My friend Dan was born today. YES! Dan's awesome. Everyone loves
Dan. Anyone I have ever introduced Dan to has loved him. He's a great
man. He has fun and supports and loves and plays with his family. He
works hard and does what it takes. He sticks up for his friends.
Sometimes he sticks his chest out for his friends. I've known him since my first visit to Cambridge Central School. He's the first person I remember seeing in the crowd. I'll explain that later.
When I think of Dan, I think of him cruising down country roads with his bass bumping along to either Led Zeppelin, the theme song from The Good, the Bad and the Ugly, or the dramatic Ecstasy of Gold. As I've said before, Dan is one of my many heroes because he has a heart of gold, and that's all that matters.
Once we were at this hockey game in Albany, and Dan saved our necks. Cornell was playing Harvard for the championship. I went to Cornell because most of my family went there, and Brad went to RPI in Troy, so he didn't have far to travel. Dan was there because he loves sports and hanging with his friends. Also, many of us played hockey on our pond every winter, and despite all the tumbles to the ice and pucks to the shin, Dan loved every minute of it. Anyway, they had just disallowed two straight Harvard goals, and for some reason this really drunk guy in the row in front of us started getting really angry at the referees and complaining about Cornell rigging things because they were the best team. But Harvard was second best, that is, at hockey, and pretty much had everything else in the world, so I didn't understand his anger. And he apparently didn't go to either school. Eventually Harvard scored a goal and this crazy man started screaming at and taunting this old man in his 80s who could barely move. Someone had walked him there, and he was wearing all this old-time paraphernalia to see his Alma mater play a game. He was harmless. He looked like my grandpa, although I don't think my grandfather cared much for hockey games or who won them. But this fan of whatever apparently did, and Brad, who was closest, leaned over and told him to stop. The guy accused Brad of going to Cornell, and stated that he didn't go to either. He went to RPI, and Brad said he was ashamed that he went to the same school while the guy hollered and went "woo". Then it happened again almost instantly when Harvard scored another goal, and this guy went all out screaming in the old man's ears, but this time Brad immediately leaned over the row ahead of us and told him to stop, and put his arm on the guy. The guy freaked out and screamed, "Do NOT touch me!"
That's when Dan stood up.
It was all over then. Dan told the guy to sit down and leave everyone alone, and then when the guy started complaining about being touched, Dan yelled, "What are YOU going to do about it?" over and over again, even though this guy was there with three other friends. Dan is big, but this one guy, who unfortunately was closest to me, was twice as big. Eventually the guy sat down, and everyone in the section was with us on this one, so security eventually came and got the guy out of there. Then they came for his friends. The big one stood up and just pointed at Dan, but Dan wasn't fazed. A few minutes later security came back and pointed at me, and I said, "What?" And they said, "the red-headed guy," and I was so mad because I hated being categorized as a redhead since I was kind of blond too. I just didn't like the name. Everyone in our section was sticking up for us, but apparently the friends had complained about the "red-headed guy." So all three of us went, and we explained what happened, while the drunk guy was on the floor hand-cuffed. They asked Brad if he wanted to press charges, and he said he wanted to have nothing more to do with any of this. We went back to the game, which Cornell won in overtime.
I knew from the beginning that Dan and I were going to be good friends someday. I remember seeing him my first night exploring Cambridge Central School, a week before class started in my new town. He was standing on his chair in the front of row of the auditorium and looking back excitedly at everyone, so you couldn't help but notice him. I remember thinking, "I don't know anyone, but he seems like a nice guy."
It was a small school, so I eventually knew everybody, but I met Dan quickly because he sat in front of me in math class. In 8th grade he played on the football and basketball teams, and he helped manage the basketball team in 9th grade. We also had science class together all four years and gym together most of those years, so we were science partners for pretty much most lab experiments, learning the wonders of the world together with geometric equipment and printed handouts to fill out with data and analysis.
Even though we hung out outside of school in groups for a long time, Dan and I didn't become really close friends until senior year, when we all started hanging out pretty much all the time now that we had cars. Dan came from a very different family. They didn't have much land and his parents were divorced, but he had three crazy brothers, a car, a thirst for thrills and a lot of great friends. His key was that he liked people and he liked doing things, and he was very brave.
