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After struggling with sleep deprivation and its associated hallucinations causing random, erratic driving situations, my exhausted brain was tightly focused on the quickly fading gas gauge as it fast approached Empty. After forcing Sunday awake to keep me from killing us by plowing into the occasional head of cattle, she too was growing concerned.
God only knew how the delicate, volatile balance between tired friendship and uncontrollable rage would have tilted were to we have run out of gas at this point on our journey.
“Ten more miles!” Sunday exclaimed, spotting a sign showing the small town of Eureka possibly within our limited gas range. I unknowingly rung the steering wheel with my hands like a soaked wash cloth, my growing anxiousness getting the best of me.
Where, while crossing the Texas desert time seemed to adjust and slow from boredom, here, while riding on fumes as we approached the only gas station within a hundred miles, time seemed to almost stop from enveloping fear. My ears reacted in an almost bionic sense as I zoned into the variations in the hum of the engine. Was that a sputter? Did the engine slow slightly?
Every second felt like hours until we could spot, only faintly in the distance, a small collection of lights that formed the one stop light town of Eureka, Nevada.
“Almost there,” I said to myself, as we approached the quaint town, slowing the car to match the decreasing speed limit signs. The change of the vibrations of the wheels against the road and the softening hum of the slowing car engine pulled Tim and Beth from their back seat sleep, half-aware of the car’s decreasing speed.
“Where are we?” Tim asked.
“Some place called Eureka, Nevada,” I replied. “And just in time too, we’re almost out of gas.”
As we pulled into the small western town, it was after two in the morning. Almost everything was closed. We drove around the small town, but could not find an open gas station.
“Ask someone,” Beth chimed in.
“Ask someone what?” I replied, confused.
“Where the nearest gas station is,” she followed.
“I think we passed it and it’s closed,” I answered.
“Just ask someone,” Sunday interjected.
I looked at her with utter surprise. Did I hear that right? Did Sunday and Beth, now bitter enemies, agree on a course of action? And was not this the same course of action that almost had a fatal outcome in south Los Angeles?
“You want me to ask someone? At two a.m.?” I sarcastically replied.
Beth and Sunday answered in unison, “Yes!”
“Fine!” I said as I immediately found myself at the end of Eureka city limits, as the town itself was only a few blocks in size.
“The only place open was that bar back there,” I said as I turned the car around in a rest area and headed back toward downtown Eureka.
I pulled the car up to the tiny bar located in a small brick building with windows painted black. I turned the car off and sat there.
“Well?” Beth asked.
“Well what?” I replied.
“Well, go ask them,” she continued.
“You want me to go into a bar in the middle of nowhere at two a.m. asking anyone still sober enough to understand if they knew where we could get any gas?” I asked.
“Yes,” she stated with certainty.
“Then go ahead,” I said.
“You’re a wuss,” Sunday chimed in.
“Yup,” I said as many uneasy images raced through my mind, most of which consisted of me getting my ass kicked. I may be many things, wuss included, but I am also very pragmatic. I don’t do anything that has unnecessary risk. That’s why I never got drunk. It’s why I never did an illegal drug. It’s why I’m completely boring on many levels.
So, the idea of wandering into a strange bar located in the middle of an open range in a town I’ve never been in to tell the remaining inhabitants of the bar that I was from out of town and out of gas… well, that seemed fraught with disaster. Why not just tattoo “take advantage of me” on my forehead… the end result would be the same.
As the discussion on who would enter the bar grew more heated in the car, a large, intimidating man stumbled out of the bar. Sunday quickly rolled down the window, turned on the flirtation motors and said, “Excuse me, do you know where we could get some gas?”
“Gas? For your car? Well…” the man thought for a long time, “… the gas station is closed until morning. But, I have some extra gas in the back of my pickup. I’ll sell it to ya.”
We quickly discussed the option in the car and, despite my growing concern, Beth leaned forward and said “Okay.”
“My pickup is across the street at the hotel,” the drunk, big man said.
He stumbled and weaved across the street and we slowly crept behind him in the car, following him up a small hill to the parking lot of the undersized, cheap hotel.
The big man stopped by his pickup truck and examined some containers in the back. He then entered his hotel room, only to return a few moments later, making his way back to our car. He leaned in, his breath laced with alcohol, his eyes focused with penetrating invasiveness.
