The kin folk said, "Jeff, move away from there...."

They said California is the place I ought to be....

Ever since I moved out to the heartland in 1992, my parents have thought (hoped) that I'd move back to the "Golden State." When I got divorced, they just knew I'd be heading back soon.
Sixteen years later, their feelings might finally be changing. After their visit here this month, they not only understand why we like living here, but more importantly, that this is the environment that will allow Elijah to grow and thrive.

The visit didn't start out great. My mom got motion sickness on the train (yes, they took the train here) and injured her hand as well. When I picked them up at the train station, my mom was queasy, and her hand looked like a purple claw. I insisted that she go to the emergency room, which led to their first surprise.

My parents love watching TV. One of their favorite shows is "ER," and I know they didn't expect to see George Clooney when I took them to a nearby hospital, but they thought there would be blood and trauma situations lined up to the door. Instead, it was quiet, clean, quick and efficient, which eased some of my parents' worries.

Once we took care of my mom, we came back to the house, and Elijah really enjoyed seeing them. In fact, later in the day when some pain pills my mom had taken caused her to doze off, Elijah got right in her face and said, "WAKE UP GRANDMA!"

Since they had been here before, the visit didn't really involve that much sightseeing. They did go to a children's farmstead (an area with all kinds of attractions including farm animals, a pond for fishing, a gorgeous butterfly garden and a turn-of-the-century schoolhouse) , which really is an amazing place considering it is in the heart of one of the richest counties in the nation -- and is totally free. The weather cooperated, and they seemed to enjoy themselves. What was more important was that Elijah got to know his grandparents from California and saw them in his environment, which made him more comfortable.

My parents got to see his school (and the fact that there are more peer models, therapists and instructors in his class than special-needs students) with its large library and large grassy areas (remember, I grew up with blacktop playgrounds that had rubber mats). They also attended one of his "sponsored" (i.e. free to us) speech therapy sessions at the university that he has been getting over the past couple of years. These sessions are among the reasons we believe one of his speech problems -- pronoun reversal -- has improved dramatically.

But most importantly, they watched him create and draw, laugh and demand (usually tickles and Oreo cookies) and jump all over the place. They got to see him as the little boy he is, who, despite some quirkiness, loved being with his family (grandparents included) and interacting with them (on his terms, of course!).

The day my parents left coincided with our neighborhood's annual block party. There was delicious BBQ, clowns making balloon animals and, most importantly to Elijah, a moonwalk he would not get out of, even with lots of other kids inside. (Another milestone -- in the past, he could not stay in a moonwalk if there was more than one other child inside.) It seemed the perfect coda for the symphony of not only why we live here, but why the lifestyle suits us so well. Could Elijah get all the services in Los Angeles that he has here? Maybe, but I don't think they would be as good, and I know they wouldn't be as cheap (free!). Would the faster pace of life in L.A. pass Elijah by, leaving in its wake some moment when growth and chances of development are lost? I don't know. But I can honestly say that this is the best place for us, and after this last visit, my parents will agree.

And to show how important grandma and grandpa had become in his mind, Elijah insisted on placing two of his most prized possessions on the bed in the guest bedroom. As he told me the day after my parents had left, "Woody and Jessie are sleeping just like grandpa and grandma" and he hasn't moved them since that night.

One last point: Mom, at nine o'clock at night, when there are twenty cars on the major road to get from our house to downtown, that is not traffic. I hesitate to ask how long your trip from the train station to the Valley took during rush hour. In fact, have you gotten home yet?