Travel stories and the occasional rantings of an evolving cynic who's simply in search of a little human authenticity. Tales include hitching across the Rockies with an eventual cop-killer, a weekend with a terminally-ill billionaire, meeting my siblings for the first time, trips to Mexico, and scores of random people from Mass.-Slab City-Chiapas who are often even more interesting...for better or worse!
"The world does not reward honesty and independence, it rewards obedience and service. It’s a world of concentrated power, and those who have power are not going to reward people who question that power."-Chomsky
"The trouble with self-delusion, either in a person or a society, is that reality doesn't care what anybody believes, or what story they put out. Reality doesn't "spin." Reality does not have a self-image problem. Reality does not yield its workings to self-esteem management." -J.H. Kunstler
"You don't need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows."-Dylan
Mike elected to stay in Boise until Saturday, and I was glad to hear it. They needed another day out of the car and that would provide a chance to get to know Ben & Brad a bit better. Besides, I was selfishly enjoying this new (to me) dynamic!
Ben and I took a fun trip to pick up clothes for his senior pictures, and it seemed that the time the three of us had spent together over the week had paid dividends. The timing was unintentional...and perfect: I’d landed the week they’d be home and before they’d begun school. Ben and Brad are fantastic young men. I’m proud to know them and thankful for the little bit of time we’ve been able to spend getting to know each other. Of course, with that thought comes the temptation to rage on time lost; that’s something I’ll probably never completely come to terms with. That’s for another time, perhaps, but today I’m struck by the course of events since June 2008.
Once Dave was home, his sister Robyn came over for a huge chicken/steak & potato dinner...and of course Rum Runners! We all drank a bit too much, Lynette got reacquainted with Mike & Bobbie, and Ben and I threw the ball around and played basketball in their neighbor’s driveway. It was a perfect crescendo to the week, but as the day ended I still had yet to decide whether to leave with Mike in the morning or remain in the Northwest.
Mike, Bobbie, and Ally returned from a quick but perfectly enjoyable visit to Bend and their plan is to return east as soon as tomorrow, depending on what I decide to do. I honestly don’t know what that will be. I’m inclined to stay and head toward Portland again; of course, there’s always something unresolved. I also could have them drop me in Cheyenne to hitch or catch a bus home, or suggest a return through Colorado where they could drop me in Denver.
Nebraska, anyone?
The "where" no longer matters. The question is "whether" to continue on at all, and I’m on the edge of capitulation. I have something to lose, and that sense of possible loss is both new and troubling.
As Dave put it yesterday, this is a period of huge transition. It’s one highlighted and accented by a quiet, poignant, frustrating regression. A useful one. I’ve gone creatively and spiritually dormant over the past six-months; since Ray. The negativity is wearing me down, making me tentative; I’m questioning both myself and my ideas; my character and the stability of the intellectual and spiritual ideas that now seem to have vanished. Nothing is new here. I’m either going to fight through it or cave in and return to “life.”
That’s a bit disingenuous; there’s no “returning” to that old life, thank God. The life I'd rejoin now was created by this "quest". Only by stepping out have I found the means and the courage by which to confront demons. Only by stepping out have I taken control of meeting Michelle, Mike, Lynette, and their families. Only by silencing family and childhood narratives; forcing a relationship with reality--for better or worse--have I found a semblance of relative peace. At times it seems there’s nothing left to confront, and I actually miss that!
The novel-euphoria of “new family” has worn off, as I’m sure it has with them and their new "brother". I’ve begun to incorporate Michelle, Mike, and Lynette into life on a practical level. My life feels to be unmistakably on the edge of a radically new phase. Not just my 40’s, but something much more significant. I don’t know what that is, but I know it’s coming.
As I look back over the last 2 1/2 years, the course of events and changes are staggering, and much of that’s been due to brazen confidence and/or arrogance; something I’ve lost and want BACK! I’ve not missed this kind of anxiety one damn bit, but to be fair, its absence has likely left me a little complacent.
Dave worked a full day, but once he was home we embarked upon a remarkable chat concerning the results of one losing their religion or spiritual compass. Considering his background of renouncing Mormonism after climbing its ranks, Dave has a rare, fascinating, and original perspective and personal experience with it. I explored how my loss of "trust-in-the-compass" coincided with the negativity I seem to attract lately; at least since the Chris rants of February, if not all the way back to Andre. The conversation eventually turned to forgiveness (or lack of); giving people, myself included if not first, permission to be, as Ray put it, flawed.
Beyond that, I believe I have lost partial sight of my original goal: truth. I’m afraid some of my political rantings have encouraged the adaptation of the base habit of preferring to “appear” right” than being right.