“Look, before I can sell ya the gas, I need to get my boss’ okay. It’s his gas, really, but he doesn’t believe me, so I need one of ya to come back to my hotel room…” he said, his eyes never leaving Sunday’s face.
Everyone’s discomfort rippled through the car as we realized just how vulnerable we were.
“No thank you!” Sunday said and rolled up the window as I put the car in first gear and raced out of the parking lot.
The man screamed at us at the top of his lungs with a deep and evil tone.
“Get back here! Get back here you bastards! I’m gonna get you! I’m gonna get my shotgun and kill all of ya!” he screamed as we screeched onto the main drag of Eureka.
We were all upset. Frightened, I looked at our gas gauge then back to my travel companions, saying “What are we going to do? We don’t have enough gas to get to the next town. We’re stuck here until morning with that maniac after us.”
Everyone in the car remained silent as our options were limited and our fear was growing with each second.
********
Part 55, (Text, Audio)
Part 54, (Text, Audio) - Part 53, (Text, Audio) - Part 52, (Text, Audio)
Part 51, (Text, Audio) - Part 50, (Text, Audio) - Part 49, (Text, Audio)Part 48, (Text, Audio) - Part 47, (Text, Audio) - Part 46, (Text, Audio)Part 45, (Text, Audio) - Part 44, (Text, Audio) - Part 43, (Text, Audio)Part 42, (Text, Audio) - Part 41, (Text, Audio) Part 40, (Text, Audio)Part 39, (Text, Audio) - Part 38, (Text, Audio) - Part 37, (Text, Audio)Part 36, (Text, Audio) - Part 35, (Text, Audio) - Part 34, (Text, Audio)Part 33, (Text, Audio) - Part 32, (Text, Audio) - Part 31, (Text, Audio)Part 30, (Text, Audio) - Part 29, (Text, Audio) - Part 28, (Text, Audio)Part 27, (Text, Audio) - Part 26, (Text, Audio) - Part 25, (Text, Audio)Part 24, (Text, Audio) - Part 23, (Text, Audio) - Part 22, (Text, Audio)Part 21, (Text, Audio) - Part 20, (Text, Audio) - Part 19, (Text, Audio)Part 18, (Text, Audio) - Part 17, (Text, Audio) - Part 16, (Text, Audio) Part 15, (Text, Audio) - Part 14, (Text, Audio) - Part 13, (Text, Audio)Part 12 (Text, Audio) - Part 11 (Text, Audio) - Part 10 (Text, Audio)Part 09, (Text, Audio) - Part 08, (Text, Audio) - Part 07 (Text, Audio) Part 06 (Text, Audio) - Part 05 (Text, Audio) - Part 04 (Text, Audio)Part 03 (Text, Audio) - Part 02 (Text, Audio) - Part 01 (Text, Audio)
When I was in Scotland in 1999 for work, I was staying in the town of Livingston. About an hour away was the town of Edinburgh, which has a tremendous and historic castle at its center and has beautiful, aged buildings and streets surrounding it.
After work one evening I joined a couple of coworkers to visit Edinburgh (pronounced Ed-in-borough). While there I was determined to experience life in a pub. As we walked the streets we eventually found ourselves in a place called The Grass Market where there was a pub called The Last Drop. The logo for the pub included a hangman's noose. After about an hour at the pub drinking a pint of local ale, I went up the old bar in the back of the small room and chatted with the burly bartender.
"I'm an American," I said, "and, when it comes to business, we're all about marketing. So, I'm wondering why your logo is a noose? I can't imagine that's an easy sell."
The bartender pointed past me, through the window, out to a large section of raised cement about fifteen yards from the pub entrance.
"You see that?" he said in his naturally thick Scottish accent.
"Yes," I replied.
"That's where they used to hang criminals. Before they were hung, they were brought in here for a drink. So, they got their last drop (referring to the ale) before they took their last drop (referring to being hung)," he chuckled.
"Really?" I said, intrigued. "How old is this place?"
"The pub's been here for over four hundred years," the bartender replied as he took my empty pint.
