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Date:         Fri, 13 Mar 2009 22:05:25 -0700
Reply-To:     Jake de Villiers <crescentbeachguitar@GMAIL.COM>
Sender:       Vanagon Mailing List <vanagon@gerry.vanagon.com>
From:         Jake de Villiers <crescentbeachguitar@GMAIL.COM>
Subject:      Re: Ione #2
Comments: To: Jeffrey Olson <jjolson@gwtc.net>
In-Reply-To:  <49BAFC38.1010209@gwtc.net>
Content-Type: text/plain; charset=ISO-8859-1

Wow, great writing Jeff - you've been peeking, haven't you? :-)

On Fri, Mar 13, 2009 at 5:37 PM, Jeffrey Olson <jjolson@gwtc.net> wrote:

> Ione and I pulled into a small canyon off a dirt road in the Grand > Escalante. We'd been on the road for a week and had made the transition > from home to the bus, from place, to place to place. I knew it wouldn't > take long for me as I'd done this numerous times over the previous 40 > years. But I'd wondered about Ione. She had always had a light > presence in any of her living situations, but had never ever just left > everything behind before. > > > The last week had been really fun, and really stressful. I kept > reminding myself that stress in and of itself is neither negative or > positive, that it's all about attitude and choosing what to see. Three > years of planning and dreaming and building and crafting and storing and > going through all the material possessions was fun. We both knew there > was an end to that part of the process - the road. But it hadn't been > real. The actual leaving didn't have a tangible something to hold. It > was always far off in the future. > > > Leaving Laramie we headed south on US 287. We'd decided we wanted to > stay off freeways and experience America's towns and their cultures > rather than fast food/gas station complexes on the way to somewhere. > One of the nice parts of being 56 for me is the letting go of my need to > get from point A to point B. My whole life I'd viewed the road as a > place to get me from work to vacation, from vacation spot to vacation > spot, and finally, the long drive back to home and work. > > > The road from Laramie to Ft. Collins unrolls in high desert country, > bordered with 10,000' snow-studded ridges and mountains. It goes > through a red rock area of sedimentary layers filed with gold - a couple > mines are still operating - owned by foreign corporations of course. > > > That first morning - the first two hours actually, I found myself > glancing over at Ione as we snaked our way through the hills and vales > of southern Wyoming and northern Colorado. Part of being married, no, > one of the best parts of being married, is just being in the same moment > with someone I love. I don't need to know what's going on with her. I > love watching the moods cross her face as she busies herself actually > creating the nest we'd been planning for three years, as she watchs the > scenery pass by with a map in her hand, on its way to its home, a > moment's pause to notice the world passing by. I think my love for her > is as much about just hanging out moment to moment, wondering what's > going to happen next as any rapturous melding of spirits. I'm not > sure I even know what that means anymore... > > > All the planning and visioning and imagining and trying to anticipate > the low points and how we'd do in all those moments were now part of our > history. The act of getting in the bus this morning, saying goodbye to > Mike and Helen and their kids, and actually driving away - Wow!!! > > > I felt a headiness, a top spinning faster and faster. The bus was warm > from 15 minutes of goodbyes, idling, standing by. Our home was an > entity, a threaded conglomeration of the material and ephemeral, our > present moment stretching over three years, and the present moment of > shifting gears, watching the tachometer climb to its red line as I > pushed the 165 horsepower subaru engine to its regal top end. And > watching Ione look back and tear up, clutching her fleece vest and > twisting forward to gaze out the windshield into our future - what it > may bring... > > > I'm really verbal, and wanted to interrogate Ione about what she was > feeling. I knew this was a way to avoid feeling what I was feeling, so > I pointed the bus south toward warmer climes and periodically glanced > over at my life's love. Our time to talk would come. Right now we were > Ken Keye's two healthy spirits walking hand in hand in the grand > adventure of life, and that was enough. > > > We stopped off at Big City Burrito in Ft. Collins for lunch - my choice > - and began waddling back to the bus, satiated and more touchy-feely > than normal. For the most part, Ione and I are two ships sailing a > small sea. We can lose sight of each other and know we'll come back in > a day or week or two. I've never feel the portentious sense of being > adrift on an ocean with Ione - where the weather and tides and unknowns > conspire to separate and eventually send two people on separate paths. > > > Our distances and wanderings and fears are smaller and include each > other. Again, I attribute this to age and experience. When I'm off in > a creative endeavor that requires my intense concentration over weeks > and sometimes months, I am ever emotionally present within a sense of > "us" that has remained inviolate from our first days together. I was > ready to find Ione, and I trust that she was ready for me. That I even > think about this stuff five years after meeting her both puzzles me and > makes me laugh... > > > Big City Burrito has a parking lot off it's back door. It has eight or > so spaces. Patrons park here or in the 15 or so diagonal spaces in > front of the restaurant on Hwy 287. We'd parked in the spot closest to > the alley. I opened the rear screen