I’m in an odd place. I still crave answers yet am still caught entertaining both petty regret and a want to go home; give up this quest and build some sort of life. My priorities have abruptly altered and suddenly there are more important things than an intellectualized ego quest.
Yet, as 40 prepares to strike in a few weeks, I’m not yet willing to embrace a domesticated pasture. Looking around my current setting I see the organic fruit of this "quest": Lynette, Dave, Ben, Brad, even their cat! Without this “quest” for the indescribable, this current scene, along with its characters, remains unknown and unresolved. This part of life remains banished to the same oblivion-of-waste as the previous four decades.
As I suggested in May, I need to find that positive spot; that place where I am putting something positive back into the world. I’d love to spend a month here pickin' brains!
Our "coincidental" timing was remarkable. We arrived at Lynette's at about 11pm, literally a few short minutes before their cab, and after 36-hours in the car, proceeded to fight car lag while exchanging enthusiastic greetings and reacquainting ourselves.
It hadn't really struck me until watching them how little time Mike & Lynette had spent together in their lives. After just an hour, and against Lynette and Dave's vehement protests, Mike chose to continue on toward their destination in Bend, which was still several hours west. I'd decided to remain behind and begin the process of looking backward and forward at the same time. I had been sensing powerful mental tectonics threatening to snap since Alex Bay, my instincts were now screaming to just sit and process for a bit, and after 2009 and spending New Year's here, Lynette & Dave's place felt like a bit of a sanctuary!
Once Mike resumed his journey west, Lynette, Dave, and I were in bed almost immediately. They had been traveling all day and had to work the next morning. As for me? I just needed... rest!
The next couple of days were incredibly tranquil. Ben and Brad returned from their dad's, which made for a nice surprise when they realized I was back. With Dave & Lynette working, the three of us spent time just hanging out, watching a movie or throwing a ball around. It was quite nice, and an excellent start to an eventful stay.
With the sun falling, and having no luck in my shitty spot, I was contemplating nesting possibilities when a 4-door Toyota with Vermont plates recklessly pulled over on the narrow shoulder, and waved me on. When I said I was going toward Erie, he shockingly replied, “no problem”, told me to hurry up, and suddenly I knew I would make it on time to catch my brother and, barring any complications, his ride toward Idaho and Oregon.
Aim for Maine. Land in Oregon. I am the traveling sharpshooter.
Doug was tall, about my age, had long curly hair, familiar cheap monotone clothes, and judging by the large boxes of open food cans, laid out buffet-style, was traveling somewhere distant and gave an initial hippie impression. That generalization was woefully mistaken. Yet, he would prove to be a powerful reminder of our ingrained, unavoidable duality.
Doug had the rare combination of being supremely arrogant and at the same time pathetically awkward. Assessments aside, it quickly became obvious that Doug was brilliant and suffered from the stereotypical social deficiency that often comes along with it. He reminded me of someone genetically spliced from the DNA of a Slabber and Sheldon.
Doug was driving from Vermont across New York and on his way thru Ohio, Michigan, Wisconsin, and ultimately Montana investigating various places along the way that he described as “unspoiled” parks and nature preserves. I loved the coincidence, of course, especially uopn learning that one of the places he targeted was, literally, five-miles from my sister’s house in Ohio: my destination!
Nature, botany, and geology are Doug’s primary passions. He had methodically targeted unspoiled spots in nearly every part of the country, and meticulously planned, to the point of obsession, every detail to immerse himself in them. He raved about, and offered an impressive home-schooled seminar on, the geologic history of New York’s Adirondack Mountains, while mocking that I had been at their doorstep and not bothered to investigate "God’s Country." I made a mental note. While I am sometimes inclined to engage in obnoxious hyperbole Doug did not seem prone to exaggeration!
A Happy Reflection
In an earlier life, Doug had been quite successful in New England real estate and made a great deal of money in another business venture. And had been miserable. We often finished each other’s sentences while exchanging personal anecdotes about learning how an external pursuit of “stuff” left us hollow inside. He ultimately sold everything, took an extended through Europe, and now lives much as The Friar and I do: he works when he needs to, but not to buy clothes, cars, or LED TV’s. He works to travel, often doing menial labor, and, as he told it, with much greater satisfaction. For him, work is not a practice in perpetual servitude or careerism: the jobs end once they’ve served their purpose and he recommences living life again.
