Well, I've had an absolutely delightful couple of days. The kids and I did indeed go to Youngstown, where we had lunch with Don . . .



. . . whom we haven't seen in a decade, and who impressed me mightily by actually introducing himself to the kids, as if they were meeting for the first time. Which of course, from the perspective of Charlie and Emma, they were. At lunch he told them stories about working with Grandpa and the uncles, and about high school with their father, and they listened with rapt attention. I've missed Don. Political differences came between him and Emil, but I think he's an incredibly decent person, on many counts. I was glad to reconnect with him.

Then we went to Erie, to hang out at the beach. We picked Budny:



. . . and Emma liked it:



On the way, we got sort of lost (it's hard to get really lost on Presque Isle), and saw the houseboats:



Presque Isle is getting a bit closer to the 21st century these days. There's a bicycle livery out there now, and there's a water taxi that will take you from the park to the pier in downtown Erie. (Why you'd want to do that is beyond me, since there's still virtually nothing to do once you get there . . . )

And never let it be said that Erie-ites can't spot a trend:





Okay, so they spotted it about ten years after it had hit and fizzled in the rest of the nation . . . plus ca change, plus la meme chose . . .

We also took a spin by the old house:



We made a game effort to find 124 Norman Way - where Clarence and Susan and Katie and Ben lived - too, but after the first few turns didn't succeed, I abandoned the attempt because Charlie was getting impatient with the trips down Memory Lane - they weren't his memories, after all. (But the house on Norman Way! Emma remembers that place, but she doesn't remember the house we lived in . . . )

But undoubtedly the best part of the trip, hands down, was the car. The Uncles and Grandpa gave Charlie Uncle Carl's 1989 Mitsubishi Sigma. This turned out to be a terrific thing all the way around: Charlie really wanted a car; he's been driving our old Subaru and doesn't see himself as a Station Wagon Kinda Guy . . . and the uncles, well. I had thought that Uncle Joe, who is recovering from hip surgery (he broke his hip repairing the neighbor's washing machine - pulled on a bolt and fell over . . . ) and is scheduled for cataract surgery, was a bit depressed. It's taking him a lot longer to get around than he'd like - of course, you have to bear in mind that he is also recovering WA-AAAY faster than they expected . . . but nonetheless, he hates being sidelined. I had been wishing we'd brought Em's defunct iBook, because he seriously needs something to fix . . .

Oh, yeah, the car. Well, the uncles got to show Charlie all the car's bells and whistles (there are a lot). I took a movie:





It brought back lots and lots of memories about Emil and me getting cars from them . . . all of which exacted a certain bounty: Forever after, every conversation with Emil's father began with, "So how's the car running?" Since most of them were kept on the road by virtue of Uncle Joe's magic, the answer was never anything Emil's father wanted to hear . . . and always there would be some bit of maintenance that we would be told to perform, and mostly never do . . . so the maintenance would figure in to subsequent conversations, cast, of course, in terms of the wonderfulness of the automobiles as contrasted with our incorrigible irresponsibility - and then, of course, the cars would die. Sometimes spectacularly. Like, the time Emil was delivering pizzas in the Mazda, and got rear-ended, which somehow, someway, caused the engine to seize. Hoo, boy. Try to explain that one.

So Charlie made his Faustian bargain, and we drove off. The Sigma broke down in what I believe is record time - 50 miles outside of Youngstown, it died, and had to be towed back to the uncles' house, whereupon the uncles swarmed around it in extremely characteristic fashion. Much, much deliberation about what had happened:



Much of the deliberation involved swearing. I got some movies of that, too . . .





At any rate, Uncle Joe tottered out (he really is shaky on his feet, even with the cane) with TWO voltmeters and a battery charger, and it was eventually determined that the alternator had gone. So the kids and I took off for home, and will pick up the car when it's repaired.

The reason I was so happy about this turn of events is that the prospect of repairing the car really perked everyone up - the uncles and Grandpa have more happy tasks ahead of them than they have had in a long time, that much is clear. And Charlie is really eager to get the car. And - weirdly enough - grandchildren are obviously not children: Grandpa seemed very contrite about the alternator, and eager to make things right. And the kids got to see Grandpa and the uncles in top form; they stood at the edge of the driveway and laughed, most of the time. They had heard stories about these interactions, but really had never seen them.

And we have an excuse to go back very soon.

All in all, it was a wonderful family bonding experience!