Jack Frick & Synchronicity

Last night we got stuck in the Phoenix Airport because our airplane to take us home had a mechanical. It was about 11 pm when we checked into our hotel, and a little less than 100 degrees outside, and inside our room.

This morning we made our way back to the airport, and my tiredness led me to the Starbucks that was installed next to our gate. My mom followed, wearing her brand new “Frick” shirt from the Frick winery in California. While waiting in line, the Frick shirt caught the eye of the man standing in front of me and told my mom that he had the same last name.

I couldn’t believe it, because what-are-the-chances, you say… Well we talked briefly on Frick-based history such as the possibility of our roots tying back to the same locations, aka, being related somehow. Then the barista placed my drink and his on the counter simultaneously and he asked, “Is this the hot chocolate?” She said yes, slid the drink towards him, and on the cup was written in marker:

JACK

I didn’t say much else because I didn’t really register it in a way that I could immediately jump into explaining the background of my Grandpa Jack and what the whole trip was about.

I told my dad about it, and as it seemed more and more unbelievable, we hunted him down at his departure gate. He and his wife were there and introduced themselves to my dad.

Sure enough, name was Jack Frick, named after his father, Jack Frick.

The conversation and connection was pretty amazing to me, so I asked them if I could take their photo for my blog.

Like Fricks, they kindly agreed.

The Frick Winery

Early this morning my dad came to the hotel room I’m sharing with Erin, Josh, and Natalie and said, “C’mon guys, we’re going to be late. We’re all meeting for breakfast.”

“Where are we meeting?” I ask.

“At…

…The Pantry.”

Today we had to drive 6 hours south to Oakland because all of the flights in town were too full. Before cramming in the van with 6 adults and a baby, what did I eat? A huge omlette with hashbrowns and beef from…

The Pantry.

About 4 hours later we stopped in a little town called Willits and I ate a salad like it was medication.

There were vineyards all along the freeway during the drive, and my Dad knew of one where they make “Frick” branded wine.

We stopped in, met Bill Frick, the man who started Frick winery. While the place seemed to be in the middle of nowhere, it was set up like an enchanted secret place that is wedged somwhere in a timeless reality as if the wise-being holding guard is also serving you, and fully understanding that souls only come about to visit once every few creations.

I knocked back a few wine samples until I found out you can’t actually get just a single glass of wine like a bar, you have to buy a bottle. I let mum and dad keep the peace with Bill Frick, and keep-the-peace they did by buying $75 worth in Frick winery merchadise and a bottle of Cinsaut (Sin-SO) Rose.

I still get nervous about wine tasting for fear that I’m not spitting, sniffing, or reacting enough.

Jack Frick’s Funeral

Today we had the funeral. The family got together and talked about the life of Grandpa Jack in the form of an open mic testimonial of the amazing life experiences each of his 7 children shared with him.

Obituary:

John R. “Jack” Frick of McKinleyville, CA, died at home surrounded by family, on July 26, 2011 after a brief illness.

Born in Kansas City, MO to Charles and Margaret Frick, Jack was the youngest of six children. During WWII, he proudly helped build the B-25 bomber and later served as Radioman in the United States Coast Guard.

Meeting his true love and Irish lass at a church picnic, Jack married in 1951, thus beginning his legacy as a loving husband and devoted father. Concurrently, he established a near 30-year-career in Wage Administration for North American Aviation and later, at the Lawrence Livermore Laboratory.

His heart and soul will forever live on with his surviving spouse of 60 years, Catherine, sons and daughters, Ellen, Kevin, Tim, Brian, Teresa, Patty, and Charles, their spouses, sixteen grandchildren, and two great-grandchildren.

Jack was a life-long and devout Catholic. The Rosary will be recited at Christ the King Catholic Church, 1951 Mckinleyville Ave., Mckinleyville, Ca. at 7:00 PM Thursday, July 28, 2011 with a Funeral mass at 11:00 AM Friday, July 29, 2011. Arrangements are under the care of Goble’s Fortuna Mortuary, Fortuna, Ca.

The Pantry

We’re staying at the Comfort Inn in Arcata, CA. It was the best deal we could find for the lowest price that 5-stains-or-less could offer.

Across the street there is an eggs-ketchup-&-burgers restaurant called The Pantry. I already had eaten the continental breakfast at the hotel across from ours, but I decided to eat again. My mom got a “side” of fries. They’re so generous at family restaurants.

An hour later, my sister and Tim had just flown in and were hungry, so we headed over to the Greek restaurant across from The Pantry and I ate again. By this point I was getting pretty full.

After eating at the Greek place, we went to my Grandpa’s Rosary ceremony. When it was over, people started talking about maybe getting some food somewhere, we all looked at eachother and somebody said, “I know! let’s go to this place called The Pantry.”

I ate a hot fudge sundae for dinner because I was kind of getting tired of eating the actual meals at The Pantry. After that, everybody sang happy birthday to my cousin Vanessa. Then everybody sang happy birthday to yours truly, because mine was yesterday.

Nobody really wanted to leave The Pantry, so I left early to sip some Jameson with Josh in 106, and cousins caught wind of the party and joined us and we all gave a toast to Jack Frick.

Real Life

We had a family gathering at the house to celebrate my sister’s stay in ABQ for a few days. Tim, my sister’s boyfriend, flew in to join the family bash today. Everyone brought their dogs along with things like chips ‘n dip.

My camera went missing for about 10 minutes, then I found this picture on the camera when I got it back:

Mum made pork loin for dinner. I often get curious about what new company may experience at our dinner table. There’s never really a stable conversation exchanged about usual life-things; mostly a lot of gags based on previous jokes. I don’t even know if our interaction is funny or even understandable to outsiders.

After dinner, Mum and I had a conversation about her encounter with a spiritual medium when she was a teenager, and how most of the medium’s predictions about her life came true. I asked her if she thought it was an overall positive or negative experience. She said that at first she thought it was silly, then later was a little freaked out about it, and came to think it was evil. Intrigued, I told her about past semi-psychic experiences I’ve had where some of my dreams contained events which later came true, which seemed to be positive for me.

These are the conversations I like to have with my mum.

Meet my parents.

From my mom’s recent travel album entitled, “Insterstellar travel with Kevin”.