"Four hundred years?" I exclaimed. "That's older than my country!" I sat quietly and tried to comprehend the fact that I was sitting in a bar almost twice as old as my country. As my mind muscled it's way through the effects of the ale and tried to fathom the age of the pub, I noticed on the bar itself a small trough running from one end of the bar to the other, sloping down, wrapping around the end of the bar and continuing into an adjoining room.
"What's this?" I asked.
"Well," the bartender said as he handed me another pint, "back when no women were allowed in pubs the men would get so pissed drunk that when they had to take a piss, they didn't want to or couldn't stand up. So they would just unzip and piss right into the trough."
I laughed as I followed the now unused trough around the bar and into the adjoining room, which was now a bathroom, appropriately enough.
It was just one of the events on that trip, relaxing with friends at The Last Drop, which made the trip across the pond worthwhile.
As the gas gauge quickly approached Empty, my heart began to quicken and my palms began to sweat. I was now struggling fiercely with intense sleep deprivation and had slowly veered from one side of the road to the other on various occasions.
I was left with no other choice.
“Sunday!” I intensely whispered.
She remained motionless, comfortably asleep.
“Sunday!” I said louder as she slowly stirred awake.
“What?” she asked, still more in dreamland than reality.
“I need to talk to you! I need you to help me stay awake!” I said urgently.
“Okay…” she fumbled. “What… what do you want to talk about?” she asked, her eyes still closed.
“I don’t care. Anything!” I exclaimed.
“Okay…” she said as she drifted back to sleep.
“Sunday! Sunday! Talk to me… tell me, what’s you favorite movie?” I asked desperately.
“What’s my favorite…” her voice drifted off.
“Movie!” I said. “What’s your favorite movie?”
“My favorite movie?” She repeated.
“Yes, what’s you favorite movie?” I asked again.
“My favorite movie? What’s my favorite movie?” she again replied.
“Yes!” I said, getting frustrated. I spoke a little louder and more slowly so she could grasp my question through the haze of exhaustion. “What-is-your-favorite-movie!”
“It’s… it’s….” she faltered.
I finally leaned over to her and with a very clear voice said “Sunday, if you don’t talk to me right now we’re going to die!”
Sunday bolted up. “What?” she asked, suddenly aware. “My favorite movie? What’s my favorite movie?” she asked quickly. “I… I don’t know.”
I rolled my eyes and tried another question. “Okay, then what was the last movie you’ve seen?”
“The last movie… oh! I don't remember the title, but iIt was about those kids who get stuck in the mall,” she responded.
“Can you elaborate?” I prodded.
“Yeah, it’s about these four kids who skip school and they do to hang out in the mall. You know, one’s the jock and he’s with his girlfriend and then there’s the jock’s friend and the girlfriend’s nerdy brother.”
“I haven’t seen that one. What happens?” I asked.
“Well, they sneak into the back halls of the mall, fooling around, spying on girls, shoplifting and stuff when, before they know it, they find themselves locked into the mall overnight,” she explained.
“That’d be cool.” I said.
“Noooo!” she said cautiously, “See there’s this guy, this freak who’s stuck in the mall with them. And they're trapped. They can't get out! They have nowhere to go! And this maniac, he follows them and hunts them and scares them and tries to attack them and…”
Her words hung in the air like a feather floating on unseen winds.
“And?” I pleaded.
She shrugged and said simply, “And then they got him.”
“And then they got him? That’s it?” I asked, confused.
“Yeah,” she stated. “Then they got him.”
I laughed to myself, partly because of Sunday’s retelling, but also because I was slap happy with exhaustion.
"Okay," I chuckled. "And then they got him."
I looked to the road and swerved sharply in a panic.
“Why’d you do that!” Sunday yelled.
“You didn’t see… something… in the road?” I stumbled as I tried to visualize what I had just seen... or thought I saw.
“No. There wasn’t anything in the road,” Sunday said with concern.
“Boy, I hope we reach the next town soon!” I said.
As I looked down at the gas tank, it had better be really soon or else we’d find ourselves stranded in the dark of night in the middle of Nevada.
