Hooray for Luray
I was married in a large bed/breakfast kind of place on top of a mountain in Luray, Virginia. There was a woman (Zeta) who was legally certified to perform the ceremony by Page County and the state of Virginia. There was the woman filling in and running the ‘Inn” that day. There was the bride and me. The four of us.
It wasn’t hot that day like it is here today in Milwaukie, Oregon. Probably past 95 now. I’ve been in Kate’s house – for the price of a couple of paintings and the no-price-on-it realm of friendship – for a little over two weeks now and have parked myself, other than sleeping in the spare bedroom, in her glassed-in patio room. I’ve loved it there and written the last 10 Couch Surfing inner-weather reports from the patio. Yesterday, in the 93 degree heat, the room became an autoclave. Truly wicked. I punked out mid-afternoon and came in here to my temporary sleeping place, where I am right now, for refuge. I’m here now because after a morning of some errands – tutorial at the credit union re: the art of depositing checks from 1000 miles away. A walk under the towering shade trees of Laurelhurst Park, which, thinking about it, maybe that was the last one of those. A stop at T-Mobile because no one could hear me when they called me or I called them – dx, loose memory chip. A run up to Fred Meyer to fill the gas tank and not have to do it early before making the evil light-infested drive up to Gresham to see Spenser early tomorrow. Oh, a stop at my favorite Trader Joe’s on the planet, surely not the last time there, and dawdling a long time in the air conditioning, talking with a friend going through marriage troubles of his own, another guy on his way with his son to visit Mount Katahdin in Maine in a couple of weeks, a stop at Fenway Park for good measure, asking about becoming FB friends to stay connected, Sarah behind the manager’s counter, telling each one I’d just been on the phone with Spenser who said to say hello because he’s loved them all these years – and vice versa.
Anyway, I returned from the errands and the patio was a Dante Hell level and I came into the bedroom – which ain’t no party temperature wise – and called Spenser’s Personal Agent to update on the boy’s new life, a few updates re: this boy’s too. And I brought the laptop in here with me and it’s resting on my right leg, which is crossed over my left, here on the bed, all windows closed and shades down darkness, and while I have seen for years people doing their computer thing with laptops resting on their laps, this right here right now is an absolute first for me. And when I press ‘Publish” twice – very soon kids – I’ll go back into the patio and look on the computer – the real one on the table – and see if it worked. And if it did, I’ll twist and shout in celebration, mostly in my mind, too hot for all that activity.
The first paragraph here, yet another in my increasing visits down memory lane as memories of all my life rush more and more into my psyche, I think I thought of that day because after the wedding and the cake and goodbyes to Zeta and see you in a while to the housekeeper fill-in, the newlyweds spent their first afternoon as a betrothed couple in the sort of famous Luray caves. Google it, you’ll see. And it was really cool down in those caves. Really cool. Just like I bet it is today on the sunny, marine’d-air southern California coast,
Which, that, may be another story.