On the Road Again 2011 - Blog 27

I only spent one night at Sally's before heading back to Duncan to see my grand son. I was looking forward to having the chance to spend lots of time with him and his parents. I had been out west for over three weeks and yet I had not seen a lot of them. I got to be with the cute little guy almost as much as I wanted.

For a variety of reasons both of his parents were busy for three days out of the 6 days I was there. I got to look after Cohen (all by myself) for 2 of those days. Pretty special times.

Being a granddad is ....I can't think of any other words for it than "pretty neat". While I have loved my kids and have enjoyed every minute (almost) of being a dad and I have to say it keeps on getting better and better with both of them, being a granddad is something special. I felt it the second my son-in-law in North Bay called to tell me about my granddaughter being born, I felt it just as strongly when my first grandson was born and it was no different with my grandson in BC. Being a granddad is pretty neat!!!! Perhaps the highlight (at least in terms of outings) of my babysitting activities was going to the parade in Duncan. I was excited. The kid was less so and other than liking the kids riding their bikes in the parade, I don't think he was all that impressed.

One of the great things that happened this summer was that I got to spend time with my daughter-in-laws parents. I have known her father for a few years but we had never really talked. This year we had lots of time to get to know each other. Her father was very generous and graceful in letting me spend more than my fair share of time with the kid. He and I got a long just fine which feels pretty good. I will be always grateful that my daughter-in-law and her family have been so welcoming to me. It feels good, at least in some small way,  to be part of another family.

When I wasn't with the kid, or talking to his parents I either read or else work on my new walking stick. This is the 4th stick that my son has given me. All of them have come apart in the middle so that I can travel with them. It has always seemed to me that the odds of me getting a ride while carrying a five foot stick were somewhat remote. This stick came from a cherry sapling and we had been working on it for the past three years. It had been cut down the first spring, dried over the winter, shaped a bit last summer to get rid of some of the curves and finally now I was carving it. A lot of work but it keeps my hands busy and my mind out of trouble.

I don't know what I will ever do with them. I don't need them to walk with (yet). But the four of them, along with some canes that I have carved rest in a corner of my kitchen. I walk by them ten times a day. Sometimes I reach out and touch one, marveling at how the wood showed me the pattern I was to carve, delighting in the colour and the texture of the wood. Sometimes, in the dark or when I am carrying something bulky I knock them all down, where they clatter on the floor like some malformed bowling pins. But even then I smile because they remind of a trip out west, or of a journey or of a  place that I have been. Perhaps that is what the sticks are for. Not to hold up this sometimes aging body, but rather to lift my spirits up and to hold them up high as I remember the people and the places that I have been, and the blessing that I have received.

On the Road Again 2011 - Blog 26

The drive home was uneventful in part because everyone was tired and I suspect lost in their thoughts. We had thought about stopping at the same motel as we had stayed in going into the Gathering but they were full up. We couldn't decide what to do, stop and sleep or stop and eat and then drive some more. So we kept on driving. We stopped briefly at a fruit stand and loaded up on fruit and some veggies. Then we stopped for sandwiches and other stuff as we decided that if we were going to drive any distance we needed some real food. We had worked hard that day and were both physically and emotionally exhausted. All of this took time. All of this dithering (although no one called it that) caused some friction and some grumpiness.

A few hours later it was dark and I was driving. I got conflicting requests as to what to do. When I did turn off the highway to look for a motel, we couldn't find any, or rather the few that we did see were far too expensive. When I went in to ask the price of a room the clerks stared blankly at me as if I did not fit into their decor. I suspect that I looked less than presentable. The four other people in the van were quite good about giving suggestions as to what to ask for, but they were not willing to go in and ask for themselves. I think they may have felt in even worse shape than me.

They also didn't like my driving. It was a long van and the suspension was shot. Amongst other things this meant that it swayed a fair amount. This was very noticeable in the back especially when one went close to the speed limit (or a bit above) The road was clear and I wanted to get home. So the van swayed a lot. I should have gone slower.

Finally we reached the town of Tacoma, Washington. It had five or six motels in a row and we got a place that was sort of big enough for a $100. I along with one other person slept on the floor. As long as I got the shower first - I didn't care where I slept.

Tacoma is about 35 miles from Seattle, which meant that we were about 250-260 from Vancouver. I thought that with any luck at all we could be in Vancouver by just after noon. I was wrong. I was up early and went for breakfast at a Denny's around the corner. No one appeared from the room until after 10:30. The others apparently had to sort out some issues with each other which I think is a polite way of saying that they had an argument. I spent the time walking around the city trying to figure out why it existed.

