My little runaway.

Jim called me yesterday to ask if I was getting religion all of a sudden? Guy can't even post a little Mormon Tabernacle Choir without people thinking he is going off the deep end. It is okay to like gospel and spirituals without feasting on the whole religious enchilada, isn't it? I guess I did invite it, asking those so inclined to invoke a prayer for my friend.

I apologize for the dark and depressing tone that the blog has taken of late but it has been that kind of month. Two friends' father's dying, friends with diagnosis of lymphoma, valley fever and multiple sclerosis, lots of good friends going through the shit right now. Many back surgeries in my world, too. People, we are falling apart.

Yesterday I decided that it was time to visit my father, who lives in a geographic location that can best be described as extremely inconvenient. About six or seven hours each way, depending on how beat up I want to feel at the end of the journey.

I got up at 4:30 and left at 6 in the morning. Thought I had it nailed when I made Glendora in an hour ten Then I hit a solid wall of traffic and didn't get to Pasadena for another hour. Did my normal pitstop at Whole Foods and listened to a mixture of oldies music and sports radio on my way up through the Grapevine.

Once you get to the bottom of the Grapevine and into Kern County everything changes and you truly enter another land. Radio turns into god and country and lots of it. Maybe an occasional rap or hip hop station. The rock stations out in the great beyond are pretty unlistenable as well. Never gets out of the macho, alpha, Aerosmith, Maiden groove. I hadn't brought much music and only had Dylan cd's in the car and they started to make me feel ill after a while.

Kern and Tulare counties and the whole central valley for that matter is extremely polluted. The air is horrible, there are pesticides everywhere, the breadbasket of our nation a fetid corporate swamp. I looked at rows and rows of grape vines covered with dust and dirt and wondered what kind of vintages could ever come out of such a shithole.

***

As I believe I have mentioned, my father is suffering from dementia and it appears to be accelerating somewhat. His wonderful wife, my stepmother, is dealing with it as best as she can but it is not easy. He is in a home, using up the limited (two year) long term care that they had allotted for the possibility. The reality is that he could live a lot longer than that, he has the constitution of a horse. That would not be necessarily a good thing.

My stepmother is shouldering my father's burden largely by herself, the rest of the children scattered to all points of the compass and maybe not having an excessive amount of interest. Barbara and Buzz have their hands full with my mother. My stepmother threatens to drop my dad off at my doorstep one day.

***

He brightened up when he saw me yesterday afternoon. Shela had brought him home from the facility to see me. He was laying down in bed and I helped him put his shoes on. Couldn't quite put his finger on it, didn't know my name, but he was sure that he recognized me from somewhere. His mnemonic incantation of "old man, old man, old man, schnaim" is now repeated as an ever present but quiet mantra. I hugged him and smiled and talked to him about the details of our life together, in hopes of piercing the cognitive chasm of unfamiliarity. I spoke in english and hebrew, hoping to break through some long distant mental chamber. Nothing worked. It was still nice to be in his presence. He is sweet in his dotage, maybe a bit nicer than when he had full control of his faculties. I love him and feel incredible sadness at what he has become.

It is difficult emotionally to see a father or a mother reduced to this, especially a man as brilliant as my father. The visit drained me. Everything that has come down the last couple weeks has been wearing on me and I got a wild hair and decided that I had to cut and run. My soul needed air. Like right now. I began to drive the few hours to Yosemite and commenced my journey to get lost in the wild. It is what I  do to recharge, works in the Sierras, works in slick rock country and the navajo reservation. Kauai as well when I can afford it.

I drove up the south entrance to Yosemite, past the Mariposa Grove, the old resort Wawona and through the tunnel and into Yosemite Valley. The tunnel is pretty awesome because the rocks are sweating and it's very wet and moist in certain spots going through the tunnel.

I had not been to Yosemite for ages and it was stunning. Last time I entered from Lee Vining. I had been told not to expect water in either falls at this late time but they were both running nicely. Gazed at El Cap and Bridle Veil and hiked around a bit. My legs were sore from hammering an accelerator all day and the muscle behind my right knee was bulging and taught like a sprung cable. Coupled with the thin mountain air and my current cardiac conditioning, I sort of limped and lumbered up the trails to the falls in a bit of pain like an old man.

I was walking in the meadow when I saw the bear. He was limping along himself, hunting insects or grubs. I don't think that I have ever seen a bear in the wild. He seemed like a good sort, happy to solipsistically amble along in his own company. A few rangers came by, one with a microphone that amplified the bear's utterances, somehow being connected to a transmitter. He told me that it was rare to see the bear at this particular location. This bear is named orange -36. He is a black bear and about eight years old and has a leg injury of some kind. Bears are solitary creatures after the age of one or two and this guy weighed about 300 lbs. We moved back so that he could cross the boardwalk and to give him space. The ranger estimated that he was about 20 yards away.

I walked over to the stately old Ahwannee Hotel to look at the large Gunnar Widforss watercolors and see if there might be a room cancellation. There were not and I was advised there was no other vacancy in the park. This was problematic, as I wanted to take some twilight photos in the park. But these were not the least of my problems. A notoriously poor planner and packer I had no gas, underwear, food, water, toothbrush, hairbrush, clothes, cash. Heart medicine for one night. No overnight bag. Nothing. And to make matters worse, I hadn't checked the camera battery and it too was on e.

I had the light bulb realization that I didn't really care. I would sleep in my car if I had too, I have certainly slept in worse places. I had a coat. I was content. The untouched beauty of the iconic national park had given me a little respite from my funk and all of my friend's medical travails. It was all good and I had even seen a bear.

I coasted the thirty or so miles out of the park, passing a very confident coyote striding the other way at one point. I made my way back to a filling station in Oakhurst and found a cheap hotel. Managed to find a restaurant and bought a steak with plastic. I got up early this morning and drove back to my stepmothers, saw my stepsister's kid Bennett, and then went to see my father in the home. He seemed out of touch with his surroundings but no worse for wear and we had a nice visit. He mentioned that he didn't believe that we had ever met.

It took all day to drive back. I can't believe that I ended up in Yosemite but I almost drove to San Francisco and that is even farther. BigD had his first chemo today. Took four attempts before they could remove a sufficient amount of bone marrow from him. I don't envy my friend. I have been there and many get cut down just by the constant invasion and attrition. Of course my bud is tough as nails. If anyone can beat this it is him. 

I stopped in Bakersfield and bought a painting on the way home. Took forever to get back.

Next time I bring my wife with me and we get a nice room and stay a couple of days. Bring provisions and a toothbrush. The proper photographic equipment. Want to drive out to Glacier Point and hike a bit more and explore the area. I had forgotten how wonderful Yosemite truly is. Next stop Yellowstone.