Sunday, March 28
This morning, we had breakfast with Chris in Mill Valley.
We reaffirmed our intention to vacation in Utah this summer,
if not together, then at least getting together at some point
in the trip. He has not heard from the Forestry Service, so
chances of him being a ranger appear dim. He leaves soon for
a 4-week trip to China. Don said he'd mark the date on his
calendar so he'd be sure to call him the minute he got back.
Sunday afternoon afforded an opportunity for another milestone.
Roger took Don for a bicycle ride in Samuel P. Taylor State
Park. The bike path that parallels the creek there is wide
and flat and rarely has any motorized traffic. We headed
there in the early afternoon. Although the air was a bit
cool, it was pleasantly warm in the park, perhaps because it
lies in a valley. Roger and Don mounted up - Don on the
truly awesome bike Roger had given him on his birthday -
and soon the two were pedalling off. I got a shot of them
as they started, though the CCDs on my digital camera are
not very good at capturing motion.
While they were dodging pedestrians and fellow bicyclists on
the paved path, I took a footpath along the creek. I was
amazed to find trilliums with enormous blossoms. The size of
the petals made me doubt my identification.
By a coincidence of timing,
I emerged from my trail about the time Roger and Don were
coming back along theirs. I asked Roger, who knows plants,
about the "giant trilliums."
"Yep," he said, "we grow 'em big here."
At Roger's suggestion, the two of them decided to "do a little mud,"
and headed off for a dirt path. I continued down the paved
path on my way back to the car, pausing to get a photo of some
more common trilliums growing amid the redwood sorrel. I also
paused a moment in a redwood grove and sang a little song of
thanks.
I got back to the car and the guys showed up shortly afterwards.
Roger praised Don's riding. "He had no problems and didn't
run over anyone," he said.
The ride was timed so Don and I would be able to get into The
City in time for Parusha's birthday dinner in the Mission.
We actually arrived nearly an hour early, which is a good thing.
Don had accidentally picked up one of my thank-you cards instead
of Parusha's birthday card, so we spent the extra hour walking
up and down Valencia, looking for an appropriate card. We
finally found one with a lotus on it and returned to the Herbavore
restaurant.
It was a lively evening. Because we were the first to arrive,
the tables more or less coalesced around us. Much to my delight,
Davis was among the first to arrive. He sidled onto the bench
beside me and started to talk
as the party filled up the tables around us.
He said he'd get me the information about staying at the
American Friends guest house, called Davis House, in Washington
D.C., in case I wanted to stay there during the Singers' Weekend
in September.
He asked me more about gay choruses and their audition process, and
I asked him about his upcoming trip to Asia.
I also gave him the thank-you card, having previously slipped it
to Don for his signature.
Jnani was among the last to arrive, and when she did, there were
only two seats left at the other end of the table. Nevertheless,
she decided to sit beside Davis. She told all of us
to "scoot down" on the bench to make room for her.
It was a very assertive move, almost resulting in the woman
at the far end of the bench being scooted right onto the floor.
'You go, girl!' I thought. I wondered if Davis understood
what was going on.
To my disappointment, Sara was not among the partyers. I had thought
she was going to distribute the copies of Don's schedule tonight.
I sighed and tried once again to let go of my need to bring some
order to Don's life. I guess if his friends weren't like this,
they wouldn't be his friends.
I reminded Don to speak to Maha about moving forward on the angiogram.
Maha had not yet spoken to Dr. Forrester, so there was no news to
report. However, Don himself now seems to be making it a top
priority, so I have more faith that something will actually
be done.
Don grew tired around 8:30 PM, so we announced our intention to
leave. As we were headed for the door, Davis got up, came around
the table, and gave me a big hug. I really enjoyed that. He also
gave Don a hug, and Don enjoyed it, too.
On our way to the car, Don revealed a second reason for hurrying
home. Having thought the dinner was at five o'clock, not six, he
thought he would be home by eight. Consequently, he hadn't taken
his medication with him. He would be more than an hour overdue
by the time we got home. "Maybe you should keep a little
emergency stash with you at all times," I said. He agreed that
this would be a good idea.
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1. Breakfast in Mill Valley
2. Don on the Loose
3. Trilliums and Sorrel
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Monday, March 29
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Tuesday, March 30
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Wednesday, March 31
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Thursday, April 1
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Friday, April 2
Don arrived by train in time for him to join me during the last
hour at work, which meant he also go to meet my boss, Mark.
