Skip to main content

Mainland visit comes to an end

Pebbles, Roxie and Bailey are keeping me company right now, while my friend Gail presides over her homeowners' association meeting. She's the president. That's life in the big city. Pebbles and Roxie are tortoise-shell calicos. Bailey is an ever-alert soft-coated wheaten. They live here in the pretty coastal town of Encinitas, Calif. Tonight is my last here on the mainland. I've just spent a long weekend with a very special group of people. I've learned over the years that really good friends don't come along all that often, or easily. True friends are rare. They are the individuals with whom you can truly be yourself and never worry whether they will continue to love you. You can act goofy or play the ukulele badly. You can be reflective or emotional or happy or sad and they'll always be right there with you. These are the people you worry about. They are the friends who feel your pain and with whom you want to share your own happiness and successes. It doesn't matter if you live next door or thousands of miles away. You may talk to them often or rarely. These are the friends with whom you pick up right where you left off with no awkward re-acquaintance, as if no time has passed. The fact is, they are your family, more so sometimes than your blood relatives. These are your peeps, your homeys. They are the people you entrust with your innermost hopes, dreams, frustrations and secrets. Hang on to these people.
It's been a nice, two week adventure. I got my tooth fixed. Funny. I didn't know it needed fixing before I left home. So much for the quick cleaning and checkup. I felt the chill and warmth of my old home town. The chill came from the the autumn air. The warmth came from the people of Gunnison. I was wined and dined in high-country style. I bonded with my empty-but-cozy cabin. The mule deer came to visit. I drank more wine, ate great food, laughed my okole off and got caught up with my California buddies. Last year we spotted David Crosby in a grocery store. This year, the celebrity sighting was Noah Wiley. Next year, I'm hoping we all get recruited as overpaid extras after an encounter in the checkout line with Stephen Spielberg. It rained just a little, but I enjoyed plenty of sunshine. Ron insists the sky has been crystal clear nearly every day since I left the island. Tomorrow, I will be reunited with him and my furry family. I will post the weeks' photos when I return to the hovel. I'm out of money, but life is good.
A hui hou. Aloha!

Comments

Anonymous said…
Those are great words of wisdom Toni! It was great to see you again and be around friends and for sure we are family. Keep plucking the ukelele and I'll start practicing. Safe travels home.

Popular posts from this blog

Mom

This is my beautiful mom. She died last Sunday. For those who knew her, my heart breaks with you. For those who did not, here's an introduction to the best confidante, role model and mother a girl could hope for in life. This is the obituary I'd planned to submit to the local paper, but have opted instead to publish here. Obituary: Beverly Todd Bev -- my mom -- was a longtime caregiver, advocate, and dear friend to countless elderly in South Salem. Hers was a kind and generous spirit. She devoted much of her life to the welfare of others, giving wholly of herself and doing so always with great affection and humor. She was born Beverly Marie Steinberger in Silverton, July 23, 1938, the first child and only daughter of Art and Marie Steinberger. Her brothers called her Bevvy Buns, a nickname she grew fond of and wore proudly within the family circle as an adult. Bev attended St. Paul’s Elementary School in Silverton, Silverton High School and Marylhurst Co...

Back at it

It's been some time since I've written. My mom died in February, and I haven't had the gumption to write much, other than a couple of feature stories for the paper and the occasional pithy email to a friend. Tonight, sitting in my favorite burger joint with a pile of fries in front of me, I dunk them into a deep pool of ketchup mixed with a hot sauce. That's how Mom liked 'em. My burger? The Spicy Hawaiian, a nod to my 808 connections. It's a brilliant combination of peppers and pineapple, a favorite on the Power Stop menu. I'm sure she'd have loved it, too. There's a bubbly beer with a lime in it. That's not a homage to anything. I just like beer. These past months, I've done little but work, search and apply for jobs. Two rejection letters have landed in my email this week. Search-and-apply has become a futile obsession. It's time for a break, at least until I hear back from all those applications still floating around out there. I am...

Small town observations

Every day at noon, a siren blares from atop the city government building in Gunnison. Each time I hear it, I want to shout, “Yabba dabba doo!” even though it’s nowhere near happy hour. I’ve blurted this once or twice, only to elicit blank stares in response. Am I that old? Doesn’t anyone remember the The Flintstones? I hear that horn and imagine Fred sliding down the long neck of his gravel-quarry dino-dozer (which, thanks to Jurassic Park and the miracle of Google we all recognize now as riojasaurus). Quitting time! Fred flees, his fleet feet slapping toward a rack o’ ribs and a night of good times with Wilma, Barney, Betty and Dino. That’s Dino the dino, pronounced Deeno the dyno. Think that’s delusional? Another day, walking downtown near the source of the noontime wale, it struck me, a revelation it was, that the ramp up to full blast sounds just like the introduction to Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue, only this is a mega-air-raid, civil-defense siren solo rather than a clarinet, whic...