Once in gym class there was this short punk guy who always talked his mouth off. I never had a direct problem with him, but we did compete for playing time. He eventually got cut from JV, but we still all played together in gym. He was always picking on Dan to try to impress the guys he thought were cool, and one day he threw a ball at Dan as hard as he could from very close. So Dan just grabbed him like Andre the Giant and tossed him into the bleachers. That said it all. Nobody ever gave Dan a problem after that. Not even that huge guy at the hockey game had the guts to do anything besides point at him.
We always picked on Dan for being an immigrant, technically, as he was born in Ireland but his dad was American and they went right back to America. But guys have to pick on each other for something, every one of us.
At the end of my first month in New York City, Dan came down to help our friend move back home, because Dan's awesome like that. We were relaxing by this pond in Central Park when he revealed to us that he was going to be a father, and that he was going to marry his girlfriend in October. He had been planning to propose that summer anyway, but now things were going a little faster. I remember him stepping off to the side and having a very important conversation with his own father for the first time. I was entering a very different path.
A few years later I was at the Cliffs of Moher, thinking about the journey behind and the journey to come, and about how it was my great friend Dan's birthday. He actually had left Ireland to go to America, and I was about to do the same in a very different way. I realized we both had blood branching back to this island with green clovers, leprechauns and rainbows with pots of gold.
Now I teach immigrants every day. I do my best to live the most important lesson for anything in life, and especially teaching. Dan reminded me of it when I announced on Facebook that I was going to start writing a book back in December. He said, "Just remember, it's got to be fun!"
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When I was in China, I had to stay in Chengdu for two weeks while I waited for a visa approval to stay in the country. I stayed in this hostel called Mix Hostel, and for about two weeks I met whoever came through. A few of them were these southern missionaries I'd already met in Tiger Leaping Gorge, others were European, and some were Chinese. Then, of course, there were all of the Chinese staff and millions of people who filled the streets of this city whose claim to fame is that Kung Fu Panda is based near there.
One man who stayed with me was this elderly Irishman who must have been in his 60s. He was tall and slender and had small glasses. My grandfather was a little shorter, but I remember that look of the old man with glasses. He was staying in the hostel in the dorm room with me and other people, and had just had an amazing journey from west of China all the way across Tibet to Sichuan. He seemed to be in a very relaxed yet eager state of contentment. There were several other older people who stayed in the hostel while I was there, and I mostly saw him talking with them. I talked with him a little, and even though we didn't get too specific, I remember getting the impression that he had already lived a lot of the life experiences that I couldn't possibly know about yet, such as marriage, maybe even children, and then going off on his own to see the world. I think he may have even mentioned a grown up daughter. Whatever he was doing, he was happy about it, and he'd just been somewhere I didn't realize travelers went to. In fact, according to him, few did.
He was a friendly man, and even though we'd only been talking for a few minutes from across our bunks before sleep, he gave me this book by W.B. Yeats. He' wa an Irish writer who was obsessed with the stories of mysteries, dreams and fairies in Ireland. Always trust the magic, wherever it takes you. Something like that:
"...the desire, which every artist feels, to create for himself a little world out of the beautiful, pleasant, and significant things of this marred and muddy universe...
Eventually the man moved on and I got my visa. A few days later I climbed the highest holy Buddhist mountain in China, and stayed in monasteries on the way. That's where I read the above quote. Most of the book didn't make much sense to me, but I loved his spirit, his message and those words which explained everything I'd ever done since day one.
Even better, I'll always remember that Irishman, who may save me from having a small demographic appeal. The message of travel and adventure isn't just for young wild twenty-something's who get off on thrills, romance or adventurous ambitions. It's for anyone with a heart that pumps blood through their body, a little bit of sense to move with the best the world has to offer them, and most of all, a curiosity about that same world
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A year ago I was in North Dakota, probably listening to Ennio Morricone's dramatic overtures to the wild western lifestyle, racing down the interstate at about 80 mph to keep up with the one lane traffic for the five hour ride due south to South Dakota.
