I came into this world via Marin General Hospital in the early 60's. I simmered and baked in the shadow of Mt. Tamalpias where I formulated exactly how to destroy myself - through no fault of the natural environment, rather the family unit, and the social structure or lack thereof in the late 70's early 80's.
Not long ago I returned to my past via Southwest Airlines from Burbank to San Jose. My dear friend Barbara picked me up and we eased ourselves into the fold of a time long ago, when both of us were different people. Barbara married her high school sweetheart after years of abandon in another relationship abroad. Barbara and Peter are my most delightful friends from the past. They are like rare, tiny, sea shells I can conceal in my pocket and look at later with glee. Barbara and Peter make sense.
The weekend was similar to an acid trip without the blotter. Acid-like in no recollection as to when I took the time altering drug, just the fact I was on a trip. Everyone I saw looked just vaguely familiar. It has been 28 years since we all parted company at 18, and middle age has settled in to many worn faces of whom I tried to blur in order to see younger or recognize. Name tags were a must. In fact the tags were a saving grace. And everyone, everyone was staring at one's name tag even if it was above a woman's' breast.
The gift of the reunion was a gentle this time -. It was a reflective experience, and I found if I wasn't careful I might bump into a few ghosts...the ghost of my dead brother was everywhere, but in the most loving of ways. He brushed against me the minute I arrived as if saying "I'm here"' - A man I vaguely remember, recounted an experience he had on prom night when double dating with my brother which was indelled in his mind - he gently tossed it to me and I held it in my heart...then another person from Tim's childhood presented himself half way through the day - He glided up to me in his wheel chair, a dear child in my memory bank now presented to me on a cold steel plate with wheels - he is now 44 years old. Where and when did I drop? When will this end? And I am no longer laughing. Yet, Joey was full of life, love and acceptance that only a person who has suffered can be. He embraced me, and my brother as if he were simply humming a familiar tune ...
The rest of my time was filled with joy and excitement at everyone's accomplishments. The birth of children, the successes of and failures of marriages, and yes a few dissasters in between life's lessons. There were a few stories of cancer, dead babies, suicide, and destruction along the way. The idea of some not making it - few - but some - was chilling. Yet those harsh facts solidified the reality of life taking prisoners and life playing for keeps. These disasterous detours are reminders to all that one must take heed and tread softly or one may fall into the abyss.
There were times I wanted to crawl into a dark place and cry my eyes out - wail from the bottom of my belly - and just wimper at how freaky life really is. How damn visceral all our experiences are, and how ironic the aging process truly is. Before I left Marin, I drove past places I incubated this self. I saw my mother in my minds eye, clear as day, as a young woman, I remembered businesses of which have been swallowed up and no longer stand in lieu of another new business or home in its place. Today I live in a 45 year old body - and every day I hold on to my psyche as if holding on to a tug of war rope and funny the hole in time has vanished as if it never even opened in the first place.
