"At first this difference seemed fairly minor but then it grew..and grew...and grew...until I began to see why I missed it. Some things you miss because they're so tiny you overlook them. But some things you don't see because they're so huge.We were both looking at the same thing, seeing the same thing, talking about the same thing, thinking about the same thing, except that he was looking,seeing, talking and thinking from a completely different dimension." Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, Robert Pirsig, p.48.
My wife and I weren't even on the same trip. We flew in the same plane. We rode in the same car. We slept in the same bed. We ate in the same restaurants, but we weren't together. Something had to give. All of my constant angst was not only destroying our vacation that we had so looked forward to taking together, but it was harming our relationship as well. This combined birthday and anniversary trip was meant to be a trip of a lifetime together. Instead it was a moving disaster. My biggest problem was everything. Her biggest problem was me. Except for me, she was having the time of her life.
We finally found the restaurant. The reason we had driven by it several times, although the GPS said "You have arrived at your destination", was that the destination looked to be an old abandoned filling station. Go figure. It wasn't easy, but we found a place to park. We waited outside for a table and then they brought us in. If we had enjoyed our dinner the previous evening, we enjoyed this place and this food even more. Many times when couples fight, even after they make up, the bad feelings of the argument can linger for hours or even days. In this case, as in the night before, my wife gave me a free pass. She completely let me off the hook. Unlike many spouses in her situation, she didn't make me pay for my sins. "For better or for worse." It was without a doubt the most unique breakfast restaurant we had ever been in and the food was divine. We enjoyed the place, the moment and each other's company. We talked about it and decided to make a go of the trip. I told her that I couldn't promise to be ok, but that I would try.
The plan had been to rent a car at the airport, spend a night in Santa Rosa and then drive to Healdsburg. We would spend three days with our friends and return the car to downtown San Francisco. Finally we would explore San Francisco for three days with taxis and public transportation.We had thought that we had planned a trip to San Francisco and that while we were there we would visit these friends in Healdsburg. We never imagined that we had unknowingly planned a trip to be with these friends in Healdsburg and while we were there we would see some of the sights of San Francisco.
Regardless of what you "believe" about homosexuality, no matter what your preacher says the Bible says, or your stylist says her preacher says the Bible says, regardless of your reasons for being "against" or uncomfortable with homosexuality, if two wealthy gay men ever invite you to spend a few days in with them in their estate in the Sonoma Valley wine country, by all means say "Yes!"
It wasn't the very best thing about being with those two, but right up there with the best thing was the fact that I parked my minivan for two nights and three days. They did all the driving during the time we spent together. But in the back of my mind during the entire visit was, "You've got to drive back and find the Enterprise rental return during business hours in downtown San Francisco." I managed to push that thought to the back of my mind. But it was always there.
There is no way for me to describe what happened to me and for me in Healdsburg. One of these friends we had know for twenty five years. The other, his husband, we were meeting for the first time. Since they asked how the trip was going so far, I told them about the accident and what was going on with me. I told them that my wife was being as supportive as possible, but that I was wearing her out. And that I was completely worn out. Instead of being met with a blank stare of "Well it sounds like you really need to get it together.", what I found was the most profound acts of kindness and friendship that I had ever experienced in my life. The visit was so much more than the marvelous things that we all did together. We went on a tour of the wineries in Sonoma Valley. We found beauty, awe and solitude in a redwood forest. We spent that afternoon at Bodega Bay. How good was the food and wine? Let me count the ways. We had some of the best dining experiences of our lives. These delicious delights included a surprise birthday dinner for my wife at the Farmhouse Inn, a Michelin-starred restaurant near Healdsburg. They even had special "Happy Birthday" menus printed just for her. It was not just a marvelous dinner, it was a remarkable dining experience. And how do I describe the experience with the Santa Rosa Symphony? In the green room afterward, the conductor even asked my opinion of the avant- garde piece he had premiered. There was all that and more that our friends did for us. And with us. But there was something else going on that meant much more to me. I found a level of understanding and compassion that is precious and rare. Their empathy for my distress was both timely and effective. That afternoon before the concert they took me to a bookstore. My new friend who had been especially sympathetic to my plight, bought a book for me that had been of great help to him. He gave me Full Catastrophe Living, by Jon Kabbat Zinn. The title said it all.
Of everything I experienced in the Sonoma Valley, more than the sight-seeing, more than the food, more than the wine, the thing I remember most is the laughter. I had never laughed so much in my life. What they say about laughter must be true because I was being healed.
On our last night I had to fully stare in the face our early departure and the drive through San Francisco. It didn't help anything that the directions Enterprise had given us to the rental return were vague at best and my GPS had not been that accurate either. Our friend worked in San Francisco but had his own schedule and his own transportation. Well, to be precise, he had his own driver. Before we went to bed he said, "Would you rather I ride with you to San Francisco and help you find that rental? I can take a cab to work." I had never felt such relief in my life. In some ways I wish I had known about that option the whole time we were there, but on the other hand I had had some lessons to learn. It had been important for me to practice full catastrophe living and to live through my distress. I had enjoyed everything in the Sonoma Valley in spite of myself and my travel anxiety.
The next day our early morning drive and conversation was as pleasant as had been the rest of the time together. As we wound our way up and down the plateaued streets of downtown San Francisco, even my city-savvy friend had trouble finding the rental return. We made the block several times. I shuddered to consider what it would have been like without him. We went in the wrong rental and had to back out to keep from being captured by a gate. Backing into San Francisco traffic in a minivan was dicey, but I did it. We made the same block again. This time we found it. They had hidden themselves extremely well. We thanked our friend profusely and hugged him goodbye. He hailed his cab and we hailed ours. When we told the driver the address for our hotel he had a peculiar look on his face, but he put our luggage in his trunk. We got in the car. He made a right, another right and stopped in front of our hotel. We paid the fare, gave him a nice tip and checked in to our new residence.
The time in San Francisco was very enjoyable. It was all and more that we had hoped the fabled city to be. But if we had been about to fly home in utter frustration three days prior, we could have easily flown home the day we arrived in the city and have been completely satisfied with the trip. Sight-seeing in San Francisco was quite enjoyable, but it certainly wasn't the highlight of our anniversary trip. And instead of taking public transportation, we just walked everywhere. There was so much to see and so much good food to eat within walking distance and we certainly needed the exercise to walk off some of that rich food. We even walked to the skyscraper where our lifetime friend worked and were ushered to his office by a security guard. Then he joined us for lunch where much wine and laughter ensued.
The flight home the next day was pleasant and uneventful. "San Francisco" was in my rear-view mirror. Instead of looking like something that was about to crash into me, it looked like the sun fading into the west as I traveled east. The minivan was in the parking garage and I was headed home.
Just like crossing the Golden Gate Bridge, I have no choice but for full catastrophe living. The catastrophe is a fact of life. The full living is a constant choice. I learned that laughter and friendship is more effective than ICU. I learned that a loving spouse is eternally more valuable than an estate in California wine country. In so many ways nothing had changed and yet everything had changed "except", as Pirsig said, "that (I) was looking, seeing, talking and thinking from a completely different dimension." Now instead of collateral damage, there was collateral health. And there was great love. And there was great laughter.
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