I'd just spent two days alone in the north unit of Teddy Roosevelt National Park, although not completely alone. After hiking into beautiful peaceful secluded nature for five miles and finding a spot to camp, I woke up in my underwear at 5 am on another hot June morning when I saw two men with badges approaching me. They asked me immediately if anyone had had a heart attack. I said, "Not yet..." They said they had gotten a call from within the park and they had triangulated it to this area, although sometimes the calls bounce off the walls and it's not actually in the park. Then they said, "Second, sorry to have to mention this, but no one's supposed to be able to see you from the trail," and they pointed to this ranger way high up the hill, higher than I had been, and he signaled or something. The guy said it was crazy that I had to move, especially since he was really glad they were able to see me so he could do his job. If I had been out of sight, they wouldn't have found me. Crazy. I had to move to a ditch and be out of site from the hikers who never walked by because barely anyone was visiting that section of the park, let alone camping. The silence was boring after a day, and it was pretty cloudy during my full day in solitude, so I was happy to be back on the road.
The winds were completely insane, as they were blowing direct from west to east more fiercely than anything I'd ever experienced, and my canoe was doing everything it could to stay in place. No matter how many times I pulled over to retie everything, it would violently shift several feet in front of me, as it extended over the windshield, and suddenly shift the car a little to the left. What's more it was two-way traffic on a 70 mph road which blazed through a wide open field of nothingness, with slight hills and variations in elevation, just enough to build up speed for that next of a seemingly infinite infantry of tractor trailers flying by you. When you're on the interstate you have several lanes and plenty of space between you and any fast moving enormous vehicles coming your way. But here we were right next to each other, still flying by. I barely made it to the beautiful Badlands in South Dakota before sunset, although they should be named something opposite, like Great Lands, or Moon Lands, or Completely Unique Lands.
I set up my tent at dusk and a bison ran by me, about ten feet away, through the camp area. My tent blew down in the middle of the night because I didn't stake it (I've never been one for staking down), so I crawled into the driver's seat once again at 3 am. The next day I woke up, met some adventurous photographers from Colorado, and went on several days of adventures with them. Life on the road can be lonely, but it can also bring you magic through fellow journeyers through beauty, some of whom you never expected you would meet.
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Today was sunny. I went to work and was handed four forms to move my four most intelligent students to the next level, thus leaving my class. I knew their scores and their initial reactions hoping they wouldn't have to advance just yet, but it seemed like the school wanted them to move up. They have a choice though, and can talk to the man who deals with those sorts of things. Three of them were here today, and all of them want to stay in the class, which makes me happy. I appreciate and learn from all of my students, but you always love the ones who sit up front and get enthusiastic about what's going on because they want to learn and improve too.
One of my students had a great day today. Last week he presented on gay marriage and how the Supreme Court would soon be deciding the destiny of California couples. When he walked in today everyone asked if he was happy, and he said he's always happy, but he might be happier today. It took us a while to realize he didn't know the news yet, and I got to be the first one to tell him, which was great and fun and heart-warming. It was also strange, because he's always talking about wanting to marry his boyfriend, but he's also going on and on about their relationship during class time sometimes. I'm happy he's got someone he wants to marry, and he should be able to. But it sounds like he's pretty happy anyway. Benefits are nice, but isn't being with each other what's most important? Having fun?
I guess that's just my single point of view. I'm just doing my thing and take the idea of being able to marry for granted, or having kids for that matter. I've definitely fought against the idea of such a commitment from time to time after seeing how much your life can change so quickly based on that major lifelong responsibility. That hasn't stopped me from falling head over heels time and again, but I do not want kids until I can support them and teach them the best way I know how, and I can do it with someone who's about that. And if I'm with someone who isn't about that, it's more important for me to be with someone I love being with than out of any need to continue the seed. Whatever happens will happen.
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After work I walked down Mission to an auto parts store with a four-leafed clover on it, and bought this compressor to pump up my flat tire. I pumped up the tire, brought it back to the tire store to have it repaired, and then walked back home again. Lots of exercise today.
Then I opened my journal from my first journey and saw that it was my friend Dan's birthday today. I already knew that, but it hit home from a whole new level when I saw that three years ago today I was on the Emerald Isle riding through the green hills and moderate cloudy/sun shine weather. I also saw the Cliffs of Moher, where you can look out over the ocean to America and envision just what it is that's so great that's happening in that place that mixes and combines all of the life from everywhere else, just to see and be what happens.
