Sam will agree that he would enjoy a good party in a beach town (thank you Caron, for supplying the picture.)

I brought Dad to the celebration and explained the holiday; he was delighted by the mariachi bands and costumed children. He liked the idea of embracing death with humor and entertainment. I didn’t share what I did at the altar, or why I made a sugar skull with an orange beard. We were at the event for 3 hours and Dad didn’t fall asleep once. He’s still chuckling about how the hosts of the organic chicken farm/AirBnB hideaway showed up at happy hour last week (I invited them). My buddies thoroughly enjoyed the geriatric scene and free booze. While they absolutely stood out with their blond ponytails and surfer outfits, they were warmly received by the little old ladies. I played ukulele for the crowd, badly, however it didn’t matter.

Cada día es un regalo (every day is a gift).