We awoke some days later, the reverie diminished, with all of our beloved guests returned to their homes or back on their nomadic journeys, save one: a dear friend and heart brother made the longest journey to attend our wedding, and remained for what was his first visit to the United States. Heatherlee and I hosted Dan Berte, of Romania, for nearly three weeks during the window that would otherwise be considered a honeymoon. We acted as hosts in service to his curiosity and drive to cover as much ground as possible.
Wedding aftermath ebbing, we made arrangements to and traveled to San Francisco, where we stayed for seven days, the three of us sharing an economical hostel-type room in the neighborhood I once lived in, so I knew the area well. We slept rarely, usually not until after four in the morning, discovering shops and neighborhoods during the day and pubs and diners all night. We rocked a Devil Makes Three show at Great American Music Hall, and made strange new friends all over the City. We made the pilgrimage to every Apple-fanboys mothership, the Apple headquarters in Cupertino, and spent thousands on only the best gear. Dan has relationships with founders of Web 2.0 startups, and as he enjoyed visiting their offices, Heatherlee and I meandered the polished and clean streets of Silicon Valley, devoid of signs of poverty. We had many an intense conversation about the inspiration to creativity that capitalism can offer versus the ethics of hoarding money and resources, culminating in a visit to the Heartwood Institute, where Dan was irritated that the kitchen didn’t serve meat – as a customer, he felt that it was the organization’s obligation to provide what visitors wanted, while I argued that Heartwood was a bastion for people who do not share the view that more is necessarily better. A moot point, now that the Institute is buried perhaps permenetly.
Heartwood was the last leg of Dan’s visit to the U.S.A. – we had just two days to return to Chico for him to repack before getting to San Francisco International Airport. We left Heartwood heading south down Bell Springs Road – 18 miles of unpaved backcountry trail towards the 101, with Dan at the wheel. I’d driven the road many times and was confident that Dan could manage Stacey the Pirate (my trusty Subaru wagon), but less than 3 miles down the road we hit a gnarly pothole and the vehicle collapsed. We stopped immediately to discover that a strut bolt had sheared and the front drivers’ side wheel had detached completely from the frame - we were fortunate not to have careened off the precipace a few feet away, but the car was going nowhere. I climbed to the top of the hill and discovered that I could get internet access on my new iPhone, which I used to find a tow service open on Sunday, who could come and rescue us, regardless of the cost. Of course it took hours for the truck to arrive, and we squeezed into the cab with our friendly driver who took us to Garberville, where we simply left Stacey the Pirate for repairs. We were stranded, so we took the opportunity to sit at Rene’s house of B – home of the damn finest burger in America (buffalo meat, no less).
Our dear friend and colleague Michael Drew stumbled upon us, and since we had no where else to go, he dragged us along to a popular annual faire, where Dan was able to meet more of our friends and see the local SoHum color. I got ahold of my brother Cheetah, who was wrapping up his day as a farmer near Chico, and he heroically grabbed my Mom’s car and drove the five hours to Garberville. He arrived at 11:30 that night, exhausted but heroic, and Dan drove us home, to arrive in Chico less than one day behind schedule. No time to spare, he repacked, and we drove him to SFO the next morning, where we shared a bittersweet farewell. It had been a tumultuous three weeks. All of us had been challenged and our boundaries stretched past tolerance. We nary slept, partied intensively, argued heatedly, and spent thousands of dollars we couldn’t really afford, but at the core, it was an exercise of love, and each of us had faced our own shadow and been transformed in the company of true friends.
Dan Berte headed into the security checkpoint, such an awful way to say goodbye, and Heatherlee and I found ourselves free, for the first time since before the miraculous union of our Wedding ceremony.