********
Part 54, (Text, Audio) - Part 53, (Text, Audio) - Part 52, (Text, Audio)
Part 51, (Text, Audio) - Part 50, (Text, Audio) - Part 49, (Text, Audio)Part 48, (Text, Audio) - Part 47, (Text, Audio) - Part 46, (Text, Audio)Part 45, (Text, Audio) - Part 44, (Text, Audio) - Part 43, (Text, Audio)Part 42, (Text, Audio) - Part 41, (Text, Audio) Part 40, (Text, Audio)Part 39, (Text, Audio) - Part 38, (Text, Audio) - Part 37, (Text, Audio)Part 36, (Text, Audio) - Part 35, (Text, Audio) - Part 34, (Text, Audio)Part 33, (Text, Audio) - Part 32, (Text, Audio) - Part 31, (Text, Audio)Part 30, (Text, Audio) - Part 29, (Text, Audio) - Part 28, (Text, Audio)Part 27, (Text, Audio) - Part 26, (Text, Audio) - Part 25, (Text, Audio)Part 24, (Text, Audio) - Part 23, (Text, Audio) - Part 22, (Text, Audio)Part 21, (Text, Audio) - Part 20, (Text, Audio) - Part 19, (Text, Audio)Part 18, (Text, Audio) - Part 17, (Text, Audio) - Part 16, (Text, Audio) Part 15, (Text, Audio) - Part 14, (Text, Audio) - Part 13, (Text, Audio)Part 12 (Text, Audio) - Part 11 (Text, Audio) - Part 10 (Text, Audio)Part 09, (Text, Audio) - Part 08, (Text, Audio) - Part 07 (Text, Audio) Part 06 (Text, Audio) - Part 05 (Text, Audio) - Part 04 (Text, Audio)Part 03 (Text, Audio) - Part 02 (Text, Audio) - Part 01 (Text, Audio)
Proof is a film about Catherine, the daughter of a brilliant mathematician, who recounts the struggle of taking care of her father and his mental deterioration over the last few years of his life. Catherine, played by Gwyneth Paltrow, also an excellent mathematician in her own right, fights the emotional turmoil of seeing her father's demise and fearing that she will someday follow his path. Her father, played by Anthony Hopkins, is seen in the film through flashback and dreams.
Catherine has had to sacrifice a lot to keep her father from spending his final time in a mental facility. She's had to drop out of school and take care of him as his once brilliant mind slips into instability. She's become isolated and fearful and depressed. After his death, one of her father's teacher's aides, Hal, played by Jake Gyllenhaal, asks to go through her father's numerous writings during the last years of his life to see if, among the incoherent ramblings, are any more mathematical gems to be found and published. During his investigation he comes across one notebook with a new mathematical proof that is groundbreaking. Is it the father's or is it Catherine's?
Proof, written by David Auburn, is based on his play. I was fortunate to see a local production of Proof at our local American Stage playhouse, with my friend and actor Brian Shea playing the role of Hal. The play was very well done and extremely effective. Shea, who's appeared in my feature The Box and my short film The Business Trip, was wonderful as the excited, nerdy and charming Hal.
The film, directed by John Madden, who previously teamed up with Paltrow for the excellent film Shakespeare in Love, tries his best at expanding the play's claustrophobic surroundings so the film will seem bigger, but the film still struggles from the inherent problem of converting a play to film... it's still too wordy.
However, for those of you who have not seen the play, the film will be enjoyable. The performances are solid and the story interesting. It's a small film, but still has some punch.
The tires screeched loudly, jolting everyone from their sleep and throwing them forward as the car shuddered to a stop.
“What’s wrong!” Beth exclaimed. She looked over my shoulder from the backseat to spot a group of wild horses standing in the middle of the highway.
“Do you guys see that?” I asked cautiously.
“Horses?” Sunday replied.
“Yup,” I followed.
“Uh-huh,” Tim confirmed.
“Good!” I sighed with relief.
After so many hours on the road I thought I was seeing things. I looked passed the horses to see another Highway 50 sign.
Sunday squinted and leaned forward. “Does that say The Loneliest Road in America?” she asked.
“Loneliest or Loveliest?” I interjected.
Tim looked over and spied the sign. “Nope, that’s Loneliest.”
“Loneliest? Well, then how are we on gas?” Beth asked.
“We have about a quarter of a tank left,” I answered.
“We’d better stop at the next town and fill up,” she replied as she and Tim leaned back and tried to get back to sleep.
