Enough Navel Gazing

Well, I arrived here one year ago today. It was appropriate to take a look back. But that is enough of that.

So what's around the next curve on the road of life?

Whooo-boy, ain't we going to have some fun now!

Grandchild on the way. Sons to spend time with and get to know again. A daughter to begin to build some sort of relationship with. A career to pursue. Friends to meet. And of course, exploring California.

God looks out for fools, Irishmen and ships named Enterprise. Two out of three ain't bad. So far, so good.

Travels with Will

More from my journal of 2004:

My son and I traveled to the coast north of San Francisco, Point Reyes.

That area of the coast is prone to high thick fogs. The mood could be considered dreary. On the other hand it is also spectacular and at the same time contemplative. I was not feeling particularly contemplative. More than anything else I was glad to be there and glad to be with my son. It was more than just a change of scene from the recently finished losing battle back in the Midwest. I was just glad to be there.

Driving up to the point we passed from warm sun and the intensely blue sky of inland California to the chill fog and wind of the northern coast. We passed through Napa and Sonoma counties. There was mile after mile of vineyards.

The wind was blustery on the point. The fog hung one hundred feet or so above our heads which explains why the light is halfway down the cliff. The surf crashed on the rocks below drowning out most other sounds.

We spent time exploring the light, enjoying the vistas… and then came the walk back to the top of the cliff from the lighthouse. Will virtually danced up the 300 plus steps. I, on the other hand, had a serious ringing in my ears before I was half way up. A little further on the pain in my chest was approaching cardiac proportions. Will had the decency not to laugh at his de-conditioned father.

When at last this Everest, at least to me, had been conquered, we drove around the national park lands and then back to our hotel. The hotel was a gem, The Point Reyes Lodge. Its one negative was the fact that it was about a hundred yards from the famed San Andreas Fault. A somewhat unnerving consideration for this flatlander. I did not come to know that until shortly before we left. The Lodge had gardens with an enormous variety of flowers which I thoroughly enjoyed.

The grounds were spacious. A small stream ran between the hotel grounds and the federal land beyond on the Point Reyes reserve. Cattle grazed in an adjacent pasture. There was a large variety of song birds, well fed by the hotel owners and humming birds. A more serene spot would be hard to imagine.

A macro lens and some lovely gardening made for very nice pictures. Composing those pictures was therapeutic. I spent a good deal of time in the garden at the Point Reyes Lodge.

After exploring the Point Reyes area, Will and I set off for San Francisco. We headed south on the PCH, the Pacific Coast Highway, the famous Route 1. Our “ride” was a late model Mercedes sedan with an adjustable suspension, a feature I was going to come to value. The PCH is primitive in that part of California. It often is cut out of the cliff faces with precipitous drops to the rocks and surf 200 to 300 feet below.

Will was at the wheel and approached the challenge with an élan worthy of a grand prix driver. I remember saying several times, “We are all going to die.” Will would chuckle as we rocketed around the next curve and into another bank of fog, and I enjoyed the unnerving view out the passenger window of waves crashing on boulders far below.

To my surprise and relief we lived. Muir Beach and Muir Woods awaited us, and then my beloved San Francisco. “Highway to Hell” by AC/DC boomed from the speakers of the car stereo. It was not exactly the sort of tune I might have picked, but damn, it was cool. I loved it.

We passed through the tunnel at Sausalito and immediately the tops of the towers of the Golden Gate Bridge appeared rising over a coastal hill. It is a sight of which I never tire.

If there is a scene more stunning than the Golden Gate Bridge, I do not know what it is. The bridge itself is majestic, but so are the George Washington and Verazano Narrows in New York. It is not the signal red paint that makes the Golden Gate stand out. What makes the Golden Gate unique is its setting.
To the north are the Marin Headlands (about which more will be said and pictured later) and to the south is the Presidio of San Francisco. Both at one time were major military installations designed to protect San Francisco Harbor from seaborne menaces. They are now parks, either of the City in the case of the Presidio or the Golden Gate National Park in the case of the Headlands. Between these two huge parks is framed the bridge. To either side of the bridge is the Pacific Ocean and San Francisco Bay.

The bridge and its setting combine in a harmony of nature and technology that is seldom seen. It fits. It is difficult to imagine that narrows without the bridge.

My somewhat jaded son feels the same.

And, so, to the dulcet tones of AC/DC, we entered San Francisco over a wonder of the world.

Looking Back

Coming home to California was not exactly my idea. Have you ever been laid off from a job? This is what it felt like. Who could know it would turn into a new life?

From my 2004 journal:


"John, could you come to Conference Room B,” the voice of my boss requested over the phone.