We spent a great deal of time sharing stories and exchanging social philosophies while bemoaning the willingness of most folks to subjugate their lives to the implanted idea of “career”; to become an unquestioning cog in a decaying machine. I haven’t written much about that in a long time. But it’s still there and it was quite clear that Doug and I had a great deal in common, at least in this area. We’d made similar decisions after drawing similar conclusions. As we weaved thru western New York, I also heard the familiar, “I never pick up hitchers, but something told me to stop” which triggered a twinge of warm, faint nostalgia.
An Uncomfortable Reflection
Doug’s other, and more significant trait, at least in this narrative, was his blunt and overwhelming disgust for people that seemed to stem from arrogance and contempt as well as a poorly concealed, deep seated sense of rejection. When we stopped for gas he seemed to actually go out of his way to be rude to nearly everyone he interacted with. It was embarrassing. I found myself shrugging as if to say, "I don't know what the fuck's wrong with him either!" His comments made it clear that he was either showing off or that he considered these people his inferior minions and wouldn’t suffer the effort of disseminating an unnecessary common courtesy! This extended beyond words; he was a prick driver as well!
He provided some insight into this as we approached Erie. Doug told of how he was ostracized and made a spectacle of as a child because, as he told it, he was “so much smarter” than everyone. He smugly told how, even as a youth, he could think several steps ahead of everyone else, even teachers, and use his intellect as a stealth weapon. In his eye, the battlefield is the mind. And he's Napoleon. From the passenger’s seat, there was a veiled, enraged, hurt child striving to show off and impress me with mental muscle. The closer to Erie we came, the more pathetic he seemed. I was also disturbed a bit. These insights were entirely too clear, and frighteningly familiar. Using intellect, ideas, and venomous words as weapons to reap vengeance? Hmmm....
Shortly before leaving New York, I offered Doug gas money to ease his airtight budget if he’d let me ride along to Sandusky or Toledo. My new plan (ha!) was to meet Michelle, who had offered to pick me up as far away as Erie or Cleveland, then coordinate with my brother from her place near Toledo. The closer I was to Toledo the better, Doug agreed, but said he was stopping for the night just past Erie, on I-90 at the Ohio Welcome Center, and I'd need to find a place to sleep.
Ohio
No problem! I found a secluded spot for my bivy snuggled beneath some evergreens and we were back on I-90 toward Cleveland by 6:30 Wednesday morning. I was looking forward to both ending this little Massena-Ohio sprint, and a leisurely day touring northern Ohio’s natural wonders with Doug. Natural wonders in Ohio? Really? Little more than the Cuyahoga River's chemical blaze came to mind!
Yes, it really happened!
The first stop was impressive, and something I would never expected to find in any city, let alone Cleveland. Rocky River Metropark is a beautiful, nearly undisturbed preserve IN Cleveland. Yes, CLEVELAND! Doug seemed impressed with Cuyahoga County, and gave Cleveland his thumbs up. I had to grudgingly agree, besides...it’s not like I was complimenting Columbus! Ick...
Rocky River Metropark, Cleveland
Cleveland
Through the morning and afternoon, I found myself hiking a wetland preserve near Sandusky, reading while Doug explored another preserve in the middle of nowhere, then exploring Marblehead Lighthouse and its adjacent state park. At each stop, he’d euphorically bound down the trails for extended, giddy hikes and return with tales of his intrepid Adventures in Botany! He had a love for and a bond with nature that I admired a great deal. This was his element, and he was quite likeable while he was in it...and as long as there were no people interfering!
Cedar Point
Lake Erie Near Sandusky, OH
Near Port Clinton, OH
A Troubling Reflection
Throughout the day, we had inevitably talked politics and sociology. Doug’s worldview was an interesting ideological hybrid. Being from Vermont, he had traditional libertarian tendencies, but he also was quite progressive when it came to issues like energy and the environment. Economically he was Milton Friedman’s persistent wet dream. “To the right of Attila the Hun”, to steal a line. Socially, like many of us willfully loitering out on the fringes, he believed society to be on a downslide and saw sustainability, both individually and on-scale, as essential to survival.
However, what will stick with me forever was Doug's chilling, unwavering, and disturbingly reptilian lack of compassion. When it came to unemployment, social security, food stamps, health care, or anything to do with assisting the poor, he was convinced that caring for these “freeloaders” equated to growing an inoperable economic tumor that would consume us all. Doug’s platform: “Austerity Now! Austerity Tomorrow! Austerity Forever! Fuck Them!”
I tried to appeal to Doug’s sense of humanity and found none. He was ready to go to war to protect the endangered Flatulent Pink Flamingo, but when it came to his own species? Social Darwinism. No mercy. Natural Law. Economically, everyone was to be left to and at the mercy of “The Market.” Ultimately, I asked him if he thought we should just throw the poor, sick, and starving into the streets as they did in medieval London. “Absolutely!” Can’t keep up? Out of the gene pool!
