story
Volume 35, Number 3

The Last Stop Vineyard

Jonathan B. Ferrini

Hal and I were high school sweethearts.

We graduated high school in June of ’66 and were married that month. Our honeymoon was a quick weekend trip to Yosemite and my bridal suite was inside an abandoned ranger’s cabin courtesy of my father who retired from the Forest Service. It didn’t matter. We were in love, and that musty old cabin could have been a five-star hotel as far as we were concerned.

Hal enlisted in the Air Force and reported to basic training the following week. It was the beginning of a whirlwind worldwide adventure we would never have dreamed of growing up in a small town named Bakersfield, California.

I was a dutiful military wife. While Hal was maintaining aircraft, I was keeping our home, raising our baby daughter and making the most comfortable life I could with the resources provided by the Air Force.

After spending thirty years in the Air Force, Hal retired, and quickly found a second career with a large American aircraft manufacturer, earning him a second pension after twenty years. We were fortunate to have spent Hal’s second career near Edwards AFB in Lancaster, California, where the Space Shuttle would land after returning from space.

We’re comfortable and have spent our retirement years traveling. Most of our international travel was courtesy of the Air Force, but now we spend a considerable amount of time putting around from state to state in Hal’s pride and joy, an RV with all the comforts of a home. Our goal is to visit all of the National Parks.

We’ve spent the last month visiting the Bay Area. We loved it and decided to head north across the Golden Gate bridge, which we’d never seen and into the wine country of Napa Valley and Sonoma. Neither of us are wine enthusiasts but appreciate agriculture and the beautiful vineyards.

Hal’s service in the Air Force afforded us the opportunity to visit the most beautiful wine regions of the world but Hal prefers American beer. I sampled wines at social events and an occasional romantic dinner. I can take it or leave it.

Hal has slowed down of late, and I have taken over the driving. Hal worked hard, and I see the wear and tear of his fifty years of climbing in and out of aircraft bellies slow him down. Hal was a certified Master Mechanic and also a master of the “Honey Do” list. He could fix anything around the house, and I saw him build homes from the slab up and cars from scratch finding parts at no cost from salvage yards.

Hal was diagnosed with early-onset dementia. The doctor confided in me that drug therapy may stave off the progression of cognitive decline, but the worst is yet to come, when he will no longer recognize me. Hal’s forgetfulness is apparent. It breaks my heart to see him wonder aimlessly and unable to complete even the smallest chore. He struggled to hang a picture frame, and he grows frustrated reading instructions requiring assembling. He’s forgetting the most common items kept in drawers inside the kitchen. Our garage, which became Hal’s workshop, remains shuttered. It saddens me to remove the cobwebs and dust collecting inside the garage because it’s a metaphor for his deteriorating mind.

I cry watching Hal observing the utility workers climb poles and dig trenches, reminding him of working with his hands. The workers don’t mind because they know he’s one of “them” from the nature of Hal’s questions while proudly wearing his hardhat and vest. Many of the workers will wink at me, and at times, permit Hal to gather the traffic cones at the completion of the job. I think they know instinctively one day their time may come, and it’s best to be kind to a curious old man.

We loved the beautiful Napa Valley region of California. We meandered from winery to winery and enjoying the scenery.

With each tasting, I was reminded of periods of our long life together.

Cabernet: “Strong and full-bodied.” Our youth.

Sauvignon: “Distinctive characteristics like bright acidity and vibrant flavors.” Young married couple in love.

Pinot: “Medium bodies, bright, and silky.” Middle age, together.

Chardonnay: “Least amount of sweetness.” Our life as senior citizens.

As I drove the RV out of the last winery on our list and towards the highway, Hal fell asleep and was dreaming. I heard him mutter,

“Mom?

“Dad?

“Rebecca?”

Although I was following the GPS directing us towards the freeway, I became distracted by Hal’s tossing and turning. We found ourselves on a deserted highway. Fortunately, I spotted the sign,

“The Last Stop Vineyard”

I needed directions and couldn’t help but pull in. Something else, however, beckoned me.

It was a beat-up old vineyard, and we’d learn what it lacked in style, it made up for with love like a complex wine.

I parked the rig and awakened Hal. Out from the tiny wood frame and stone tasting room with a small house attached came a young woman who introduced herself.

“Welcome to our winery. My name is Angelita. Please come inside and make yourselves comfortable.”

A tractor pulled up to the tasting room and off came a young man who moved about adroitly despite one of his legs being a prosthetic.

“Hello, I’m Alberto. Welcome to our winery.”

“I’m Marge and this is my husband, Hal.”

“You manage very well with the prosthetic leg, son.”

“Be tactful, Hal!”

“Which conflict, son?”

“Afghanistan, Hal. I was in the Infantry and was introduced to an IED. Without my beautiful wife by my side day and night, I don’t think I would have made it out of Walter Reed Hospital, alive.”

