Jessica Dofflemyer ~ all rights reservedJessica Dofflemyer ~ all rights reservedJessica Dofflemyer ~ all rights reservedJessica Dofflemyer ~ all rights reservedJessica Dofflemyer ~ all rights reservedJessica Dofflemyer ~ all rights reservedJessica Dofflemyer ~ all rights reserved
On the shortest day of the year, we spend time wandering the seaside village. Sidewalks with dogs on leashes. Driftwood, rock piles and bright flowers in salted sunshine.
My sister’s patience conjures awe as she navigates 2 three year-olds through cinnamon sticky buns and waving sticks that mimic power tools. I’d forgotten this age, and it seems Jeb has too, as he watches, puzzled, at their antics, my index finger through the belt loop of small jeans that are kneeling over the edge of the river.
We leave Santa Cruz County by 2 and the sun is already tilting to set. Back to scanning the radio dial. We’re in Fresno County on Highway 99 by dusk, and have returned to the radio scan where one can choose from Christmas songs done Mariachi style on 5 different stations or country-style ala KJUG. Or one can just listen to a reading from the Bible.
Jeb reaches one finger toward the power button of the radio dial, his eyebrows lifted in my direction. “Is it just better this way?”
He means “off”. I say “yes.”
Silence and the sun melt with hazy sky to make a pink soup of cotton candy. Leftover french fries sit in the Burger King bag between us. Headlights on the semis move colors on the highway. Winter Solstice and we’re just going to keep getting closer to the light.
“Guns Next Exit”
says the roadside sign
Highway 99
we’re driving north
through San Joaquin Valley
radio scan
gifts Fleetwood Mac
twice
“All I want for Christmas is My Two Front Teeth”
and the
Beastie Boys
I turn them up loud
“No Sleep Til Brooklyn”
Jeb: “Mom, you’re acting too much like a boy”
semis
mini vans
and red sports cars
travel the straightaway
the smell of cow poop
from adjacent farm land
gets in the car
even with all the windows up
At Denny’s
our server Brenda
keeps bringing free hot chocolate refills
whipped cream included
Jeb: “She is sooo nice!”
We click along
continue on
as hawks watch from telephone lines
Jeb naps
and I’m with Pimsleur
learning to say
I don’t speak Czech very well
“Nemluvím česky moc dobře”
We idle through
Los Banos
pass Starbucks
I never knew this town
had a Henry Miller Plaza
the Bohemian calls to tell me
he’s in my house
stealing popcorn
climbing ladders
and fixing my smoke detector
he’s planted radicchio in
“your garden”
I say
“our garden”
Ok
he slept one night in my bed
he laughs and says
“my bed”
tells me
the garlic shoots
are eight inches long
and
“you’ll be home in 11 days”
he knows the number
that I hadn’t counted yet
This morning on the hardwood floor
of my sister’s Santa Cruz house
I sit by the wood stove at 4:45am
these California posts to the Archives
are scattered and unfocused
I’m in new houses
with different mugs and power outlets
I lean on the words of John Lennon
and hope these snapshots
however grammatically incorrect
or loosely wandered
are slightly redeemed
with a hint of something real
self-evident
I’m displaced and curious
just reporting details
“Rock and roll was real, everything else was unreal. And the thing about rock and roll, good rock and roll, whatever good means, is that it’s real, and realism gets through to you despite yourself. You recognize something in it which is true, like all true art. Whatever art is, readers, ok? If it’s real, it’s simple usually, and if it’s simple, it’s true, something like that. Rock and roll got through to you, finally.”
~ John Lennon, Lennon Remembers
“I’m going back to bed. Tell me about it in the morning, I’m sure it’s going to be really cool.”
“What? Really?” The Bohemian is standing in the dark of the room at the end of the bed where I have just crawled back under the covers and put my head to the pillow. It’s 3:11am.
I’m smiling to myself with my little joke. Loving to hear the tone of genuine disappointment in his voice – just for this quick moment – as it affirms to me that he actually wants to do this. Still surprising me, this man seems game for anything.
And this morning’s mission consists of a wee-hour drive to follow the moon. It’s the last total lunar eclipse North America will see until 2014 and Hawaii’s view time of the moon, completely shadowed by the earth, is set for 4:06am.
Joke over, I’m out of bed and making snacks. I throw some blankets in a bag and we’re off on to the quiet highway with the eclipsing moon above us through the windshield. We find a great spot on a country road that overlooks the ocean, though it’s so dark as the shadow seeps across the moon’s surface that we can’t really see the sea. But we can see stars. And in the two hours we spend laid out in the back of my truck, watching our celestial movie, we probably made at least 10 wishes.
In steady time, there remained only a thin smile of light stretching across the bottom of the moon. All was hushed. No dogs barking, even the roosters that crow 24/7 were quieted in the darkening night. We watched in wonder when suddenly the shadow of an owl swooped low – with impeccably silent wings – right over our heads, our awe expressed in reverent whispers.
Eventually, it was time to come out from the shadow. As promised, the moon began to emerge, casting light on the coconut fronds and ocean waves below us. In the early morning hours the sky lightened, though the sun was not yet risen.
“How about a double feature?” I asked.
The Bohemian (though a major movie lover) is not familiar with my English term.
“You know, sometimes at the movies they’ll show two for the price of one and call it a double feature. Wanna go see the sunrise? I think we’ve got time to get to the East side.”
As always, the man is game. And we arrive in time to see low clouds on the horizon as small waves roll in warming air. We back the truck up to the sand and situate ourselves once more for the nature show.
Upon the sun’s first beams of tangerine light through the cloud line, I’m humming “Here Comes the Sun” and the Bohemian is offering his mantra “It’s another day! We get another day!”
Jessica Dofflemyer ~ all rights reserved
And so with the morning officially on and the Saturday traffic beginning to resume its zoom, we’re sleepy-eyed and happy.
Did I mention the pending birthday party I was to host that day?
Yes, Jeb had a party that was scheduled to begin in a few hours and his dad would be bringing him to our place for the day’s festivities.
Celestial events and shooting stars aside, I had hot dog buns to buy. So we made our way to the bright lights of Foodland to pick up my last-minute party items. Then back home, where the Bohemian washed dishes and swept my floors – whistling all the while.
In the two hours, pre-party, the man had juiced 40 starfruit, cleared dead coconut fronds from the yard, taken down cobwebs on the lanai and cleaned the barbecue grill. Just when I thought he couldn’t do much more, he suggests the gorilla suit.
And so, yes, in the afterglow of a lunar eclipse and little sleep, party introductions to new friends, some hang time with Bodhi’s father, and a gaggle of eight year olds high on cookies, the Bohemian dons a gorilla suit. Well, at least the upper portion of it, which is saying a lot in the tropical heat of Hawaii.
From around the back of the house, through the bushes, he emerged as a sunglass-wearing gorilla, presenting Jeb his birthday cake. After their initial surprise, the throng of boys upped their alpha and all began attempts to wrestle the beast. Soon the Bohemian was surrounded (the cake safely in my hands) as the boys each took turns grabbing the primate and then being spun and flipped, ever so delicately, by monkey arms.
Jessica Dofflemyer ~ all rights reserved
By day’s end, the party was over and the boys had all gone home. I sat in a swirl of tiredness and amazement. The morning’s eclipse seemed like a distant dream. I observed the Bohemian with genuine curiosity, as he appeared to effortlessly switch gears from the mystical realms of night owls to the practical world of the garbage can with grace, never losing his smile.
Ok, so maybe my view is tainted by infatuation.
I know I’m smitten with the man in the gorilla suit. But so far, this guy seems game for anything. And I gotta say, I just love that.