A 25 Year Date in the Making

"in my Volkswagen Bug, for pizza"

L.A. street art from the car

Lovers keep on lovin'
Believers keep on believin', um yeah
Sleepers just stop sleepin'
'Cause it won't be too long, oh, yeah, yeah

- Higher Ground, Stevie Wonder

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Twenty-nine years ago, on December 19th, I gave birth to my third and last child. Ian Adam Hewitt had been a dream, a “twinkle in my eye,” for almost six years prior. We had been blessed with a beautiful son and daughter, very close in age, and although the “deal” was “we were done,” I felt this powerful need for one more.

I knew that God would bring us a unique little person full of life, like my other two, but I had no idea I would get a “Home Alone style kid” who could hold intelligent conversations with most adults by three and who would challenge my very unchallenged parenting skills.

Ian would grow up to attend an art high school a commute away, enjoying the theater conservatory and from there would end up at Columbia University, NYC, where he threw himself into his education, earning a science degree. We remember asking him why he needed to go to a high school so far away, unsure we could handle it for all the obvious reasons, and his response was “I want to go to an Ivy League and this school could get me there.” “Okay, I slowly dragged…. your dad is an electrician and I’m a photographer. Not sure how we will do this and besides, I know you will want to drive there by the time you’re 16 and I don’t think I can handle the stress of knowing you will be on those freeways. I know you will pressure us to drive, blah blah blah.” His dad, John, said, “then you should go. I’ll figure out a way.” I could see the ditches he’d triple-up on digging. I could feel the sense that I needed to step it up, be better at saving. Oh boy. Here we go… far away.

During his time there, he did drive our old 2006 “Big Bertha” Ford Econoline van in Jr/Sr year and he also got a job as Peter Pan at Disneyland. I can’t begin to tell you how busy and full his life and ours was, but this was our “funny little guy” that we adored and everyone who knew him loved watching what he would do. While he was at Columbia I loved finding super cheap deals to visit him for a whirlwind weekend, walking miles catching up, shooting street art and feeling the exhilaration of the city. In his senior year he wrote for the Columbia Spectator. We couldn’t have been prouder of him.

But, there was something that never sat right about the Ivy League education, the promises, the let-downs, and as it was, writing for the university paper left him wanting to write for himself, rather than have his words torn apart before it went to print. We were a fish out of water couple on a very limited budget doing big things. Dreaming like our parents and grandparents did. Although there were positive experiences, a few great professors who looked out for him in a city with no family or friends, Ian came home after graduation needing to recover. We were all exhausted.

Ditching a career in the science field, then law, Ian eventually found his calling working with the drug addicted/mentally ill in San Francisco. He’s also discovered a passion for rock climbing.

The individual is hard to come by these days. There was a reason I asked for so long to have this child. It’s been a journey. Ian is loving, compassionate, kind and cares deeply about humanity. He sees everything in his own unique and thoughtful way.

When Ian was four I believe he overheard me talk about a fun date I had in high school in a VW Bug and how we cruised Sunset. The kids always heard our VW stories, as both John and I drove bugs and we had a VW Bus when they were very young. Volkswagens are part of our family history together. From grandparents to us.

He began to tell me “When I get big I’m gonna take you in my Volkswagen Bug on a date for pizza.” Much to my delight, this would usually make up for having to use my first ever “naughty corner.”

During this time, on a car ride with his sister, there was a lot of fighting going on. Mostly from Ian slapping her, as they insisted sitting next to each other when his sister didn’t have to. It was a three seater bench. I had had enough and pulled the car over across the street from our small electric shop. I told them to get out. As the three of us stood there I said, “I can’t drive like this, so you have to apologize and stop the fighting.” I was serious. Begrudging apologies in tow they climbed back in and off we went.

Suddenly the loudest little voice in the car screamed “NO DATE!!!!!!!!!” I looked in my rearview mirror to see Ian’s mouth scrunched up, red-faced and eyebrows frowning. I said, “no date? what do you mean?” Once again, “NO DATE!!!!!!!!!!,” arms now folded across chest, “no date in my Volkswagen Bug and no pizza.” “Okay, that’s very sad. But okay.” The rest of the ride was quiet.

This past Friday night Ian flew down to attend a belated birthday dinner for John on Sunday, and on Saturday, the birthday gift he gave me last December was finally here. He was taking me to see a jazz singer I liked, and…. we were going to get pizza in L.A. beforehand :) Yassssss! Finally! my pizza date!

On Saturday morning, he and his dad took the dogs for a walk. When they got back he called me to “come outside.” I walked out to see a red VW Beetle/Bug in the driveway! He used the Turo app and picked it up on their short walk!! I was in absolute disbelief! CRAZY! I smiled all day, positive I was smiling in my sleep and into the next day. I think I cured my lip-lines temporarily :)

The date, the bug, the smile that broke my face, the boy, and my $20 jacket :)

It only gets better! On the way there, he plugged in a Spotify playlist with some of my favorite music and told me that I was a great influence in his life with rock ‘n roll. So naturally I sang loud and bad as we drove. Was this a dream?

A four year old’s imagination. A 63 year old mom’s dream come true… 25 years later.

I also took a few street art shots down on Highland where we ate the best pizza.

Sorry not sorry, this was worth a story :)

“Rivers know this… there is no hurry. We shall get there some day.” —A.A. Milne