Then I went back to my hostel in Cork, where my mother's father's family was from. That is, until the potatoes stopped growing. But that's another story I don't know much about. I did meet this French nomad who was 31 and had been wandering since he was my age, with very disciplined joyful spiritual intentions and practices. He'd lived in Gabon for a while and many parts of Europe and India, and we had a lot to share. Then we were joined by this other younger French guy, who was away from home on his own for the first time. His family wanted him to be a lawyer, but he wanted to be a clown and poet and dance with his girlfriend with an umbrella in the streets. Luckily he was able to go to law school for something like a dollar a year so he has the credit but doesn't lose anything if he doesn't use it. Whatever he ended up doing, he made that one journey to a foreign country he'd always wanted to see and met people and talked about the poetry and humor of life with people from other strange lands and experiences, and I'm sure he made something excellent out of that.
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In high school I asked out this girl who I was friends with, and I'd waited too long and she was in love with this guy who was friends with my sister, although he turned out to be gay. Then I got cheered up by my friend Brad over our first Clint Eastwood movie, The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly. I gave him a ride home afterward, and then on the way back I swerved to miss two deer and instead hit a telephone pole and totaled the car. The pole snapped off and barely missed the car. I was listening to Led Zeppelin. Dan loves Led Zeppelin. Both Dan's I know love Led Zeppelin.
Anyway, that's how "Sundays With Clint" started. Every Sunday we watched a new Clint Eastwood movie, whether it was five of us, four of us, three of us or two of us. One afternoon in November Dan and I had just picked up Pale Rider and turned onto my road. We drove by Bailey's Christmas Trees at the head of the road, which also happens to be where I was working summers and the weeks around Christmas when we sold them. I sheared and shaped and fertilized them a few mornings a week during the summers before and after my senior year with a great man who used to be a math teacher and the Justice of the Peace. We had great conversations, and I loved working for him. It had been dry for a while, and when we drove by the field we noticed some small flames. We pulled over and investigated and it turned out there was a small fire about thirty feet long slowly spreading through the dried grass in a row of trees. So Dan and I stomped it out very quickly, called the fire department, and then got out of there when they confirmed everything was fine. Then we watched Clint Eastwood show them how it's done.
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Once I was really freaked out about life, and I didn't know who to call, so I called Dan, because I knew that he would be fun and tough and positive about whatever it was I brought to the table. And he was, and I was fine, and we hadn't talked to each other in a long time, and it was great.
I trusted Dan to give me confidence in my journey at a time when I could have called anybody because he was already supporting a family, so I knew he would be strong enough to listen to me, no matter how crazy my imagination seemed to be, and encourage me based on what he learns from reality. Also, I know he likes to have fun, because he's an Irishman, and I knew he wouldn't judge me for any shenanigans I'd gotten myself into. He just had to remind me that I always got out of them too.
Dan's now got his family, and I now have a car and some possessions and hopes to see friends, family and start some kind of family with whoever it may be. What I have now helps me to connect to and learn from the world around me, and I am lucky to have a job to help me get by and feed myself in a place to be. I have dreams of greater connections through greater poetry, magic and mystery, and most importantly, of having lots of fun, whether I'm with a family and living a life that appears to be completely free. But everything is a trade-off.
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Once I was at this bluegrass bar on 3rd street, just a block past the Blue Note Jazz Club. It used to be the Baggot Inn, but now it's different. They used to have a free-for-all bluegrass night and usually play that song, Wagon Wheel. I was with some friends, and we met people at another table. We got to life situations. I was only 23, but I was telling them how a lot of my friends were either getting married or having kids, and how that seemed strange to me, although I'm sure it was much stranger for them. But this woman told me something very interesting, "It seems like you are on different paths now, but they're still living it, and you might go through it later, and when that happens, they'll be there to give you helpful tips on how to deal with it."
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I know three men named Dan. One of them was my professor at Cornell, the head of the English department and probably the most educated man I know. He's also the most successful person I know in my field who has told me I have a shot. He's dead now.
One is my cousin, who I have known forever, and is always there at the milestones to spread the vigor. He just got married, and he works very hard. He always finds a way to spread the excitement. That's his job.