By the time the horses eventually cleared so that we could pass even Sunday was back to sleep. I swigged down the remaining caffeine remnants from my warm can of cola and continued down the road.
A few miles later I saw another sign labeled “Open Range.”
So that’s why the horses were in the road. That explains it… we were driving through an open range with no fences. That also explains why this is the Loneliest Road in America. If it were more popular, they’d have to put up fences to protect the animals… and the sleepy drivers.
That means I’d have to be more careful. Who knows what other animals would end up appearing on the road. Having learned how to drive in Florida the most I had ever had to avoid was road kill, not live, breathing, large animals. I knew I had to remain alert.
As the hum of the car reached its normal level, however, and the white lines of the road continued to hypnotically pass in front of the headlights, my eyes began to close uncontrollably. I slapped myself in the face and changed my seating position to the most uncomfortable place I could find as to try and overcome my sleep deprivation.
And I was growing nervous. As the tank crept slowly toward E for Empty I realized it had been miles without any sign what-so-ever. No Highway 50 sign, no Open Range sign, no Next City in So Many Miles sign… no sign of life… no nothing.
Could we really end up stranded in the middle of The Loneliest Road in America without any gas and no idea of the distance to the nearest town?
It would turn out that if things didn’t change in a hurry that would be the least of our problems.
********
Part 53, (Text, Audio) - Part 52, (Text, Audio)
Part 51, (Text, Audio) - Part 50, (Text, Audio) - Part 49, (Text, Audio)Part 48, (Text, Audio) - Part 47, (Text, Audio) - Part 46, (Text, Audio)Part 45, (Text, Audio) - Part 44, (Text, Audio) - Part 43, (Text, Audio)Part 42, (Text, Audio) - Part 41, (Text, Audio) Part 40, (Text, Audio)Part 39, (Text, Audio) - Part 38, (Text, Audio) - Part 37, (Text, Audio)Part 36, (Text, Audio) - Part 35, (Text, Audio) - Part 34, (Text, Audio)Part 33, (Text, Audio) - Part 32, (Text, Audio) - Part 31, (Text, Audio)Part 30, (Text, Audio) - Part 29, (Text, Audio) - Part 28, (Text, Audio)Part 27, (Text, Audio) - Part 26, (Text, Audio) - Part 25, (Text, Audio)Part 24, (Text, Audio) - Part 23, (Text, Audio) - Part 22, (Text, Audio)Part 21, (Text, Audio) - Part 20, (Text, Audio) - Part 19, (Text, Audio)Part 18, (Text, Audio) - Part 17, (Text, Audio) - Part 16, (Text, Audio) Part 15, (Text, Audio) - Part 14, (Text, Audio) - Part 13, (Text, Audio)Part 12 (Text, Audio) - Part 11 (Text, Audio) - Part 10 (Text, Audio)Part 09, (Text, Audio) - Part 08, (Text, Audio) - Part 07 (Text, Audio) Part 06 (Text, Audio) - Part 05 (Text, Audio) - Part 04 (Text, Audio)Part 03 (Text, Audio) - Part 02 (Text, Audio) - Part 01 (Text, Audio)
Last night my wife and I celebrated our 14th wedding anniversary. We enjoyed a nice evening out at Arigatos, a Japanese steak house, then when we came home, our daughter Dorothea had cleaned the house, had our wedding album on display and romantic music, along with two treats with two candles.
As my mom has always said, love is an action word and our daughter expressed her love to us last night.
She is such a sweet heart. We were both very touched.
The Loneliest Road in America.
That’s what it said just below the Highway 50 sign. At least that’s what I thought it said. But it couldn’t have said that could it? I mean, who in modern society would publicize such a thing?
It couldn’t have said that. Perhaps I misread it. It must have said The Loveliest Road in America. That’s it! Must have said Loveliest. Of course, as my shift behind the wheel was in the middle of the night, I couldn’t really tell if it was the Loneliest or Loveliest. I could only spy the flashing of the white dividing line on the thin highway and the occasional glowing meteor streaking across the star-filled sky.
Having just filled up, we had plenty of gas. Plus, everyone else was fast asleep, so I couldn’t ask anyone to check the map. Well, I could have, but, to be honest, I was enjoying the silence and the lack of tension that was a by-product of everyone else being unconscious.
