Sunday, January 16
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Monday, January 17
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Tuesday, January 18
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Wednesday, January 19
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Thursday, January 20
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Friday, January 21
This is a day we had been looking forward to a lot.
Don had been planning to celebrate his
48th birthday on Saturday, the 22nd, rather than on Monday, the 24th
(the actual date), because we'll be busy at UCSF with the next MRI on
Monday.
(I think we're both pretty apprehensive about this MRI. The last
one in November was not good news. If we don't have good news
this time... Well, I don't know what.)
Don had been planning a get-together at his old place
in Bolinas for months, but as his room is now rented out to someone
else, the question of where we would stay had not been settled.
We wanted to stay three nights: Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. We'd
leave for UCSF from Bolinas Monday morning rather than from Mountain View.
That would give Don three nights and two days in Bolinas, near
his beloved Mount Tam, and we could walk on beaches, hike paths,
and just generally hang out. It would be like old times.
But where to stay?
Well, the universe falls in love with a worthy plan. Just as we
were facing the issue of how to get lodgings, I got a call from
Arveda, the realtor I used to buy my house. When my friends
Curtis and Mike were looking for a realtor, I recommended her.
The ended up buying a house in Sunnyvale through her, and she
was calling me up to say thank you. And not just say
thank you, but to offer to buy us season tickets to TheatreWorks
or pay for a weekend at a bed and breakfast. Perfect!
Don knew of a bed and breakfast on Pine Street in Bolinas.
He had recommended to Commonweal visitors back when he was
administrator of their programs and had never seen or stayed
in it himself. Now he'd get the chance.
I left work early and we packed our bags for a long weekend.
When I went to load them into the car, however, Don's valise
spilled its contents all over the dining room. He had forgotten
to zip it shut and I had forgotten to check. As I put the stuff
back into the bag, I noticed that there were two hash pipes and
a mini bong in the bottom. I had never seen them there before,
though I had looked through Don's luggage on at least two
previous occasions, trying to help him find something he had
lost. How long have these been here? I wondered. I
knew he was had smoked before on his trips to Marin, partly out
of respect for my sensibilities, and partly because the people
he liked to smoke with (and get supplies from) were up there.
Did he pack these items especially for this trip? Was there
going to be another "celebration" in addition to the birthday
party?
I put it out of my mind. After all, what Don did to celebrate
his birthday in Bolinas was his business. Or so I told myself.
I repacked the bag, putting the pipes and bong back in the
bottom again, and loaded the van.
So we drove up to Bolinas and checked into the Pine Street B&B just as the
light was fading from the (of course) gray Bolinas sky.
Given the price of a night's stay, I was a little under-whelmed
with the accomodations at first, but cheered by the fact that there was a
great stone fireplace.
I was also disappointed to find the kitchen was
stocked with groceries. Apparently, we were expected to make our
own breakfast, not have it made for us. Oh well, that's Bolinas
for you. Anyway, Arveda was paying for the first two
nights; we were only paying for the third.
I decided we should sleep in the bedroom closest to the bathroom
on the theory that it would be easier for Don to find his way
to and from it in the night. He actually got confused anyway
and at least twice walked out of the bathroom, across the living
room, and into the other bedroom before figuring out where he
was. But we settled down quickly and had a pleasant night's sleep.
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Saturday, January 22
Birthday party! And what a change from last year's. Many of Don's
friends from Commonweal were there, and a few friends from his DMK
days also showed up. The surprises were Dr. Forrester, who drove
over from Mill Valley, and Drs. Hancock
and Peterson (and their two kids), who drove all the way up from
Stanford.
There were other people in the house as well, some of whom had
nothing to do with Don. It was typical of life there that Don's
birthday party, while a special occasion, was not an exclusive
affair. There was one woman whose young son (under two years old,
I think) was a holy terror most of the day. He would grab anything
he got in reach of. It was interesting to see the difference
between his behavior and the two children of Drs. Hancock and
Peterson, one of whom was his age (though the other was barely
a toddler). Dr. Peterson's daughter was cooperative and sharing,
while the little Indian boy was self-centered and grasping. Such
wide personality differences at such an early age!
Dr. Peterson later told me that her daughter referred to Don and
me as "Donnalou." She said her daughter often takes the first
names of couples she meets and runs them together into a single
word. "It's remarkable that she immediately picked up on the fact
that you are a couple," she said.
Don was having a great time, chatting with his friends, blowing
out the candles on the cake, listening to Bo play his guitar.
I was having a good time, too. Then something happened that
slowly ruined my day, and eventually ruined the weekend.
I was walking along the corridor from the front hall to the
kitchen when Jnani suddenly grabbed my hands and pulled me
into Bo's bedroom. "I have something to tell you," she
said.
I resented be tugged along this way. I wanted to
jerk my hands away and tell her to leave me the hell alone,
but I didn't. It was a party, after all, and I didn't want
to make a scene.
Once inside Bo's bedroom, her voice dropped to conspiratorial
level. "I know you don't approve, but I thought I ought to
tell you. I gave Don some marijuana to take home."
At this I did pull away and turned my back on her.
"I don't know if it's safe for him to smoke or not," she said.
Then why the hell did you give it to him? I thought angrily.
"I thought you'd like to know," she said. "Are you going to
do anything about it?"
Yes, I was, but I sure as hell wasn't going to talk to her about
it. "We'll have to talk," I said, "Don and I will have to talk,"
and I left the bedroom.
I was furious. Okay, so I already knew Don was smoking at the
house. I had found a small film cannister of marijuana on the
back patio several weeks ago. I didn't know what it was, but when
I asked Don about it, he said, "Ooops, you weren't supposed to
see that."
We had talked about marijuana use. I told him I was against it,
but that I knew it was an important part of his process as a writer.
I insisted that he not keep any of it in the house. I told him I
thought the drug laws in this country were Draconian and unjust,
but nevertheless I did not want any of the stuff in my house. If
he smoked, I didn't want to know about it.
Now, here it was in my face. I began to stew. Was Don deliberately
trying to decieve me?
He approached me, carrying the cloth bag he usually keeps his supplements
in. He seemed to be looking for a place to set it down. "Here,"
I said, "let me take that for you."
He jerked it away. "No, that's okay," he said, and walked across the
room to the other side and put it down there then left the room.
I was sitting next to Rob Tufel at the time. "What was that all
about?" he asked.
For answer, I went over and picked up the bag. Looking through it,
I quickly found the film cannister. "He didn't want
me to find this," I said, holding it up.
"What is it?" Rob asked, then took a good look. "Oh," he said.
The rest of the evening was horrible. I got more and more upset,
thinking Don was deliberately deceiving me. Meanwhile, he was
having a wonderful time. I hadn't seen him so happy in months,
but I was divorced from his happiness, and outsider, someone to
keep secrets from.
I was not one of his Bolinas friends. I was not part of his
chosen family, not part of his home.
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A Happy Day
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