Doug’s lack of basic compassion was reminiscent of my earlier conversations with various economic and social “anarchists” I’ve met over the last few of years, particularly in the Dakotas and Slab City. Admittedly, they also mirrored some views I entertained and tinkered with since ’08. Through conversations with some of my Teabagging friends, as well as reading some of their in-depth ideas, and watching the BP Gulf of Mexico oil spill this summer, I’ve concluded that this brand of socioeconomics is, at best, inhumane and beneath civilized culture. At worst: an deluded rationalization for greed & cruelty; financial cannibalization and exploitation of the most vulnerable.
To make matters worse, I saw it coming. The backlash I predicted in December of '08 now has a name: Teabaggery. While he admirable despised the Alaskan Road Whore, Doug’s clever arguments and verbal gymnastics seemed to echo all the other austerity-driven propaganda and did little more than provide Teabaggery with clever nuance.
“Not My Problem” should be the emblazoned upon every Teabagger’s calling card; avoiding taxation in the name of “The Market” is all that matters. The Market is literally God. Is there nothing held higher? I asked, is there’s no higher ideal in this world than the ability to accumulate and hoard wealth, even at the expense of others? At that, he gave me his patented arrogant, amused look saying he hoped I understand that at this point in my life. Proudly, I firmly reject it.
Drawing on recent experiences, and particularly conversations with Brian over the summer about things like projection and cognitive dissonance, my bullshit detector was blaring, especially considering his story the night before. It seemed clear that Doug’s prime concern was less about social philosophy and politics and more about avenging himself as “the victim ostracized from the pack” only because he was “gifted.” There was entirely too much anger tainted with superiority and disdain to be just simple ideology.
Rant Alert
Beyond him specifically, Doug provided yet another glimpse into the mindset of an alarming number of people. As I’ve said, I’ve seen them all over and have mentioned them periodically over the last two years. I’m no Rasmussen, but the anger is manifesting itself into something ugly. You need only to be aware of their pervasive dogma while listening to The Asshat King Glenn Beck, Rush, The Alaskan Road Whore, or any of the whackjob Teabaggery candidates like Sharon Angle or Christine O’Donnell. The fact the latter are legitimate candidates speaks volumes.
Doug’s clearly no anomaly; there are millions of Americans who are more than happy to throw whomever they define as a “freeloader” into the streets to starve in exchange for lower taxes. Never mind that the lower tax rates their avatars constantly bleat about won't apply to THEM!
Despite often clinging to their Bibles, they are perfectly comfortable in their “freeloader” judgment, along with any number of other designations with which they choose to label the “undesirables.” Meanwhile, rest assured they're not to be bothered being their brother's keeper, let alone anyone else!
They typically perpetrate all of this while clutching their crosses and wrapping themselves in the flag while arrogantly assuming the title of "patriot" and ridiculously belching out recycled, PBR-stenched phrases which include words like “tyranny” and “liberty”; all terms they couldn’t use in a sentence before they received their Teabag marching orders shortly following the election of The Socialist Antichrist.
Somehow, they equate freedom with gluttony and greed. Somehow they’re convinced that they know ANYTHING, about “tyranny!” Bloated, gun-crazed, redneck Americans moaning about “tyranny” is like Christians crying “oppression!” Fuck off. Listening to these arguments has convinced me that Teabaggery is the repositioned philosophy and legacy of Timothy McVeigh. He too championed Second Amendment remedies.
End Rant
From this point forward, Doug was a resource. I kept the rest of our conversation away from political and social issues figuring that was the best way to keep the peace. I lied right there. It was a way to keep me in the car!
Late in the afternoon, I guided Michelle to a McDonald's in Port Clinton ending this little cannonball trip west. It had taken me 72-hours to get from Massena to Michelle.
As we sat waiting in the parking lot, I realized I had never given Doug the gas money I promised him. I concluded that the Karma Market and Natural Law conspired against him and chose not to provide. More to the point and to quote Deacon from Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure: “He was a dick.”
Doug
As we parted ways, we made the obligatory promises to stay in touch, but that was clearly not happening.
Ohio to Idaho
There’s not much to tell about the next few days. I made an REI run and began processing the past couple of weeks before meeting up with Mike and helping him drive their version of the Oregon Trail.
The cross-country was uneventful, except for another rendezvous with the Iowa 80, and taking joy watching Mike and Ally’s amazement thru the Rockies. Mike had never been beyond Iowa. I could literally see their faces light up with seeing places for the first time; places I now take for granted. It reminded me of my first trip west and how I was hypnotized. Its a different world out here; one where pictures and words just don’t suffice. They took a special liking to Wyoming and Utah, and I must confess: despite everything I have said about Utah, if I were leading my cult west I’d likely settle near the Wasatch, too! It’s disgustingly beautiful!