Well, here it comes,” I said to myself.

You read about layoffs. You know people who have been laid off. But, trust me, until it happens to you, you have no idea what it is really like.

Several people had received similar calls before me. The looks of fear, anger, resignation and defiance were plain to see. I counted myself among the resigned.

Truth of the matter was we had all known something of this sort was coming for quite some time. During the time leading up to that final day, I felt variety of emotions ranging from relief to fear to depression. Suicide was a possibility I entertained. What is a fifty-seven year old man going to do? What are his job prospects? Is there any future worthy of considering?

I did not enjoy what I was doing for a living. I was doing it for the money, not a dishonorable pursuit, but not very satisfying. I did the job reasonably well, but there was no joy in it.

In addition to losing my job, I had recently had some medical diagnostics done which pointed toward a major surgery. The surgery was scheduled for a several weeks after the layoff. That surgery would have to be canceled until other matters were resolved.

Up to Conference Room B I went. There sat the Grim Reapers. They were not enjoying themselves. My boss was near tears and the personnel person was steeled for her ugly task looking like no one as much as Nurse Ratchet from “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest.” The usual severance speech was given. I suppressed my fear and anger, defaulting to resignation, and did my best to not make them feel worse than they already did.

And so began my journey home. I had a trip planned to see my eldest son in California long before layoffs appeared on the horizon. I debated with myself whether or not to go after the axe fell. I decided that I would go.

I had lived in the Midwest for over thirty years. I was a native Californian, but circumstances of one kind and another conspired to keep me in the center of the country. Those circumstances included college and graduate school, marriage, career, children and a variety of other factors. There had been several personal disasters along the way, including a divorce, but I had survived them all and remained where I was. But this most recent misfortune seemed to be a turning point.

I had been back to California several times in the last few years. I had renewed my love for the state during those trips. With the loss of my job, I again got on the plane heading west.

My son, Will, met me at the airport in Sacramento. The weather was unusually cool for that city in July. We went to his girl friend’s house and celebrated the 4th of July and finalized our plans for a few days at Point Reyes and the Bay area.

Why would I stay in the Midwest?” I asked myself while enjoying the balmy and sunny weather and the company of my son next to the pool.

Well, there were good answers to that question. I had professional licenses and connections there. While finding a good job would be difficult, it would be far easier there than anywhere else. But that was it: no personal relationships, no affection for place and no family. All the family I had, three children and a brother were elsewhere, my brother in Florida and the children in California.

Time to go home.

Will I miss the freezing cold of January or the stifling heat and humidity of August in Missouri? Not a bit.

But I sure will miss the St. Louis Cardinals. As this is written (September 2004), they are having their best season in many years. By the end of September they were over 100 wins and playing everybody but the bat boy in preparation for the post season.

But aside from not being able to see the Cards, there is nowhere on earth I would rather be than Northern California.

I need a job. We just had a 6.0 earthquake and numerous after shocks. There have been some fires in the hills. But my God, how I love this beautiful place, my birth place.

Golden Gate in Photoshop

Father and Son

I love that boy, er... young man.

Wandering around San Francisco, rediscovering it for me and showing it to him for the first time, was a delight.

From Marin Headlands

Down on the Wharf

Up on Pacific Heights

Telegraph Hill

Early Morning at the Golden Gate

The City by the Bay

In 2000 I came back to San Francisco for the first time since I was a child. I was born across the Bay in Berkeley. (Friends who know me well think that is just a riot.) I have always loved the area.

San Francisco is weird, outrageous and the people who run it seem to be in closer touch with the mothership than they are with the rest of this country. Long gone are its roots with the Italian immigrants, the railroad robber barons, the Chinese businessmen, merchants and fishermen, the military and everything else that made the city what it once was. Yet it remains great, cutting edge and one of the most beautiful and cosmopolitan cities in the world. I love the place.

So I'll devote a few posts to the town where I left my heart.

Anniversary - Day 4 - A New Home

This was going to be the day. A couple hours after rising, I was in Reno and the California border lay just ahead of me. The wandering in the Wilderness was nearly over.

Bella by this time was decidedly grumpy. My loving little hair ball nearly bit me that morning. She has no idea how close she came to riding in the trunk of the car that was being towed behind the U-Haul. But I forgave her, and she assumed her place in her carrier on the passenger seat beside me, belted in of course.

Reno is a bit of a mess on I-80. Perhaps it was just the fact that the interstate was under construction. Or perhaps it was because the town was in fact a mess. I weathered the orange barrels and the traffic and eventually cleared the city.

Then there they were, the Sierras!