After dinner at my place, we headed for San Jose and the
Silicon Valley Gay Men's Chorus concert. The show was an
evening of Rogers and Hammerstein numbers, done in cabaret
style with many soloists, duets, and a few small groups.
There were only about four full-chorus numbers. Many of the
soloists were excellent, but I must say the show never really
caught my imagination. It had no structure, and after about
an hour, even Rogers and Hammerstein sound like just one damn
thing after another.
However, after the show, it was great to mill around in the
lobby and talk to the guys again. I'm looking forward to
rejoining the chorus for their next concert - and settling into
the long haul that will bring us to GALA 2000 next year.
Many of the chorus members remembered Don, too, which I thought
was very sweet.
At home, I threw out the Nutcracker program from last Christmas
and the ticket for the December 11 concert we never went to. The
last bit of private magic was done away with. Now we face
reality unarmed. I think we're ready.
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Saturday, April 3
The morning started out sunny, but we still failed to
get out of bed in time to join the FrontRunners for their FunRun.
Instead, I made
Don a late breakfast of French toast while he worked on
his cognitive exercises in the kitchen.
There was hope of selling the car as a man who came by to
look at it earlier in the week telephoned to say he wanted
a second look. He arrived around noon with his parents, and
we went for a spin on Highway 101. When we got back, he made
an offer that was $1,500 below our asking price. I countered
with $500 below. He came up another $500. I said I would
have to talk to Don, as that was $500 below what we had originally
set as our bottom line (and well below blue-book value).
"I think I can say for certain that we'd accept $7,750, and
we'd pay for the smog test." They guy seemed a little reluctant.
His mom was very enthusiastic about the car. His dad hadn't
said more than 3 words the entire hour. When we got back home,
they stood outside for another fifteen minutes or so, talking.
I wondered aloud if I should have taken then $7,500 offer.
"No," Don said. "We can get more than that."
The day proceded pretty much at that domestic pace. I payed
some bills; Don worked on his "maps of the continents."
Even though it was only Holy Saturday, I had Don hunt for
his Easter basket.
"You mean it's hidden?" he asked.
"I know it's a cruel thing to do," I said, "but it's
traditional."
"What does 'hidden' mean?" he asked.
"It's behind, beneath, or inside something."
"Great." He said. "It's bad enough when things are hiding
out in plain sight," meaning, I suppose, his field cut.
but he found it easily enought, hiding in the bookcase. A
Cadbury chocolate creme egg was the first to go.
In the afternoon, we walked to downtown Mountain View
for some shopping. We stopped by
the East-West bookstore, where Don picked up a copy of
the Bhagavad Ghita. The night before, I had read him
"East Coker," one of T. S. Eliot's Four Quartets.
I chose it because of the Good Friday section, and as
an example of the kind of poetry I like to use as a focus
for meditation. He so enjoyed it
that he decided to read to me as well.
We agreed that the Bhagavad Ghita would be a good
place to start.
The weather turned sharply chill while we were in the store.
While we were had a light, late lunch
at Lucy's, a storm blew through, full of wind and light
rain. Our walk
home was much brisker than our walk downtown had been.
That evening, my housemate, Steve, joined us and we all went
to a movie. We picked
The Matrix, a Keanu Reeves sci-fi flick that promised
lots of action and special effects. It turned out to have
a little thought behind it, too, about consensual reality,
free will, and fate. The early scenes, which involved Reeves in some
bizarre futuristic settings, many of them hospital- or
prison-like and all of them laced with paranoia, were deeply
disturbing to Don. I didn't know about this until afterwards,
when he explained it to me.
"It was all so loud and chaotic," he said. "It felt like a
seizure. Not that I felt I was in any danger of having a seizure
or that I thought it would bring on a seizure, but that it was
what I imagine a seizure would be like. All that information and
none of it making any sense and no way to stop it."
When we got home, there was a message from the potential buyer.
He declined our offer, deciding instead to buy a 4-door Toyota.
I went to bed feeling more than a little disappointed. Since
the money from the sale of the car would have gone directly to
me to pay off some of Don's $10,000 loan, I had already started
parcelling it out for various domestic projects. It's
hard for me to live under the pinch of an income that's just
short of what I need. But how can that be? I make a great deal
more than most people, certainly more than most of Don's
friends. It's just that I feel I should be prosperous, and
instead I feel precarious. And I want Don to have a share of
prosperity, too. Reducing his debt - even though it is a debt
to me - would be a big step in the right direction.
Oh, well. Time enough for worries tomorrow. Easter, and the
start of Daylight Savings Time. Perhaps it will be a new
dawn in a number of ways.
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Lunch at Lucy's
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