Assuming Tim and Beth checked the map carefully before finalizing this path, I was confident we would not run into any unexpected issues.
The road was relatively empty and my eyes were starting to glaze as my only focal point was the dotted white line on the road which continually flashed in front of me from the glow of the headlights. I shook myself awake and started humming to myself the first song that came into my mind.
The song? Step Into Tomorrow. The band? Maiden Voyage.
Maiden who, you ask? Maiden Voyage, of course. Maiden Voyage was well known all throughout our neighborhood on Tanglewood Drive. The band consisted of yours truly on drums, my brother Charles on guitar, Mike Rebane also on guitar and David McCallup on bass. Our goal was to be the first successful Christian rock band that would cross over to the pop charts. That’s why we named ourselves Maiden Voyage because no one had done it before.
David, Pete, Charles and Mike,
aka Maiden Voyage, during a rehearsal
We had two problems. One, we didn’t really have a lead singer. We tried a couple of people, David and Joe… but none of them really panned out. Our second and more basic problem was that we weren’t overtly talented. We were really good at sounding like a copy of a cover band that copies real bands, but we didn’t have our own style or inherent musical insight.
To misquote Abraham Lincoln, our music had the substance of a broth made from the shadow of an emaciated pigeon.
We did fill many o’ hours in our room blaring away. We were so loud that our mother mastered the ability to open the round door knob using her elbows because her hands were covering her ears. A truly talented woman, my mother.
Charles and Pete listening to one of Maiden Voyage's recordings
We not only played our instruments, but we even tried our hand at song writing. Being “the writer” I ended up penning most of them… such memorable ditties as Alley Wanderer, Lisa and With Love Like This. But that Nevada night the song that leaped into my mind was not one of my own, but one Charles had written called Step Into Tomorrow… a love song about his relationship with his then girlfriend and now wife and mother of his eleven children.
That’s right… eleven kids. Must have been some song, huh?
Charles singing Step Into Tomorrowduring a rehearsal
As I hummed the lyrics to Tomorrow I was immediately thrust back seven years to my junior year in high school. Each year our church youth group would offer a Thanksgiving dinner for shut-ins and elderly who were usually stuck in nursing homes. We’d pick them up and bring them to our church cafeteria where the youth group would try to fill the hours while our guests were eating the Thanksgiving meal by putting on a variety show of tricks and skits.
It was at one of those Thanksgiving dinners that Maiden Voyage kicked off its one stop, one night only world tour. Not musically gifted, you say? No problem. We overcame our lack of talent by simply playing louder.
Charles, Mike and David
We had enlisted Joe to sing lead vocals and were planning on performing Hotel California by The Eagles and Stone In Love by Journey. Joe had a natural voice and our rehearsals in the days before went very well.
However, under the makeshift flood lights and having to perform in front of a large, elderly, immobile and hard of hearing audience, well, everything changed. We were all a little nervous and poor Joe’s throat tightened up. He strained and wheezed and struggled to hit the highest notes.
Everyone was suddenly feeling very awkward. The three guitarists, unable to watch the debacle unfold before them, all turned and faced me, their backs now to the audience. Stuck behind a drum set and unable to turn away from our elderly captives, I simply stared as Joe was left alone by his mutinous band members, his tiring voice straining to achieve even the most basic of notes.
Understandably, the audience of elder citizens looked on with confusion, wondering how all of the moments of their long and happy lives had somehow brought them to this one place on this one night where they suddenly found themselves stuck in a room full of loud teenagers, forced to listen to something resembling a combination of drunken music and animal torture.
"Was this their price for a free dinner? They didn’t say anything about audible torture when they picked us up at the nursing home." If they had any sense of direction or ability to actually stand, I’m sure they would have freely given up this chance at a free meal so they could escape Maiden Voyage’s memorable version of entertainment.
I gripped the steering wheel tightly as I winced in embarrassment of that once-forgotten memory. Those poor people. They deserved so much more than what we had given them. And poor Joe, left to hang out to dry by the band.
I shivered as a wave of shame washed over me.