And the climb to Donner Pass began. In the 1800s a band of pioneers led by a fellow named Donner met ruin here. They had timed their passage just a hair to late in the season. Near the top of the pass they were caught in a blizzard. It was not pretty scene as the party was reduced to cannibalism before the survivors were eventually rescued.

A blizzard seemed to be a low risk proposition in late July, so I merrily found, crept, my way up these beautiful mountains. Each mile was a thrill, not because I was nearly at my destination, but because of the intensely beautiful place in which I found myself.

I descended the mountains toward Sacramento where Will, my eldest son, lives. I spent a few hours with him and then was heading down the central valley on I-5 150 miles or so to Pacheco Pass. That pass would take me over the coastal range to Monterey County.

I was home. I was bone tired from the long four day drive, but I had made it. Once over the pass and into the San Juan Valley I began to smell the ocean and feel the sea breeze. God had seen me through.

I was too tired to even think by the time I got to Anita Mason's home.

Irony of ironies; when I got into her neighborhood, which is snuggled into the hills near Toro Mountain, for the first time in 2500 miles, I got lost! I did such a good job of it, I got the truck into a place from which I could not maneuver at all. I was totally stuck and could not even get the car of its trailer in the position in which I found myself.

Fortunately a fellow came along, and with a lot of patience and hand signals on his part, we were able to get the truck to where I could free the car. Once the car was free, the rest was easy. A cell phone call to Anita, and I was out of there.

Home at last, home at last, great God almighty, home at last.

Anniversary - Day 3

I awoke on my third morning near the Continental Divide. It was not what I had been expecting. I had expected soaring mountains. But in southern Wyoming it is a plateau.

I passed such garden spots at Sinclair, Wyoming. This town is the namesake of the oil company of the same name. Other than a refinery and some railroad tracks there was not much to see in the metropolis of Sinclair.

Wyoming is huge. It took a full day of driving to cross it. I was glad when I had.

The land scape changed almost immediately upon entering Utah. I was awestruck with the rock formations, mesas, deep valleys. The drive through northeastern Utah was glorious. I stopped frequently to look at the scenery.

My anxieties had yielded to my sense of adventure. This was fun. I took my time all the way into Salt Lake City.

Then came the next big change just west of Salt Lake. It was thousands of square miles of salt flats all the way to Nevada. Hot, salty and depressing. What a god-awful place.

I got across Utah as quickly as I could. The salt flats ended at the Nevada line. It was now thousands of square miles of kitty litter with mountains. Again, I was not impressed. Additionally, it was flaming hot

I drove on.

Finally, about one hundred miles east of Reno I stopped. The next day I would be in California. All that stood in my way now were the last few miles of Nevada, the Sierras, California's San Juaquin Valley, and I would be home, home to the Pacific.

Anniversary - Day 2

On the second day I awoke early and packed an increasingly cranky attack cat, Bella, into her travel case. It was Midwest hot even at sunup. I had a country breakfast, stoked up on coffee and fired up my trusty U-Haul.

Trusty U-Haul?

I neglected to mention something from the first day. About 100 miles west of Lincoln, Nebraska the truck lost all power. There I was in the middle of nowhere with a dead truck. I managed to get the now worthless heap off an exit where there fortunately was a truckstop. I called U-Haul on my cell phone, and about an hour later a mechanic who looked like a refugee from The Dukes of Hazzard appeared. He scratched his head, pulled his ear lobe and finally said, "Hmmm."

That's like a dentist saying, "Hmmm." The sense of dread I experienced was indescribable. I had visions of days being spent in the God-forsaken place while spare parts were flown in from Brazil.

Well, Gomer was a pretty clever sort. He pulled off the fuel filter and blew what appeared to be some sort of crud out of it. After replacing the filter, he lit a cigarette and said, "I guess that will do it." I waited in vain for him to go up in a ball of flames.

The truck fired right up. I went up the next exit and there found an old fashioned motel where I spent one of the loneliest nights of my life. I called Carol just to hear a familiar voice, but no one was home. That was just as well, because if she had answered with the way I was feeling, I might just might have turned around and gone back from where I had come.

After breakfast that second morning, with only some reluctance, I pointed the truck toward Wyoming.

Western Nebraska, the panhandle, is not Midwestern at all. By the time I got to the Wyoming border, I knew I was in the West. There were no trees, no crops, only wide open road and barbed wire. The place was barren but somehow mystic to this flatlander who had never been in those parts in his life.

From the border to Cheyenne is basically, well, straight up. This was The Rockies. The truck was not enjoying the uphill parts of this trip. The downhill side of the mountains was, er... thrilling. I worried constantly about the brakes. But we, Bella and I, made it fine.