One always does and has always done the duty he knows he has to fulfill: to make whoever he's around have lots of fun with him. For a long time he has supported his own family, whether it's dealing with delinquent kids who need an authoritative figure to discipline them, hard outdoor labor, or counseling delinquent kids to make better life choices, his newest job. He uses the money he earns to support a home and his wife, who also supports the family as a nurse. And their two beautiful energetic laughing loving children are the joy of all of his friends, who are many. They are all very happy that Dan made the long journey all the way from Ireland to make all of our lives more fun and protect us from danger too. He has plenty of gadgets and toys and interests and activities and thrills to keep him loving life. He jumped out of a plane once and said it was the greatest feeling ever. I wonder if I'll ever do that. Maybe he did it for me. Maybe he did it for you.
When I think of Dan, I think of him cruising down country roads with his bass bumping along to either Led Zeppelin, the theme song from The Good, the Bad and the Ugly, or the dramatic Ecstasy of Gold. As I've said before, Dan is one of my many heroes because he has a heart of gold, and that's all that matters.
Once we were at this hockey game in Albany, and Dan saved our necks. Cornell was playing Harvard for the championship. I went to Cornell because most of my family went there, and Brad went to RPI in Troy, so he didn't have far to travel. Dan was there because he loves sports and hanging with his friends. Also, many of us played hockey on our pond every winter, and despite all the tumbles to the ice and pucks to the shin, Dan loved every minute of it. Anyway, they had just disallowed two straight Harvard goals, and for some reason this really drunk guy in the row in front of us started getting really angry at the referees and complaining about Cornell rigging things because they were the best team. But Harvard was second best, that is, at hockey, and pretty much had everything else in the world, so I didn't understand his anger. And he apparently didn't go to either school. Eventually Harvard scored a goal and this crazy man started screaming at and taunting this old man in his 80s who could barely move. Someone had walked him there, and he was wearing all this old-time paraphernalia to see his Alma mater play a game. He was harmless. He looked like my grandpa, although I don't think my grandfather cared much for hockey games or who won them. But this fan of whatever apparently did, and Brad, who was closest, leaned over and told him to stop. The guy accused Brad of going to Cornell, and stated that he didn't go to either. He went to RPI, and Brad said he was ashamed that he went to the same school while the guy hollered and went "woo". Then it happened again almost instantly when Harvard scored another goal, and this guy went all out screaming in the old man's ears, but this time Brad immediately leaned over the row ahead of us and told him to stop, and put his arm on the guy. The guy freaked out and screamed, "Do NOT touch me!"
That's when Dan stood up.
It was all over then. Dan told the guy to sit down and leave everyone alone, and then when the guy started complaining about being touched, Dan yelled, "What are YOU going to do about it?" over and over again, even though this guy was there with three other friends. Dan is big, but this one guy, who unfortunately was closest to me, was twice as big. Eventually the guy sat down, and everyone in the section was with us on this one, so security eventually came and got the guy out of there. Then they came for his friends. The big one stood up and just pointed at Dan, but Dan wasn't fazed. A few minutes later security came back and pointed at me, and I said, "What?" And they said, "the red-headed guy," and I was so mad because I hated being categorized as a redhead since I was kind of blond too. I just didn't like the name. Everyone in our section was sticking up for us, but apparently the friends had complained about the "red-headed guy." So all three of us went, and we explained what happened, while the drunk guy was on the floor hand-cuffed. They asked Brad if he wanted to press charges, and he said he wanted to have nothing more to do with any of this. We went back to the game, which Cornell won in overtime.
I knew from the beginning that Dan and I were going to be good friends someday. I remember seeing him my first night exploring Cambridge Central School, a week before class started in my new town. He was standing on his chair in the front of row of the auditorium and looking back excitedly at everyone, so you couldn't help but notice him. I remember thinking, "I don't know anyone, but he seems like a nice guy."
It was a small school, so I eventually knew everybody, but I met Dan quickly because he sat in front of me in math class. In 8th grade he played on the football and basketball teams, and he helped manage the basketball team in 9th grade. We also had science class together all four years and gym together most of those years, so we were science partners for pretty much most lab experiments, learning the wonders of the world together with geometric equipment and printed handouts to fill out with data and analysis.