Tacoma is near an air force base so there were lots of young men driving around in relatively nice cars. There were also a lot of small townhouses, some of which had for rent signs in them. I suspect that people who didn't want to live on base rented then when they were posted at the base.  There were also a number of Korean restaurants in the area. Three out of the four that I saw had gone out of business. I don't have a clue what that means. I of course only saw a small part of the city .Many of the houses that I saw were well maintained and the elementary school looked new, but there was a sense that the city was not thriving, that it was at the very least experiencing the consequences of the economic down turn.

When one of the workers came out and mentioned that perhaps we would stop for a picnic and would perhaps not get home that night I was a bit frustrated. Then Sally came out and said that she wanted to buy a chair in the room.  I was more than a bit frustrated. I think it would be fair to say that everyone, in fairly short order, understood my point of view. We needed to get going. If I had realized how long they were all going to take, I could have got on a bus and been home before they got out of the room.

The chair got bought and tied to the car, we got back on the highway and except for a brief stop to eat up the rest of the fruit before we got to the border we didn't stop. That is the way one should travel!

We made the last ferry to Salt Spring Island. That was cutting it all a bit close. If the rush hour traffic going past Seattle had been just a tiny bit worse, we would not have made it.

On the Road Again 2011 - Blog 25

When I am camping, I can always tell when I have had enough, when it is time to go home - I start to dream of sitting in a real chair! I carry around with me a canvas thing that allows my back to be supported while sitting on the ground but after 10 or so days my back is begging for a real chair. Right on schedule I started to have that dream.

By July 6th, people are starting to pack up and usually by the 7th most of the kitchens have started to come down. All of that stuff that was carried up the trail, now needs to be carried back down it. Every bit of string or rope, every log or pole used to hold up a tarp, every stone used to dig hold up a grate and every hole must be filled in. It is a huge amount of work and people stay around for another 2-3 weeks doing cleanup, re-seeding the trails and making sure that all of the shiiters are filled in. Sally says it is the best part of the Gathering. It is during cleanup that the Family really demonstrates it commitment to the land and to each other.


On the 6th I moved my stuff to the other side of the Gathering and put up my tent near Sally's tepee. There was a little bit of stuff ready to be carried to the van so I made 1 or 2 trips to the van which was parked a bit further away than I thought it would be. That evening I sat around another campfire and talked to some young folks about the Gathering and about their plans for the rest of the summer and into the fall. Talking to the young, frequently first time Gatherers, is one of the roles that I have fallen into. I think they think that I am one of the old timers, and it is rare that they get chance to talk to them so they are always delightfully polite and receptive my suggestions that they can carry the Rainbow Way home with them by saying thank you to bus drivers and store clerks, by holding doors open for people, and by picking up garbage that they see on the sidewalk. Simple things that remind them that we are all connected and that we all have the responsibility to share what we have and to be kind to others and the environment. Pretty simple stuff - but it seems to sound a chord within them.

Around the fire there were two or three young people who were, I think, Israeli,. They danced and sang some songs in Hebrew. They were rather shy but it was fun to watch them. I met one young man who had just finished a liberal arts degree at an American college. He wanted to be a writer but he didn't know how to start or what to write. I suggested that he write about the campfire, the songs and the conversations - just like I am doing. He said that that sounded almost too easy.... I said it  might be harder than he thought. I hope he does write, he had some interesting thoughts.

The next morning I was up early and as Sally's workers got their stuff together, I carried it to the car. It was a long day as I made at least 4 trips to the car carrying bags, drums (all three of them), guitar and mandolin. One of the workers had a pack that was almost as tall as her. I could not lift it on to my back. It was a blow to my male ego but I told her that she was on her own with that one. I think I am almost at that point in my life where I don't care if people think that I am weak. Thankfully the last load of stuff ( including the big pack) was carried on some one's wagon. I was more than a little bit thankful.  I was beat. 

It took awhile for everyone to say good-by but we were out of there long before I thought we would be.It was tough for some of the older members of the Family. Some of them are ill and they are all ageing. They might not all be back next year.

It is a strange feeling to leave a Gathering. For many, so much energy has been invested in getting there, setting up and participating in a life that most can only dream about. For a week or ten days, we get to belong to a family, a community that for the most part genuinely cares about all of its members. We get to work with, hang out with, become close to hundreds of people - all of whom have a common vision. Some articulate the dream better than others, some only know they need or want something different that what is available in that world that the Family calls Babylon. But we are all there because we have a commo

n yearning of what the world could be - should be. But many of us who are there also are tired and rather desperately need a shower and a soft bed. So we leave the Gathering, promising to come back home next year. It always sad to leave and I think most of us cry at some point.