My trip down memory lane was over rather abruptly, however, for when I looked up at the road my eyes widen with disbelief as I slammed on the brakes.
********
Part 52, (Text, Audio)
Part 51, (Text, Audio) - Part 50, (Text, Audio) - Part 49, (Text, Audio)Part 48, (Text, Audio) - Part 47, (Text, Audio) - Part 46, (Text, Audio)Part 45, (Text, Audio) - Part 44, (Text, Audio) - Part 43, (Text, Audio)Part 42, (Text, Audio) - Part 41, (Text, Audio) Part 40, (Text, Audio)Part 39, (Text, Audio) - Part 38, (Text, Audio) - Part 37, (Text, Audio)Part 36, (Text, Audio) - Part 35, (Text, Audio) - Part 34, (Text, Audio)Part 33, (Text, Audio) - Part 32, (Text, Audio) - Part 31, (Text, Audio)Part 30, (Text, Audio) - Part 29, (Text, Audio) - Part 28, (Text, Audio)Part 27, (Text, Audio) - Part 26, (Text, Audio) - Part 25, (Text, Audio)Part 24, (Text, Audio) - Part 23, (Text, Audio) - Part 22, (Text, Audio)Part 21, (Text, Audio) - Part 20, (Text, Audio) - Part 19, (Text, Audio)Part 18, (Text, Audio) - Part 17, (Text, Audio) - Part 16, (Text, Audio) Part 15, (Text, Audio) - Part 14, (Text, Audio) - Part 13, (Text, Audio)Part 12 (Text, Audio) - Part 11 (Text, Audio) - Part 10 (Text, Audio)Part 09, (Text, Audio) - Part 08, (Text, Audio) - Part 07 (Text, Audio) Part 06 (Text, Audio) - Part 05 (Text, Audio) - Part 04 (Text, Audio)Part 03 (Text, Audio) - Part 02 (Text, Audio) - Part 01 (Text, Audio)
Fourteen years ago I was over my brother Charles' small three bedroom house, vacuuming my small black Daihatsu Charade in preparation for the big evening. While getting the car all cleaned up the rubber gasket around my windshield suddenly tore loose on one side. With little time to fix it correctly, I used the well used tool of duct tape to rescue me.
About the same time, Dea, my fiancé, was about to receive twelve long stem roses. Twelve days before I sent her one long stem rose. On the second day I sent her two bottles of wine. On the third day I sent her a balloon with three words, I Love You. On the fourth day I gave her a small globe, representing the four corners of the earth. On the fifth day I gave her star earrings, each with five points, representing the heavens. On the sixth day I gave her a six-pack of her favorite beer. On the seventh day I gave her a ship in a bottle, representing the seven seas. On the eighth day I gave her a basket with enough items for eight soothing baths. On the ninth day I gave her a doll of a baby, representing nine months of pregnancy. On the tenth day I gave her a calendar, because we had been together for 10 months. On the eleventh day I gave her a picture of me... because, let’s face it, I'm better than a 10. And on the twelfth day, I gave her twelve long stem roses.
I called it the Twelve Days of Marriage.
Later that evening, at Our Lady of Lourdes Catholic Church, around six in the evening, my beautiful wife met me at the altar to become my wife in our Wedding Mass. Eleven months later our daughter, Dorothea was born. Twelve days later we celebrated our first wedding anniversary. Four years later our son, Gabriel, was born. We've changed houses, locations and jobs, but my family has been with me for the whole ride. And steering our course is my wife, who's love of God, love of her faith and constant drive for self improvement in every way has been an infinite source of inspiration to me.
Fourteen years ago today my life changed in ways I never could have imagined. I have never been so happy, so fulfilled and so loved as I am today... thanks to my soul mate, my wife.
I love you, Dea.
As the air grew colder while the blue Acura Integra sped through the mountains away from San Francisco and toward home, the temperature of friendship inside the small car grew frigid as well. At this point in the trip the four travelers had grown weary of each other. We all wanted our old beds, our old friends and our own space. Small inconveniences had become major obstacles and cracks in the foundation of companionship had opened up to large, gaping holes filled with short tempers and heavy silence.