“I was career Air Force, Alberto. Two tours in Vietnam. My job was to maintain the fighter jets and bombers, which we prayed kept the soldiers fighting in the bush safe.”

“Thank you for your service, Hal.”

“You have my extreme respect and gratitude, too, kid.”

Hal and Alberto hit it off.

Angelita and Alberto were a lovely twenty-something couple reminding me of ourselves at their age. They were full of energy, optimism, perseverance and that “love will conquer all” spirit I recall when beginning my journey with Hal.

“How’d you acquire this beautiful vineyard, kids?”

“We bought this aging, closed winery with a VA loan and a prayer.”

“Hal and I are very impressed! Do you have many employees?”

“We’re the only employees, Marge.

“Alberto does all the harvesting, and we sell most of the crop to area wineries who bottle the wine and sell under their own labels. Our grapes are finding their way into the bottles of very well-known labels but when we bought the place, it only came with an old wine press. The bottle at the top of the display case with the blue ribbon was our first bottle with our own label.”

“Why does it have a blue ribbon?”

“It’s representing Alberto’s dream of having a son to hand this place over to one day, Marge.”

“We’ve developed a loyal following of area wineries, and in time, we hope to save enough money to bottle our own wines.”

“Are the wines on display your own?”

“Yes, Marge. Please open a bottle of the white and red for Margie and Hal, Angelita.”

It was a cute but very small inventory of wine. I could tell all of the shelving was handmade. Traces of dust appeared on the bottles, and I surmised the tasting room didn’t see many, if any, visitors.

“So, your label is called ‘The Last Stop Vineyard’?”

“It’s quite a metaphor, huh?”

“This soil and business are truly the ‘The Last Stop’ for me and Angelita, Hal. We’ll make this little vineyard a success or die trying!”

We sat and were served a variety of wines in a sparse but sweet vineyard owned and operated by a young husband and wife team. They were grateful to have us and treated us like family. Angelita served a variety of cheeses, crackers and Mexican appetizers.

They were in love and determined to make it although I feared the deck was “stacked against them” as beginning life today is more difficult than it was for me and Hal, but I was reminded of our early struggle’s.

“That’s a beautiful John Deere, Alberto.”

“It’s held together with chewing gum and tape, Hal.”

“It’s a 1960 model 4010. My pop had one just like it. Change the oil, keep it lubricated, and it will never let you down, Alberto.”

“Follow me, and I’ll let you take it for a spin. Excuse us, ladies.”

“Be careful, Hal.”

“Don’t worry, dear. “It’s like ‘riding a bike.’”

“Hal is so cute, Marge. He’s acts like a big kid.”

“Sadly, in more ways than one, Angelita. He’s in cognitive decline, and I don’t know how much longer he’ll be able to recognize me.”

“I’m so sorry, Marge, but I know the fear of losing your husband. I remember those tear-filled nights falling asleep near Alberto’s bed at Walter Reed.”

“I sense you’re sad, dear. What’s going on?”

“Alberto works so much, I’m lonely. I feel like he’s married to his work and not me.”

“I felt the same way but I learned our husbands are defined by their work. Support them, and they’ll always support you in their own way.”

“I don’t think Alberto understands me. I’m unable to conceive, and I think Alberto resents it. The doctors offer some hope but the procedures are expensive and we can’t afford it.”

“I’m so sorry, dear. We lost our only daughter to leukemia as a child. Her name was Rebecca. She would have been your age. Hal never mentions her. I suspect it’s too painful. It tore us apart but also brought us closer in ways we never imagined. If it wasn’t for Hal’s strength, I would have killed myself.”

“I can’t imagine the pain of losing a child, Marge.”

“I pray you never will, but I know you kids are still young with your entire lives ahead of you. I suspect this darling vineyard will provide the money, love and Mother Nature’s assistance for you to conceive. Never stop believing and be patient with your body like you are with a stubborn vine in the field. In your relations with Alberto, put your feelings in terms he’ll understand like a section of the vineyard requiring more attention and love than it’s receiving. He’ll understand, dear.

“I’ve learned we can’t control life but we can control our abilities to cope with disappointment and tragedy. You and Alberto will do just fine like me and Hal.”

“Look at Alberto and Hal out driving the old tractor like kids. I wonder what they’re speaking about, Marge?”

“If I know my husband, Hal is providing Alberto a lesson you’ll appreciate.”

“Let me pour you another glass while we watch the ‘kids’ at play, Marge.”

*

“I haven’t sat on one of these tractors since I was a kid on the farm.”

“You’re driving this rig like a pro, Hal.”

“I’m having trouble remembering the four foot pedals.”

“Clutch to the left, two brake pedals to the right and the throttle to the far right, Hal.”

“It’s coming back to me, Alberto. How do you maneuver around these pedals with your high-tech leg?”

