1. I woke up this morning in the peaceful silence of the Airbnb suite I rented. I fixed myself coffee. I sat and drank it. In my solitude, I thought about Deborah and Scott and Leonard and my days at Whitworth and felt the invisible presence of scores of people I knew or knew of from Whitworth. I let the gratitude I felt for the past envelop me and I felt very thankful for the richness of what I was experiencing in the present: peace, rejuvenation, stimulation, love, restedness, and even a bit of confidence. I took a long luxury shower. I began to gather my things, did my best to leave where I'd been staying in as good of condition as I found it, and I left.
2. My next stop was a return to Rockwood Bakery to have coffee with Debbie. She was on her way to Portland today and Eugene on Sunday. She is going to live in Eugene for an indeterminate amount of time and work as a substitute teacher in School District 4J.
I drove down Washington Street and up the South Hill on Stevens. I drove past the Altadena Apartments where I lived for about seven months, starting in November of 1983. I loved living close to downtown. I loved my spacious and beautiful apartment. Life was very intense during those seven months. I was veering between elation, confusion, depression, and any number of other feelings. I've never experienced another period in my life that so raw and, at the same time, so joyful. As I drove by the Altadena, I felt another rush of gratitude for Whitworth friends, especially those who were reliable, steady, persistent, and fun at a time when I was feeling, some days, like I was doing the best work of my life while, at other times, I felt ragged and disoriented and difficult to be around.
Those seven months started thirty-six years ago and they flashed before me as I made my way past St. John's Cathedral, as I drove by Manito Park, and as I eased into a parking spot near the Rockwood Bakery.
I arrived before Debbie did and found a place to sit outside for a while and eased myself back into the present and calmed down. Debbie arrived and we sat for a while, talked about this and that, walked back to our respective cars, and said so long to each other.
3. I didn't drive on the freeway until I reached Spokane Bridge Road near State Line. I didn't want to drive fast. I drove east on Sprague and took in the long chaos of strip malls, mattress stores, thrift stores, convenience markets, bars, car dealerships, storefront churches, big box stores, and fast food drive ins. I finally got on I-90 and cruised on to Kellogg. I was happy to see Charly peacefully resting on the living room rug. I sat near her and began to think about what it would be like to live in this house alone again for at least several weeks and how I was going to make it enjoyable.
Later in the evening, I took the Chromebook to bed and spent three or four hours on YouTube watching a vast array of different kinds of music videos. I watched several Pentatonix performances; I watched the Traveling Wilburys; I saw a link to Joe Walsh performing with Daryl Hall in Daryl Hall's home studio. Suddenly I learned that for several years Daryl Hall had a regular program called Live from Daryl's House and I watched clip after clip from different episodes and, at one point, watched an entire episode of Daryl Hall and his house band making thrilling music with three members of Cheap Trick, including one of my favorite of all guitarists, Rick Nielson. Then I watched old Hall and Oates music videos from the 70s and 80s and, in a way I never had before, I fell into a new and richer and deeper love with their music.
I don't know how I ever calmed myself down to go to sleep, but, finally, about 12:30 a.m., I did and I fell into a very happy sleep in the company of memories of the Whitworth days and with a new love for Hall and Oates, whose music had provided a soundtrack for much that I was experiencing at Whitworth between 1982-84 in the early hey day of MTV.
No comments:
Post a Comment