Wyoming
Near Laramie, WY
Utah
It was good getting to know Mike a bit more as we rode west along I-80 and, although Lynette and Dave were in the Antilles scuba diving, I was looking forward to stopping in Boise on the way back from Oregon for a reunion of sorts. My intention was to surprise them, and just have Mike and I show up. Unfortunately, I was unsure of their itinerary so shortly after we crossed from into Idaho I called to let her know we were around and that I hoped to see her at some point while we were in the Northwest.
To my shock, she almost immediately returned my call saying that she and Dave were in Salt Lake waiting for their connector to Boise! It seemed that we’d all be simultaneously converging on Boise in a couple of hours...
With most of the rest of the world, 2010 began quietly for us in Boise. Benefiting from her nearly 12-hours of sleep, Lynette was up and off to the Dilliards sale by 7am while the rest us were still snug in our beds...with Rum Runners and Champagne preparing to beat on our heads. I say "our" clearly knowing that I was likely the sole sufferer not named Mike or Lynette. I need the illusion-of-companionship at times. That being said, Laina too was unable to function due to a massive hangover. I can't even fathom how she drinks like she does. Perhaps a meeting is in order?
I feel better.
In place of venturing out, Lynette napped then decided to take down Christmas decorations; another one of those moments where I feel like a lost child at the mall or Neverland Ranch. (Too soon?) Since I was 11 or 12, I've had a tree exactly once; at the request of my ex-girlfriend, I believe in 1998! I seem to remember she was introduced to the fact that I was Cheer Challenged; saying something about "damaged goods." This from the woman who literally hid inside our apartment on Y2K. True story. I'd pay serious money to peek in her windows on 12.21.12! This decade began much better than the millennium, but I digress...
To be fair, it goes far beyond decorations and cards. As with my birthday, I don't "do" gifts. It's one of the things Laina, and everyone I've dated just LOVES... especially on V.D. (Valentine's Day). Like nearly everything, it's the principle of the thing. I won't jump-on-cue to show I care, especially when the "cue" is coming from retailers complete with reminders that it's "my duty" to "support the economy." Umm..."fuck you." I won't have my affections evaluated by a grand total of receipts, and I'm quite sure that EVERY kiss beginning with Kay ends with emotional Herpes. Remember that next month.
Beyond bribery and a taught sense of entitlement, there's an element of hypocrisy to the "holiday season." Poor people need help in March, too. Hungry families need to eat more often than just Thanksgiving and Christmas. People still appreciate politeness and kindness in September. Except on my birthday. Your estranged mother may still want to hear from you in October. It's a Wonderful Life still plays on Memorial day, right George? Wait... do angels hibernate? It's the questions that drive us...
Sparing you a full-on rant (one I intended to write last month. Am I not merciful?), allow me to offer that self-interest driven, marketing-induced charity is NOT charity. It's a business agreement with December's deity du jour.
Your deity knows better.
You may be better off acting like the selfish prick you really are than pretending to be righteous. At least then... you're an honest prick! Suffice it to say I don't agree with the Francis Xavier Cross Philosophy...
With all this considered, there was yet another of these "strange," out-of-character moments as I watched Lynette & Laina pack ornaments. The notion of a "family tradition" set in as I gazed at Ben & Brads early childhood ornaments. Stability. Something to count on and look forward to every year. Something I literally have NO concept of. It was as though I finally learned something taught in 2nd grade; something that illuminated another barren wing of my psyche. All this from the most mundane of things. That theme holds, even in my metaphorical cave...
This is when I realized just how well Laina was taking to everyone. This was a familiar element to her, granted, but it went beyond that. I was oblivious to the fact that she was observing me, too. Being self-absorbed, the obvious had never occurred to me: this was the first time she had ever seen me in a family setting of my own. She'd met my mother and sister of course, but at best only on my shotgun 2-hour "in & outs." I discovered later that watching me interact with my sisters, Dave, and my nieces and nephews gave her a fresh, positive perspective. For a guy who prides himself on his observant nature, I screwed the pooch* on this one.
* No pooches were screwed making this blog...
Saturday came much too soon. We had another day-long drive and Laina worked Monday. Ben & Brad had gone to their dad's on Friday, so the seven of us left were off on Todd's Great Journal-Insert Hunt and a late lunch before Laina and I hit the road around 5pm. It was hard to leave. Casa Fogg holds many memories in 4-months and, as I wrote in September, this was another of those experiences that help people pass from simple siblings to being brothers, sisters, nieces, nephews, uncles...and Dave.