door, bowing her through, and as > she passed, grabbed her belt and pulled her to me. I walked forward as > she walked backwards in my pretend dance embrace. She leapt into my > invitation and swiveled her hips so that we walked sideways in step with > each other - laughing so joyfully I was lost in love, so lost, so in love. > > > All of us who know love know when the physical attraction builds, and > how to embrace it. It doesn't have to be hot, sweaty, sex, but > sometimes the moment builds and playful movements through space in the > world end up slowing down and rapturous loving happens. > > > We'd always talked about love on the road, and had our moments on > vacations long and short over the previous five years. But we knew we > were entering a different world when we headed out from one home to > another - that everything would be different, including our lovemaking. > I think that because we're in our 50s the intensity of "I need to get > laid" no longer exists. I know I 've never come at Ione with the > insistence and expectation I did with other lovers in my 20s and 30s. I > am embarrassed when I remember how my needs were so strong that my > partner's needs were too often secondary. > > > Three years of planning had many moments where we consummated our shared > excitement. Written through our loving was an anticipation of what was > to come. The physical intimacy made it real. The words created the > vision. The loving created the reality from which the vision leapt. > There were many times we hung out in the bus when it was a metal shell, > and made love. We made love on the workbench where the Subaru engine > rested next to us. > > > Love on the road is something we anticipated. And now, walking hand in > pocket out of Big City Burrito in Ft. Collins, CO, we were cognizant of > each other's feelings to warp down and want to officially break in the > bus. Loose jawed, humid breathed, hyper-sensitive bodily parts, hands > on each other, walking 75' through the parking lot to the bus. The joy > of being 56 and ready - so much better than 25 and driven... > > > Back on the road after the sweet, sweet interlude, past the malls and > middle-income subdivisions before finding the prairie between housing > developments. > > > The bus... Our home... Denver is one big series of malls and > subdivisions on 287. We pass my mother's brothers subdivsion - > Lakewood. Heading south in our home on wheels, our VW bus, tricked out > as we wanted it to be. I know I wonder if it's going to sustain us. I > know Ione trusts me that it will sustain us. For the last six months > she's spent her time in detail land. I can build the cabinets, run the > propane lines for the heater and stove, prepare the bus for multiple > uses and imagine what we'll need. But when it comes to envisioning what > we'll actually need, and how to organize it, Ione is there. > > > Since I drove my first bus, a 66 SO42 Westfalia from mendocino county to > santa rosa, picking up a woman hitchhiker, with whom I fell in love - > two hours of intense conversation on the road - but I was too young, > still living at home, in high school, she 19 and so much more worldly... > > > Since I drove that bus those two hours, I've had a part of me that is > 17, totally out of control, totally ready to fall in love, that has > never died. The bus wraps the emotions, defines the thread, the road in > a way that is just now happening with Ione. Ione defines that part of > me that is 17. She is everything this 17 year old ever dreamed about; > smart, beautiful, willful, intuitive, and when the moment requires, > obnoxious. > > > And we are cruising through the suburbs of Denver on US 287 together. > We're in "The Bus." Our home. > > > Thinking about that - what I wrote - as we hang out in camp in the Grand > Escalante is so true. The six days after Ft. Collins are writ with the > nesting. Nesting is big. I hadn't realized how important nesting is in > a mobile home. Everything has a place. The funny thing is that we > still don't know what things have places in toto... This is a constant > source of humor. We monitor our day and organize accordingly. I manage > the big things - the bedroll, the car tools - the stuff that we need to > get into place before we hit the road. Ione manages the little things. > She makes sure the quality of our life is present. I would miss this... > > > Ione is showing herself to me in a new way. When we lived together in > an apartment she skipped across the surfaces as much as I did. Plants > need water, and it seemed it was always an afterthought - asking each > other if they were watered. Dust gathered. There were parts of the rug > that never got vacuumed. Over the last week she has become the queen > of order. Ione is not neurotic. Guys perceive her to be flighty and > emotional and intense and she scares them. She's just too damn smart, > both intellectually and emotionally. I feel blessed that she chooses to > hang with me. My life is never dull... > > > I think that nesting has taken her over. I drive, Ione nests. I know > at some point I'm going to have to work through the need to do all the > driving. I think at some point she will have to work through the need > to do the nesting. We're weaving our worlds and I look forward to the > next time we need to put our worlds together... > > > The sun is setting. Ione is wandering around, looking for > rattlesnakes!!! I sit here writing and feel in balance and harmony. > Life is good... > > Jeffrey Olson > Class of 1973 >

-- Jake

1984 Vanagon GL 1986 Westy Weekender "Dixie"

Crescent Beach, BC

www.crescentbeachguitar.com http://subyjake.googlepages.com/mydixiedarlin%27


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