“Lots of practice, determination, and rhythm, Hal. My wife says, I love the John Deere more than her. I love Angelita and want to give her everything she deserves in life but money is tight. I’m barely holding this place together and given my disability, a good paying job isn’t likely. If this old tractor gives out, we’re out of business. It’s been failing to start and developed a knocking sound.”

“Take some advice from an old man, Alberto. It’s the little things we show our wives that count the most. When you return home from a long day in the vineyard to find the house spic and span clean with dinner on the table, take her in your arms and say, ‘Thank you!’

“Take out the trash before she asks you to do it. Put the toilet seat down. When you drag your ass out of bed for breakfast and she’s servin’ up your coffee in curlers and a robe, tell her how beautiful she looks in the mornin’. A surprise dinner and a movie always worked for me, even though it was a drive-in double feature, burger and fries. Our most romantic times together were as simple as a walk in the park, hand in hand, finding a shade tree, and taking a walk down Memory Lane by leafing through our high school yearbook and photo albums.”

“You make it sound so easy, Hal.”

“Hold her tight, and the fewer words the better, but the most important advice to remember, ‘Honesty is the best policy,’ Alberto. Never lie to your wife even if it’s something you don’t think she wants to hear. Chances are a woman will forgive a mistake but a single lie will cause her to never trust you again.”

“I’m glad you stopped in to visit, Hal. I needed your wisdom. Angelita is giving me that look, ‘Get your ass back to the tasting room.’ Taking your advice, that’s what we’ll do.”

*

“Well, did you boys have a good time?”

“Hell, yeah, Marge. I drove that tractor better than a kid on my dad’s farm.”

“He’s a natural, Marge. I think I’m gonna hire your husband as a farmhand!”

“Think again, son. My heart’s racin’ from all the excitement. This ol’ man is tuckered out!”

“It’s closing time and it will be dark soon. Instead of driving through the night, why don’t you stay the night in the rig?”

“That’s a very gracious and wonderful idea, Angelita. Why don’t you join Hal and myself for dinner. I’ve got some steaks in the rig and a barbeque just begging to be used.”

“It just so happens I have the makings of a terrific salad.”

“Well, then, let’s get busy cooking dinner for these two men of ours.”

“Hal looks like a beer-drinking man.

“I’ll bring out the ice-cold cervezas.”

“You read my mind, Alberto!”

It’s had been some time since Hal and me enjoyed the company of a young couple. In some ways, it was an opportunity to experience the times I hoped to enjoy with Rebecca and her husband. I wanted to share this reflection and needed Hal’s embrace. I reached for him but he wasn’t there.

“Did anybody see where Hal went?”

“Time slipped away from us during our conversation, but he can’t have wandered far, Marge.”

“I see a light on inside the barn. It was off for the night so Hal must have wandered inside. Why don’t you ladies stay here and I’ll fetch him.”

“I’d prefer to accompany you, Alberto.”

“I’ll come with you, Marge.”

“Thank you, dear.”

We found Hal reclining against the large tractor tire as if taking a nap. He was filthy with grease and oil. His toolkit from our RV laid open beside him.

“Hal, it’s time to wake up. Darling, wake up!”

Alberto held his fingers to Hal’s neck looking for a pulse, I’m sorry, Marge. Hal has passed.”

“I found a note on the seat, Marge.”

Dear Kid,

My ol’ man told me,

“Take care of your equipment, and it will take care of you.”

I cleaned up the points, plugs, and flushed the fuel line.

I performed some “tricks” you don’t find in the owner’s manual I learned on the job fixin’ planes.

This rig will run smooth as silk.

Hal was fortunate because he picked his time to pass doing what he loved and before the dementia took its terrible toll.

I was fortunate to have these two beautiful young people to share my grief.

Angelita and Alberto graciously permitted me to stay on the premises while I made Hal’s final arrangements. When it came time to drive home, Angelita offered to drive with me, but it was a journey I had to take alone to ready myself for the solo journey ahead.

I left with a gift of their first bottle of wine wrapped now with a pink ribbon, which was their keepsake but they wanted me to have it as a memento of our time together. I suspect Angelita chose a pink ribbon to include Rebecca in their farewell to our family.

I miss my husband of sixty years.

He was my “everything.”

I’m grateful Hal and I had the opportunity to relive our youth with Angelita and Alberto. The memories we shared together with the beautiful young couple may have been a gift to us from Rebecca.

A few years ago, I received a lovely card including a photo of Angelita and Alberto’s beautiful baby girl, named Rebecca.

They were beaming with pride the same way Hal and myself held our Rebecca. The card went on to say they entered into a joint venture with a successful winery to bottle their grapes under their label, “The Last Stop Vineyard.” I hope this is only the first stop on a long and beautiful life for Angelita and Roberto. I trust my final stop will be a reunion with my beloved Hal and Rebecca.

Memories, like wine, mellow with time, and I will enjoy every glass until the last bottle is finished.

~