I kid the lawyer. It's reflex; I'm programmed to detest lawyers & politicians. Dave's an anomaly.
**FUN FACT: The first shirt I wore when I met Lynette & Dave in August read: "The first thing we do, let's kill all the lawyers!" Lynette's response, "I can't believe you're actually going to wear that shirt in this house." After an emphatic, "Oh, FUCK!" I turned about 40-shades of red and borrowed the "Michigan" shirt you see in the pics...
During lunch, it dawned on me that Lynette, Shelly, and I had spent next to NO time talking about Ward & The Hens. I pointed out, more to myself than aloud, that I saw this as significant. It showed that there was more focus on the future, rather than just bitching about the past. I was relieved that the three of us could relate beyond simple idle gossip and dime-store Drama.
Mike
Amanda & Lynette
Part of that future continued to be speculation about "Rallying 'Round the 'Black Sheep'" in Boise. Shelly seems to have gone from considering a relocation, to determined to get it done. Laina and I had talked about it a bit more over the couple of days there, but it always came back to the same thing: "When am I going to be done with this?" Any talk of relocating from Santa Fe begins and ends with that question; one of those which has no answer... much like, "How can an attorney sleep at night?"
I kid the lawyer.
Laina finally distracted me enough with coffee & fudge to get us moving, and after hugs, handshakes, and a quick REI exchange-stop, we were on our way back. The weather cooperated nicely to Salt Lake City. Rather than returning the way we came, at the last moment Laina inexplicably decided to take I-80 thru Wyoming and Denver! Why? I have no idea. It was as though a confused, misguided navigator had influenced her to take that exit. I'll spare further analysis and move on, but whatever the reason, after we had gotten thru the staggeringly gorgeous Wasatch mountains east of the city, a familiar theme resumed. Snow. Again. It would appear that the ghost of Joseph Smith was holding a grudge and that he was really bored... because it would only snow when I drove!
A nice part of Wyoming was stopping in Rawlins, revisiting the truckstop where Doug had dropped me off and I'd met Cesar in 2008. Next was the Laramie-Cheyenne snowstorm...which stopped as soon as Laina started driving! Despite having 75mph speed limits and one-way traffic the whole way, because of the snow it still took us 24-hours to get home. We were both exhausted, and Laina was getting sick. She did call in to work after all!
The 950-mile drive from Santa Fe to Boise was a mix of mostly state and US highways that took us overnight through Pagosa Springs, Durango, and Cortez in SW Colorado then into SE Utah near Canyonlands and Moab early Wednesday morning. By midday, we were snaking thru the Wasatch Mountains, Salt Lake City, then finally into Idaho by late afternoon.
I knew how beautiful southern Utah's terrain was, having driven it in '05, but had never seen the Wasatch between I-70 and Salt Lake on US-6. I hate to admit it, especially after regularly mocking Utah, but there's something alluring about the Land of Mormon. Salt Lake City's skyline is more powerfully dominated by mountains than any other I've seen; much more imposing due to proximity than even Denver's.
Inspired by the HBO series Big Love (and boredom), I spent a good deal of time playing ad executive; thinking of slogans I could sell to Utah and Mormon fundamentalists like Roman Grant. Picturing the billboards, magazines, and radio ads, I laughed so hard I nearly lost continence. Shalain? Not so much. Meanwhile, Joseph Smith's ghost likely sensed my attitude toward his state's fledgling theocracy and, wearing no magic undies to protect me, I believe he clearly conspired with Brigham Young to prevent weatherly cooperation. We had snow nearly the whole way from Northern New Mexico to Salt Lake City. What should have been 19-hours total was already 21 when we only reached Idaho- still a solid 3-hours from Boise.
I soon found myself once again on I-84 at the infamous Albion exit...for the third time in less than 18-months. The stretch of road between Pocatello and Boise is approaching I-40 in familiarity, second only to the now-tiresome I-25! I pointed out to a politely-interested (or keenly disinterested?) Laina some of my little landmarks from 2008 before we pulled into Boise around 8pm or so Wednesday night, exhausted but glad we had not waited until Wednesday morning to leave, as was our original plan. We were in town early enough to get (re)acquainted AND get a good night's sleep for New Year's Eve. Despite the weather and my initial misgivings as to its wisdom, in retrospect the beginning of this winter adventure really did work out perfectly.
