The Journey Chapter 68: Old and New Friends Feed My Soul

THINKING OF MY BUDDY FRANK

I might have mentioned this earlier; if so, remember that I’m seventy-five and chalk it up to that.

I really can only think of one person in my life, now or in the past, we’re talking about close friends or relatives, who would have totally understood my need to be footloose and fancy free, and that person was my bestie, Frank, who has been dead now for four years, Good God I miss him.

Okay, two. Bev gets it.

Frank would have been in complete agreement with my actions.  He wouldn’t have doubted my sanity, he wouldn’t have offered advice, he would have simply supported me and done everything in his ability to help me.

Great friends are like that, and he was a great friend.  We had a “no questions asked” friendship.  On several occasions, when he was out of work, he would come and live with me, or me and my roommate, a couple times for close to six months, unable to pay rent, paying for food with food stamps, no car, the bottom line is he needed me and I was there, just like he was always there when I needed him.

That is how I was raised, what I was taught by my parents, and what I’ve always believed.  You help friends when they need it, period, end of story. Friendship does not come with a qualifier. It does not come with a time stamp.

I was asked once if that isn’t a bit risky, the inherent danger being that it will only be one-sided, that you may help someone whenever, but they fail to be there for you, and the answer, of course, is yes, there is always that possibility. I’ve been hurt by friends before. I have been disappointed by them.  But I don’t consider any of it a risk, no more than love is a risk.

You take your best shot, do your best to be a good person, and let others worry about their own behavior.

Anyway, Frank would have totally understood. Hell, he basically lived my current life for decades. He didn’t own a house until he was forty-five.  Barely had any possessions most of his adult life. Traveled around, never laid down roots, the proverbial rolling stone in human form.

I really do miss him.  He owed me about six-hundred favors. I could use a favor right about now, but the damned guy isn’t available to pay up.  LOL

SOME HEAVY CONTEMPLATIONS DURING A BREAK

I’m back in Olympia, October 20^th, for four days; then this traveling circus will hit the road for Eastern Washington and the dry beauty of an almost desert.

Wanna know what I miss most about living in a bus? The access to a hot shower daily!  This last stretch in Ocean Shores had me going five days without a shower, and let me tell ya, sponge baths don’t do it for this old man.

There are solutions to this dilemma. I just don’t know if I want to spend the money on those solutions at this time, especially with winter coming, because no matter what my solution is, it means an outdoor shower.

So, I was “talking” to a friend the other day, online and thus the air quotations, and she was lamenting the Israel-Hamas conflict. I dropped by the coffee stand, and the barista wanted to know what I thought about some gang-related killing which happened in Detroit and totaled five dead?  Into the grocery store, that same day, and people were discussing crooked politicians in aisle 5, and the latest statistics on the sex trade in Aberdeen, eighteen miles down the road, was the topic in aisle 7.

And I get it, honest to God, I understand their angst, and I’m sure their hearts are in the right place, and I’m so relieved that a number of people actually give a damn about those topics . . .

Let me take you back to 1968.

Israel had just wrapped up the 6-Day War, and tensions were bubbling over with the Palestine situation.  Gang killings? Check! Crooked politicians? Anyone hear of Nixon? Sex trade and trafficking? Check! And all of that was just the tip of the iceberg in 1968, a truly horrific year in U.S. history (two political assassinations rocked this country), followed by an even more horrific one in 1969.

Old age gives you, if you are paying attention at all, perspective, and shame on any of you if you are whispering under your breath right now that damn, Bill, you can’t just ignore it and pretend it’s not important, because that’s not my point and you bet your ass I care.

But nothing changes if nothing changes, and you can quote me on that.

Nothing changes if nothing changes. Catchy little phrase, and I dare you to find fault in it at all.

I have run out of emotional currency, all of it spent on caring about important issues which have continued, unabated, for fifty-five years.  Let me give you an insight into the future: there will aways be an Israeli conflict; there will always be crooked politicians; there will always be sex trafficking and race problems and . . . and . . . and . . .

And don’t you dare accuse me of standing on a soapbox and not doing a thing. I was in the urban trenches in 1968.  A couple years later, I was volunteering in some of the poorest areas in this country. I have marched in more protests than I can remember, worked in political campaigns, voted like a good, caring citizen, and to the naked eye, not one damned thing has changed.

So now, I take my campaign to the open road. I make a difference one person at a time; at least that feels quantifiable and allows me to sleep at night not ripped to shreds with angst.

Do I care about the Israelis? Of course, I do, but I also care about the millions of slaughtered in African nations where ethnic cleansing is a reality and not a debate topic. I also care about the elimination of entire species of animals. I care about the existential threat, and reality, of global warming. I care about the disintegration of the family unit in this country, and how chasing the American Dream has turned into a nightmare for, literally, millions of Americans. I care about a generation of Americans who have never seen good parenting modeled, and who believe video games are worthy of emulation, who are desensitized regarding violence, and who have lost their moral compass.

I care about all of those things, but I can only do what I can only do.

Anyway, nothing changes if nothing changes.

And that’s a fact, Jack!

ANOTHER VISIT WITH MY NEW, TOTALLY WONDERFUL FRIEND

If you have been on this blog often you will remember me talking about my friend Tay, the young woman who painted a slogan on my bus.  You may recall how impressed I was by her, how it felt like an important bond had formed between us, two kindred spirits somehow finding each other.

So, she stopped by for a walk and a talk yesterday afternoon, and it simply reinforced what I already thought about her. She really is a remarkable person, and I hope we remain, in touch and wonderful friends, for many years to come.

She feels. She emotes.  She observes and finds marvel in the smallest of things.  At the ripe old age of thirty she is making an attempt, ongoing, to understand herself and to make changes she deems necessary.  She doesn’t give a hoot about materialism.  She is creative. She is intuitive, and to sit down with her, and have a conversation, is as refreshing as a summer shower after a heatwave.

I feel like I’ve known her for decades, and I feel safe with her, and believe me that is a huge statement for me to make.

What’s the point of all this? I have none, other than I am very grateful to have Tay in my life.  Tay, if you are reading this, you have touched me and I thank you for it.