18 PUNCHMAGAZINE.COM {sloane citron} Friday was our last day. Despite my efforts to convince him otherwise, he wanted to have lunch again at the golf course restaurant. We ordered a repeat of the day before, but the waitress came out and told us they were out of rice. It’s that kind of place. In exchange, the cook said that he would serve us scrambled eggs, hashbrowns and toast, which I had tried to order the day before but was refused since it was after noon. Evan is a good eater and never needs cajoling into finishing a meal. But he is not quick, so we were there a good hour while my little grandson finished off his entire plate. From there we headed up north, following a route that only Waze could create, to the Fitzgerald Marine Preserve. Though I knew it was the wrong time to visit because the tide would be high, we still had a great time. We played in the small streams, jumped rocks, looked at far-off seals and studied shells. Evan is cautious but did great at navigating the rocks in the streams of water. “Saba, slow and steady wins the race,” he told me more than once. We saw hiking trails, so we headed up into the forested area next to the tidepools. It was inspiring being within the canopy of the large, beautiful trees. With no one else there, it was our magic forest, and Evan kept exclaiming, “Saba, this is the most beautiful place I’ve ever been.” And he might have been correct. My three afternoons with Evan were a singular treat, adventures that we’ll remember. And they solidly met my criteria of family, memories and happiness. When I dropped Evan off after the last of our three days of hanging out, neither of us wanted it to end. Evan kept saying, “Saba, don’t leave.” But with a heart filled with joy, I climbed into my car, knowing our next playdate was just around the corner. I’ve learned to grab any chance at family, memories and happiness. So when my son Josh and his wife Adara asked if I could possibly pick up my grandson, Evan, from golf camp and entertain him for a few days, I jumped at the opportunity. At five years old, Evan is the eldest of my seven grandchildren and we’re good pals. Like all the other kids, he calls me Saba, Hebrew for grandfather. Evan had golf camp every day for a week, starting at 8:30 in the morning and ending at 12:30. My job for three consecutive days was to pick him up, feed him lunch, entertain him and get him home safely by 5:30. My little guy loves golf and for a five-year-old, he’s pretty good. Josh and I take him to play—either at the driving range or on a course—and he hangs in there. On our first day, I picked him up at 12:30 sharp. With no real plan in mind, we headed over the hill straight for Half Moon Bay’s Main Street. We landed at Johnny’s, a friendly local restaurant, where we got egg salad sandwiches and fries. Always fries. We wandered along the street and went into some interesting shops. In one of them, Evan found small ceramic turtles that he pined for, but I wrangled him out of the shop while promising him that I’d consider coming back for them. Then we headed to the Pillar Point Harbor, where we wandered down the pier. Though the fishing boats were done for the day, we still meandered about, and I explained to Evan about the anchors, nets, cages and other stuff generally found on these boats. We also caught sight of several seals, and, of course, Evan wanted to feed them. We ran into a grizzly old fisherman with unkempt hair carrying a 12-pack of beer and I stopped him. The three of us had a good conversation about the world of commercial fishing. I tried to insinuate that we would like to see his boat, but no invitation was forthcoming. I kicked myself afterward for not asking him directly, because I think he would have said yes. Afterward, we returned to downtown Half Moon Bay to buy the small ceramic turtles that Evan had coveted (also, he insisted, for his sister Mara). It’s hard for me to say no to his sweet requests. After that, I returned him home and got back to my house, a bit worn out from our full afternoon. The next day, we decided to have lunch at the golf course restaurant, a somewhat rundown place that has seen better times. Evan had his favorite rice with teriyaki sauce. Afterward, we headed south for 30 minutes to Hidden Villa to see what we could see. We wandered through the ramshackle place, petting goats and sheep and trying to catch lizards. We had great fun and Evan sat down on one of the benches to share some of his favorite riddles. When he tells them with his lisp (as I, “Thloane Thitron,” once had), he’s just so darn cute. The best one was, “What is wobbly and in the sky?” I asked Evan for the answer. He quietly said, “A jellycopter” and we both laughed. He kept telling jokes until he had run out and started making up ones that made no sense. Finally, it was time to head for home, another wonderful adventure down. three days of adventure
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