Even though we hung out outside of school in groups for a long time, Dan and I didn't become really close friends until senior year, when we all started hanging out pretty much all the time now that we had cars. Dan came from a very different family. They didn't have much land and his parents were divorced, but he had three crazy brothers, a car, a thirst for thrills and a lot of great friends. His key was that he liked people and he liked doing things, and he was very brave.
Once in gym class there was this short punk guy who always talked his mouth off. I never had a direct problem with him, but we did compete for playing time. He eventually got cut from JV, but we still all played together in gym. He was always picking on Dan to try to impress the guys he thought were cool, and one day he threw a ball at Dan as hard as he could from very close. So Dan just grabbed him like Andre the Giant and tossed him into the bleachers. That said it all. Nobody ever gave Dan a problem after that. Not even that huge guy at the hockey game had the guts to do anything besides point at him.
We always picked on Dan for being an immigrant, technically, as he was born in Ireland but his dad was American and they went right back to America. But guys have to pick on each other for something, every one of us.
At the end of my first month in New York City, Dan came down to help our friend move back home, because Dan's awesome like that. We were relaxing by this pond in Central Park when he revealed to us that he was going to be a father, and that he was going to marry his girlfriend in October. He had been planning to propose that summer anyway, but now things were going a little faster. I remember him stepping off to the side and having a very important conversation with his own father for the first time. I was entering a very different path.
A few years later I was at the Cliffs of Moher, thinking about the journey behind and the journey to come, and about how it was my great friend Dan's birthday. He actually had left Ireland to go to America, and I was about to do the same in a very different way. I realized we both had blood branching back to this island with green clovers, leprechauns and rainbows with pots of gold.
Now I teach immigrants every day. I do my best to live the most important lesson for anything in life, and especially teaching. Dan reminded me of it when I announced on Facebook that I was going to start writing a book back in December. He said, "Just remember, it's got to be fun!"
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When I was in China, I had to stay in Chengdu for two weeks while I waited for a visa approval to stay in the country. I stayed in this hostel called Mix Hostel, and for about two weeks I met whoever came through. A few of them were these southern missionaries I'd already met in Tiger Leaping Gorge, others were European, and some were Chinese. Then, of course, there were all of the Chinese staff and millions of people who filled the streets of this city whose claim to fame is that Kung Fu Panda is based near there.
One man who stayed with me was this elderly Irishman who must have been in his 60s. He was tall and slender and had small glasses. My grandfather was a little shorter, but I remember that look of the old man with glasses. He was staying in the hostel in the dorm room with me and other people, and had just had an amazing journey from west of China all the way across Tibet to Sichuan. He seemed to be in a very relaxed yet eager state of contentment. There were several other older people who stayed in the hostel while I was there, and I mostly saw him talking with them. I talked with him a little, and even though we didn't get too specific, I remember getting the impression that he had already lived a lot of the life experiences that I couldn't possibly know about yet, such as marriage, maybe even children, and then going off on his own to see the world. I think he may have even mentioned a grown up daughter. Whatever he was doing, he was happy about it, and he'd just been somewhere I didn't realize travelers went to. In fact, according to him, few did.
He was a friendly man, and even though we'd only been talking for a few minutes from across our bunks before sleep, he gave me this book by W.B. Yeats. He' wa an Irish writer who was obsessed with the stories of mysteries, dreams and fairies in Ireland. Always trust the magic, wherever it takes you. Something like that:
"...the desire, which every artist feels, to create for himself a little world out of the beautiful, pleasant, and significant things of this marred and muddy universe...
Eventually the man moved on and I got my visa. A few days later I climbed the highest holy Buddhist mountain in China, and stayed in monasteries on the way. That's where I read the above quote. Most of the book didn't make much sense to me, but I loved his spirit, his message and those words which explained everything I'd ever done since day one.
Even better, I'll always remember that Irishman, who may save me from having a small demographic appeal. The message of travel and adventure isn't just for young wild twenty-something's who get off on thrills, romance or adventurous ambitions. It's for anyone with a heart that pumps blood through their body, a little bit of sense to move with the best the world has to offer them, and most of all, a curiosity about that same world
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A year ago I was in North Dakota, probably listening to Ennio Morricone's dramatic overtures to the wild western lifestyle, racing down the interstate at about 80 mph to keep up with the one lane traffic for the five hour ride due south to South Dakota.