The trip home was to be accelerated, as we planned to drive straight through. No camping, no hotels, no stopping, except for gas. Just the sweet purr of the Acura throttling between 70 and 80 miles per hour and the desperately needed respite of our homes quickly approaching. The most direct route eastfrom San Francisco was taking Interstate 80 just past Reno, then hop onto Highway 50 through Nevada, connecting with Interstate 70 in Utah, through Denver all the way to Illinois. At that point we'd take Interstate 24 to Nashville, hop on I-75 and head south until we got home. Direct, precise and ill-informed.
As we weaved through the mountains of California it was as if everyone spoke through clenched jaws... that is when anything was spoken at all. The joy of conversation had evolved into mandatory information only. There was no joking, no laughing, no sharing memories nor sharing dreams. The conversations consisted of who was driving when and where and where the next gas station was located. That was about it. Sunday and I sat in the back, counting our pennies, figuring out how to survive on the couple of bucks in our pockets, while Tim and Beth conversed lightly between themselves about future plans and family, yet never engaged us in their conversations. Like Berlin after World War II, a strong and impenetrable wall had been built brick by brick between us. Ever since leaving Florida, with every passing hour did we slowly build and cement those impediments between us. Now, only a ladder, a tunnel or a massive explosion would allow escape.
With little left to say, we all slept as much as possible... or acted like we were sleeping. We took advantage of anyway we could to escape this current situation, even if it meant we resorted to using our own dreams to do so.
Night arrived and we could see Reno, Nevada in the distance, the glow of neon piercing the otherwise black, cold evening. We all gazed out of the window, wondering how much fun it would have been to have been there on any other occasion than now. Instead, we just stopped, refueled and continued on our way.
Our turns behind the steering wheel were defined by the size of the Acura's gas tank. Each full tank would get us about five hours of drive time. After the tank was full in Reno, Tim and Beth silently exchanged places with Sunday and I. I sat behind the steering wheel, put the car in first and continued off. The night was early and I had not slept very well, but felt relatively fresh, confident I could make the five hour trek ahead of me. There are usually numerous distractions on the road... other cars, interesting well lit gas stations or local stores. I just focused on getting through the next fifteen minutes. After twenty of those fifteen minutes segments, my shift would be over.
I followed Beth and Tim's directions and left Interstate 80 and continued east on Highway 50. After about an hour I found the road growing lonesome. Everyone in the car had fallen asleep and other signs of life, such as traffic or buildings, were growing thin. There was just the twinkling of the star covered night and the lone glow of our headlights on the unlit roadway.
It was then that I spotted something that just had to be wrong.
********
Part 51, (Text, Audio) - Part 50, (Text, Audio) - Part 49, (Text, Audio)Part 48, (Text, Audio) - Part 47, (Text, Audio) - Part 46, (Text, Audio)Part 45, (Text, Audio) - Part 44, (Text, Audio) - Part 43, (Text, Audio)Part 42, (Text, Audio) - Part 41, (Text, Audio) Part 40, (Text, Audio)Part 39, (Text, Audio) - Part 38, (Text, Audio) - Part 37, (Text, Audio)Part 36, (Text, Audio) - Part 35, (Text, Audio) - Part 34, (Text, Audio)Part 33, (Text, Audio) - Part 32, (Text, Audio) - Part 31, (Text, Audio)Part 30, (Text, Audio) - Part 29, (Text, Audio) - Part 28, (Text, Audio)Part 27, (Text, Audio) - Part 26, (Text, Audio) - Part 25, (Text, Audio)Part 24, (Text, Audio) - Part 23, (Text, Audio) - Part 22, (Text, Audio)Part 21, (Text, Audio) - Part 20, (Text, Audio) - Part 19, (Text, Audio)Part 18, (Text, Audio) - Part 17, (Text, Audio) - Part 16, (Text, Audio) Part 15, (Text, Audio) - Part 14, (Text, Audio) - Part 13, (Text, Audio)Part 12 (Text, Audio) - Part 11 (Text, Audio) - Part 10 (Text, Audio)Part 09, (Text, Audio) - Part 08, (Text, Audio) - Part 07 (Text, Audio) Part 06 (Text, Audio) - Part 05 (Text, Audio) - Part 04 (Text, Audio)Part 03 (Text, Audio) - Part 02 (Text, Audio) - Part 01 (Text, Audio)
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