Coming into Lynette & Dave's subdivision naturally invoked a flurry of Warm Fuzzies from September, and it again occurred to me that this was going to be the first time either Shelly, Lynette, Dave, or anyone here had seen me out of travel mode. The last time I had seen Lynette & her family, Chris and I were strapping on our packs and heading down a barren US-20 toward Caldwell. Laina's predicament wasn't lost on me; she had heard much about my drama's characters, but had yet to actually meetany of them. Now, she was about to be baptized by fire: meeting nearly all of my new family at once! I knew they were curious about her too: "How does she put up with you doing this?" was something I was asked 100 times over the summer!
Lynette came out to meet us walking up to the door, and it was as though I had never left. I gave her a big hug, quickly introduced Laina, then strode to the door to give Shelly a hug. Again: like I'd never left. I had to remind myself that it had been six-months since I had seen Shelly, and nearly four since Lynette. SIX MONTHS? Unreal. Ben & Brad were also there as were Dave's kids, Amanda, Mike, and Steph. The same cast as September. I kept telling Amanda & Mike I won't know what to do if I ever visit while they're at home in California. I'd miss 'em.
As I mentioned, I was exhausted from the drive and lack of sleep in the days prior to leaving Santa Fe. I blame my new supplements but whatever the reason, this fatigue led to one of the goofiest and nearly most awkward moments...ever. As I was introducing Laina to everyone, I was working very hard to keep names straight. I know everyone quite well, so normally: not a problem at all. Tonight? A slight problem! For a split-second, I lapsed Dave's name! I'm NOT proud of this, nor do I find it particularly flattering. I mention it only to submit to my sentence inside The Cone of Shame. In my defense, I was so tired that basic recall had begun to fail, and I KNEW it before hand. My radio background spared me the total in-the-moment humiliation in that I know to THINK AHEAD while speaking to be certain of what spews from my mouth. What was seen to unknowing eyes probably resembled Todd being a smartass...but I had to ask myself 3x if I got it right: "DAVE, right?? NOT DOUG? NOT DREW?Fuck! I'm losing my mind!" My shame is everlasting. Once again: Sorry, Dale.
A good night's sleep worked wonders for New Year's Eve. Lynette & Shelly took Laina shopping while Drew(?) & I hung around the house. He had gotten a telescope for Christmas and was learning how it worked, and after he showed me some of their home improvements, he brilliantly articulated something I had been struggling with for a month. It was something to the effect of: the more you're around family that you get along with and care about, and begin to have positive drama-free experiences, the more you want it. It took awhile for that to settle in and I'm not sure if he was speaking from my perspective, his, or Lynette's but it didn't matter; he hit on a significant portion of my drive to get here.
Going back to August/ September there are two things about Dave, among others: he's insightful, and has a way of getting to the point and simplifying things with a minimum of words. The first I respect. The second I admire because it's something I struggle with. I've become quite fond of "that husband of hers," and will be quite certain to challenge Ward & The Hens on their chosen scapegoat. Oh! my silliness! Ward & The Hens! Sounds like a Dukes of Hazzard spinoff. Or, Hugh Beaumont porn. Consider it trademarked; my intellectual property.
From there, Dave cracked open a new can suggesting that when I'm "done with this," Laina and I move to Boise. Shelly intends to move back there from Ohio sometime over the next year, so considering how little I like/much I hate Santa Fe, it's worth considering. In fact, back in October Laina and I discussed moving to Portland in order to be closer to everyone. I cannot stress enough how foreign it feels having, "move CLOSER to family" rattling in my skull!
The positive energy between Laina, Shelly, and Lynette was immediately obvious, and continued the "at-ease" I had felt in September; it was obviously not a fluke. All was well. All that was left to do Thursday... was ring in 2010! Food was prepared, and more importantly Dave was mass-producing his famous Rum Runners.
**Quick story about the Rum Runners that I've yet to tell: These concoctions are so good, that while at another friend Dave's, the harbormaster in Portland, I was taking pictures of a yacht entitled the 'Rum Runner' in order to pay homage to Sir Fogg's Wagon-Killer Brew. I was literally taking this picture when Andre and Cody sailed the MasterCraft in, and the Portland Adventure began. They're just that good!**
Stephanie and her boyfriend, Stewart, joined us as did Lynette & Dave's neighbors, Mike, Wendy, and Bailey. The drinks flowed and the food fed as we played a game of Apples to Apples before taking the party across the street for a game of Rock Band on X-Box. Having been deeply scarred by drunken karaoke a decade ago, I abstained. But, my sisters and girlfriend are apparently repressed rock stars. Never shy, Lynette took to the role of what can only be described as a cross between Belinda Carlisle and Sidd Vicious: singing the Go-Go's Our Lips Are Sealed while yelling at her band to, "get it together." Video exists. It's taken great restraint to keep it contained, and is now secured within a bank vault in Manhattan. Laina has applied great pressure to release it to the world, but despite that--I stand firm. Honor me.