I'd just spent two days alone in the north unit of Teddy Roosevelt National Park, although not completely alone. After hiking into beautiful peaceful secluded nature for five miles and finding a spot to camp, I woke up in my underwear at 5 am on another hot June morning when I saw two men with badges approaching me. They asked me immediately if anyone had had a heart attack. I said, "Not yet..." They said they had gotten a call from within the park and they had triangulated it to this area, although sometimes the calls bounce off the walls and it's not actually in the park. Then they said, "Second, sorry to have to mention this, but no one's supposed to be able to see you from the trail," and they pointed to this ranger way high up the hill, higher than I had been, and he signaled or something. The guy said it was crazy that I had to move, especially since he was really glad they were able to see me so he could do his job. If I had been out of sight, they wouldn't have found me. Crazy. I had to move to a ditch and be out of site from the hikers who never walked by because barely anyone was visiting that section of the park, let alone camping. The silence was boring after a day, and it was pretty cloudy during my full day in solitude, so I was happy to be back on the road.
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Today was sunny. I went to work and was handed four forms to move my four most intelligent students to the next level, thus leaving my class. I knew their scores and their initial reactions hoping they wouldn't have to advance just yet, but it seemed like the school wanted them to move up. They have a choice though, and can talk to the man who deals with those sorts of things. Three of them were here today, and all of them want to stay in the class, which makes me happy. I appreciate and learn from all of my students, but you always love the ones who sit up front and get enthusiastic about what's going on because they want to learn and improve too.
One of my students had a great day today. Last week he presented on gay marriage and how the Supreme Court would soon be deciding the destiny of California couples. When he walked in today everyone asked if he was happy, and he said he's always happy, but he might be happier today. It took us a while to realize he didn't know the news yet, and I got to be the first one to tell him, which was great and fun and heart-warming. It was also strange, because he's always talking about wanting to marry his boyfriend, but he's also going on and on about their relationship during class time sometimes. I'm happy he's got someone he wants to marry, and he should be able to. But it sounds like he's pretty happy anyway. Benefits are nice, but isn't being with each other what's most important? Having fun?
I guess that's just my single point of view. I'm just doing my thing and take the idea of being able to marry for granted, or having kids for that matter. I've definitely fought against the idea of such a commitment from time to time after seeing how much your life can change so quickly based on that major lifelong responsibility. That hasn't stopped me from falling head over heels time and again, but I do not want kids until I can support them and teach them the best way I know how, and I can do it with someone who's about that. And if I'm with someone who isn't about that, it's more important for me to be with someone I love being with than out of any need to continue the seed. Whatever happens will happen.
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After work I walked down Mission to an auto parts store with a four-leafed clover on it, and bought this compressor to pump up my flat tire. I pumped up the tire, brought it back to the tire store to have it repaired, and then walked back home again. Lots of exercise today.
Then I opened my journal from my first journey and saw that it was my friend Dan's birthday today. I already knew that, but it hit home from a whole new level when I saw that three years ago today I was on the Emerald Isle riding through the green hills and moderate cloudy/sun shine weather. I also saw the Cliffs of Moher, where you can look out over the ocean to America and envision just what it is that's so great that's happening in that place that mixes and combines all of the life from everywhere else, just to see and be what happens.
Then I went back to my hostel in Cork, where my mother's father's family was from. That is, until the potatoes stopped growing. But that's another story I don't know much about. I did meet this French nomad who was 31 and had been wandering since he was my age, with very disciplined joyful spiritual intentions and practices. He'd lived in Gabon for a while and many parts of Europe and India, and we had a lot to share. Then we were joined by this other younger French guy, who was away from home on his own for the first time. His family wanted him to be a lawyer, but he wanted to be a clown and poet and dance with his girlfriend with an umbrella in the streets. Luckily he was able to go to law school for something like a dollar a year so he has the credit but doesn't lose anything if he doesn't use it. Whatever he ended up doing, he made that one journey to a foreign country he'd always wanted to see and met people and talked about the poetry and humor of life with people from other strange lands and experiences, and I'm sure he made something excellent out of that.
