Xtreme Grandparents: The Oaks Spa

Eat Healthy and Exercise at The Oaks Holistic Spa in Ojai.

by Marilyn Record-Carson

"You're not stopping?" "No." "But it's right off the next ramp." "Not this time."

Rubin and I have a rule: Never pass a Denny's without going inside for a snack. This time he doesn't budge. "Be spontaneous," he tells me. I tell him "you can't tell someone to be spontaneous, and have them be spontaneous." Does he budge? Not a bit. So much for being spontaneous.

After an hour and a half drive from LA, we arrive in Ojai, a quaint town near Santa Barbara catering to holistic types. The car stops in front of The Oaks, one of the first full-service spas in Southern California. My constant whining about needing to be thinner for my son's up-coming wedding, and only a health spa would do, seemed to inspire Rubin. "The last time I went to a spa, they buried me in a pit of hot cedar sawdust," Rubin was informing the desk clerk. "I had a panic attack and screamed for my mother." "Don't worry sir," she answered. "All our guests leave here floating on a cloud." "That doesn't make me feel any better," muttered Rubin.

The Oaks is a 46-room brown stucco California hotel circa early 1930's. Rubin says the public rooms "look institutional". I tell Rubin "they are cozy and funky". Our room is bare bones. I would normally complain, but here it would do no good. All the rooms are alike. They have a good bed, dresser, nightstand, TV and a stall shower. Rubin looks around and tells me to be spontaneous.

The fee is $245 per person per night and includes all three meals, hikes, exercise classes, yoga, pool classes and whatever enrichment program running that weekend. Massages and facials are extra, but at $70 each you won't be zapping your budget.

I take the one-hour "Modern Dance" class, not having done anything this aerobic since my prom, which seems like a hundred years ago. It was fun. I couldn't keep up with the rest of the young class members, but I didn't feel as humiliated as I thought I would. By the end of the class, I felt like I would collapse with one more dance step. Over the loudspeaker I heard, "Cooking Class is just beginning, our delicious Orange Muffins are featured today". Thankfully, I could sit for this class.

Eleanor, who has been with the spa forever, and is turning 80 soon, is the cooking teacher. She demonstrates, fields questions, and passes out the finished muffins. If I were a good sport, which I am not, I would be delighted with these small hunks of fiber, knowing that I would be losing weight as I ate. But I am never a good sport. The Orange muffins tasted like matzoh: unbearably tasteless.

I pulled Rubin away from Court TV for his only activity, dinner. We sat at a table for four and struck up a conversation with two overweight women who were there for a week. They extolled the blissful Oaks cuisine. The entree was Tostada Supreme- a thin, high-fiber tortilla buried by gobs of salsa and shredded lettuce, with a smattering of chicken. Rubin looked stricken. All he said was: "I feel like the house eunuch. I'm the only man here."

We adjourned to our room hungry. Rubin looked out to the back parking area and remarked that there were no high, electrified barbed wire fences patrolled by even hungrier Dobermans. We snuck out and discovered a nearby Mexican restaurant. We entered, and noticed two people waving at us from a dark corner table. It was our table companions from lunch, so we joined them. The combination plate was delicious and we ate like there was no tomorrow.

At 7am the next morning, about twenty of us went for a two-mile hike through Ojai's parks and glens. Shiela Cluff is the Oak's owner and guru, and developer of the term "wellness." Rubin said she reminded him of an army troop ship racing away from enemy submarines. If you fall overboard, you're dead meat. Needless to say, we couldn't keep up with this dynamo.

The second day was a blur. Water aerobics in the large pool, Mind-Body Awareness classes, stretch exercise classes, and another cooking lesson by 80-year-old Eleanor Brown. Her menu for today was high-fiber menus and skinless everything else. That night we followed our ritual and met our table partners for Tex-Mex. We hugged, shed tears, and vowed to meet same time next year.

My "Oaks" experience resulted in a half-pound loss. Was it the high fiber or just being spontaneous?