This reminds me: I also repelled great temptation induced by Stewie, Steph's boyfriend. He spent the evening trying to coerce me to smoke and break my noble & righteous vow, but verily! I steadfastly refused. Despite slanderous claims that it was I asking for a cigarette, I am proud to say that due to my steel resolve in rebuffing The Stew, I have proudly hit the 8-week mark smoke-free. Also, a new hand-to-hand challenge from Young Ben was accepted, and while details are hazy at best, I'm happy to say that the young apprentice was once again easily vanquished by Ye Strong Arm of Errantry, again despite despicable, vile rumors to the contrary. Honor me! (When exactly did I become Lancelot?)
Stewart & Steph
While Sidd and her Go-Go's were reminding us all of garbage bag attire, Dave was taking odds on whether she'd see midnight. He wasn't convinced. At 9:30, she was a rock 'n roll tour-de-force; there was nothing stopping her and it became clear to me that Lynette and I could be trouble if the sun & stars happened to align beneath the banner of Bacardi or Blue Moon. By 11:00 she was in the fetal position- at home, asleep. I shook my head out of an odd sense of genetic familiarity, laughed, gave her a peck on the cheek, and wobbled back over to the Snyder's to welcome in 2010.
Shelly & I
As the new decade commenced, poor Mr. Snyder, or someone, mentioned politics...while I was drinking. Yeeaaaah. That should trigger Civil Defense Warnings. Eh, Chris? I'm surprised Laina didn't just bust a champagne bottle over my head as a public service, but some of her anecdotes involve Brad and Bailey (Mike's daughter) counting how many times I used the f-word. It appears that Mike, Wendy, and I were probably in agreement on most everything, but that's never stopped me from drunk-arguing before! Right, Chris? Dave hit it on the head the next morning, gleefully telling me that he "saw a side of me he'd never seen" in this drunken, nonsensical, circular political "conversation!" Guilty. But, I think it was a backhanded compliment; he seemed to imply that I usually make sense! I've intentionally tried to avoid the political/ social discussions around these folks in an effort to benefit them from the mistakes of/with others! Right, Chris? But dammit... sometimes that ranting little fucker breaks free. How do you discipline an unruly, chemically dependent pundit-child? I honestly have no idea how long Mike, Wendy, and I stumbled around inside the politics/religion (that too *cringe*) maze. I do recall having a terrific time, and considering Mike accepted my Facebook friend-request, I guess I didn't piss him off too much. That's a blessing... and always a good sign. Not all my acquaintances, or even friends, survive these! Right, Jason?
Over the last couple weeks of '09, and as midnight approached, I often thought back to last January-when Chris and I were pondering what we thought the year would look like. From NYE '09 in Denver to NYE '10 in Boise, 2009 was exactly what it should have been. And more. I don't know what I would have changed, other than the distancing of Pam and not meeting Skip. I do regret the faded relationship with Pam in the grand scope because we are closely connected whether we like it or not. Nothing can change that. And, Mike's enough of a brother!
2009 in a nutshell:
- The Veggie Bus
- Kim and the Cops in Tennessee
- Trent and Megan in Chesapeake Beach, MD
- Chris and I making our way by foot and thumb from DC to Lewes, DE
- The Beach in New Jersey
- The Corbin Cafe
- New York City
- Massachusetts to Michigan with Stacey.
- Meeting and spending most of June with Shelly, not to mention meeting my brother Mike & his daughter Ally, Ben & Brad, Travis, seeing my father for the 2nd time AND reconnecting with all my friends in Michigan after 10-15 years. Maybe the most relentlessly intense 5-weeks of my life.
- The week at the Iowa 80 & King Dirk.
- Learning about and processing Dennis's death. The eternal 5-hour ride.
- Devils Tower
- Leslie & Carthage, SD
- Joel, Don, Grand Forks, Williston ND
- Meeting Lynette, Dave, Mike, Amanda, & Steph in Boise
- Andre
- Port Townsend
- Meeting Amber - House-sitting, selling the car, and PROCESSING PORTLAND
- Quitting smoking
- New Year's in Boise
And, this is just the inadequate cliff-notes version. Thanks to Chris, Bobby, Devin & Leif, Brian & Joey, Gus, Lauren, Mandela, Cody, Wendie, Katie, Fast Joe, and everyone else who made 2009 what it was! I wish I could list everyone, and as usual I wish I would have stayed in touch with more people. Maybe next year?