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In high school I asked out this girl who I was friends with, and I'd waited too long and she was in love with this guy who was friends with my sister, although he turned out to be gay. Then I got cheered up by my friend Brad over our first Clint Eastwood movie, The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly. I gave him a ride home afterward, and then on the way back I swerved to miss two deer and instead hit a telephone pole and totaled the car. The pole snapped off and barely missed the car. I was listening to Led Zeppelin. Dan loves Led Zeppelin. Both Dan's I know love Led Zeppelin.
Anyway, that's how "Sundays With Clint" started. Every Sunday we watched a new Clint Eastwood movie, whether it was five of us, four of us, three of us or two of us. One afternoon in November Dan and I had just picked up Pale Rider and turned onto my road. We drove by Bailey's Christmas Trees at the head of the road, which also happens to be where I was working summers and the weeks around Christmas when we sold them. I sheared and shaped and fertilized them a few mornings a week during the summers before and after my senior year with a great man who used to be a math teacher and the Justice of the Peace. We had great conversations, and I loved working for him. It had been dry for a while, and when we drove by the field we noticed some small flames. We pulled over and investigated and it turned out there was a small fire about thirty feet long slowly spreading through the dried grass in a row of trees. So Dan and I stomped it out very quickly, called the fire department, and then got out of there when they confirmed everything was fine. Then we watched Clint Eastwood show them how it's done.
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Once I was really freaked out about life, and I didn't know who to call, so I called Dan, because I knew that he would be fun and tough and positive about whatever it was I brought to the table. And he was, and I was fine, and we hadn't talked to each other in a long time, and it was great.
I trusted Dan to give me confidence in my journey at a time when I could have called anybody because he was already supporting a family, so I knew he would be strong enough to listen to me, no matter how crazy my imagination seemed to be, and encourage me based on what he learns from reality. Also, I know he likes to have fun, because he's an Irishman, and I knew he wouldn't judge me for any shenanigans I'd gotten myself into. He just had to remind me that I always got out of them too.
Dan's now got his family, and I now have a car and some possessions and hopes to see friends, family and start some kind of family with whoever it may be. What I have now helps me to connect to and learn from the world around me, and I am lucky to have a job to help me get by and feed myself in a place to be. I have dreams of greater connections through greater poetry, magic and mystery, and most importantly, of having lots of fun, whether I'm with a family and living a life that appears to be completely free. But everything is a trade-off.
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Once I was at this bluegrass bar on 3rd street, just a block past the Blue Note Jazz Club. It used to be the Baggot Inn, but now it's different. They used to have a free-for-all bluegrass night and usually play that song, Wagon Wheel. I was with some friends, and we met people at another table. We got to life situations. I was only 23, but I was telling them how a lot of my friends were either getting married or having kids, and how that seemed strange to me, although I'm sure it was much stranger for them. But this woman told me something very interesting, "It seems like you are on different paths now, but they're still living it, and you might go through it later, and when that happens, they'll be there to give you helpful tips on how to deal with it."
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I know three men named Dan. One of them was my professor at Cornell, the head of the English department and probably the most educated man I know. He's also the most successful person I know in my field who has told me I have a shot. He's dead now.
One is my cousin, who I have known forever, and is always there at the milestones to spread the vigor. He just got married, and he works very hard. He always finds a way to spread the excitement. That's his job.
One always does and has always done the duty he knows he has to fulfill: to make whoever he's around have lots of fun with him. For a long time he has supported his own family, whether it's dealing with delinquent kids who need an authoritative figure to discipline them, hard outdoor labor, or counseling delinquent kids to make better life choices, his newest job. He uses the money he earns to support a home and his wife, who also supports the family as a nurse. And their two beautiful energetic laughing loving children are the joy of all of his friends, who are many. They are all very happy that Dan made the long journey all the way from Ireland to make all of our lives more fun and protect us from danger too. He has plenty of gadgets and toys and interests and activities and thrills to keep him loving life. He jumped out of a plane once and said it was the greatest feeling ever. I wonder if I'll ever do that. Maybe he did it for me. Maybe he did it for you.
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