Once over the front range, Wyoming along I-80 is wide open, flat for the most part though at considerable elevation above sealevel, barren, cold and WINDY.

I stopped for the night at some chain hotel and ate a good dinner. I was more alone than lonely that night. I ate a steak dinner and retired to my room to watch a movie and get a good night's sleep.

Happy Anniversary - Adios Columbia!

One year ago today I left Missouri. About 6:00 in the morning I woke up at my friend Carol's house where I spent my last night in Columbia. The truck was packed and my car on its trailer.

The night before had been spent working in the heat to get the 26' U-Haul ready to go. Carol, her son Jake, Stephanie, Stephanie's mother Terri, and a friend named Bill worked long hot hours in the July heat getting me ready for the road. By the time we were done, I was totally exhausted. But that next morning I was determined to get going. I did not wake Carol up. I closed the door behind me and never looked back.

I headed out of town, down the familiar streets of Columbia. I had a vaguely heartsick feeling. I knew I was leaving never to return. And then I pulled onto I-70 heading west, and I was gone. Elation and sadness flowed in equal proportions.

California here I come!

As the sun was setting that first night I was pulling off the road somewhere in the middle of Nebraska. It still felt like the Midwest, but somehow things were different.

The corn fields were giving way to cattle country. The air was distinctly less humid than it was back further east. I was to learn later that I was advancing into the land of the big sky. The horizons were not only further away, they were much clearer.

The next day would bring me to totally unfamiliar country in Wyoming.

Thanks to my buddies Carol and Steph for making this a lot easier than it might have been. I miss ya guys. Is it time to go home yet?

Stormy Weather?

Musings for a Monday Evening

I came home from work, not late, and promptly collapsed into a one hour nap. Bella crawled up on my chest and looked into my eyes. She then put her chin down on me and began to purr. When that did not get her what she wanted, she headbutted my hand softly until I stroked her head and back. In that way we dozed off together. Bella (The Attack Cat aka Six Pounds of Attitude) loves her daddy.

Now, why am I so darned tired?

Saturday we did some yardwork around the house. It was not heavy work. However, it was hot for this neck of the woods with temperatures in the 90s. I think it pretty well wore me out.

There is a lot on my mind these days. My busy mind is slow to go to sleep at night. Then, at 5:30 in the morning, there is my brain waiting for me on the headboard saying, "We need to talk." Sometimes my brain is not my friend.

I know I need to be making some serious decisions about my life in the coming months. At the same time things keep happening that distract me from moving on with life. The serious neck injury being a good example.

Tonight I'm going to try to get into bed early and curl up with a John Grisham novel.

Did I Mention Love?

Rejoice

It's Sunday, and as usual, my mind turns to things that give my life meaning and context.

I could write quite a lot, but better thinkers than I have said it before and more artfully than I could. My mind turns to resources like C.S. Lewis, Tony DeMello, Paul Tillich, The Bible and many others who have informed my thinking and attitudes. All of that melds into making me what I am and who I want to be.

The small posts below are but a few of the concepts I value.

Today is good. It is the day He has given us. Let us rejoice in it.

Change

Community

Faith

Serenity

Time

Power

Beauty

Solitude

Freedom

One of those Random Musings

I guess I know why I am here.

It is really odd how things work out. I let my children down terribly as they were growing up, and now an opportunity has arisen to begin to in some degree to make things right. I am not too sure how far I will get in that regard in the years left to me. I do know that I am going to do whatever I can.

I would not have been here at all had fate not intervened. I was caught up in a layoff back in Missouri a little over a year ago. Shortly thereafter I was visiting my son Will here in California. I was not at all sure what I was going to do. I told him that I might relocate to California, an old friend had offered a home.

All Will said was, "Go for it, Dad."

And I did. And here we are. And here we go.

So, there will be no more looking back. As Satchel Page said, "Never look back, they're probably gaining on you." From this point forward, it is all about now and now and now. Plan for the future but live in the moment. And if we do "now" well, tomorrow will take care of itself.

My Boys - Mike and Will

Will and Sue

Family...

These are my kiddos, perhaps a bit younger than they are now: Will, Becky and Mike. Will is the one who is about to make me Grandpa.
This is my grand daughter, Ava Lee Wilson. I'm sure you can all see the family resemblance. Until recently she was the Grand Fetus, but is now duly named and ready for delivery soon.

On the Road Again...

July 26th 2004 I set out on my adventure. Across Missouri, Nebraska, Wyoming, Utah, Nevada and finally to California. As we said back in the 60s, "What a trip!"