Playing Fair and Being Kind

SHE ESCAPED FROM ANOTHER WORLD

Now she lives in Georgia of all places!

I left Spring City, Tennessee on the morning of the 7^th of February. I was packed into the car with all of my things minus the case of dark beer from Maine. I left that as a gift for Tim. Tim is a skilled welder and works for the nuke plant south of Spring City. He is Nicole’s husband and he tolerates my visits very well. I like his work ethic and he makes Nicole happy which is most important to me. Tim and Nicole have had me as a house guest two times. They don’t seem to mind my presence. I am happy in their home. I drive away from them with no sense of sadness. I know I will be back and we have planned on meeting in Maine next year during their ten-year reunion vacation trip.

I’m going to Marietta, Georgia to meet up with a good, good friend. Rae and I have been telephone pals for nearly a year. We have talked weekly for a long time and in that time my attitude and her’s have changed radically. You see, both of us are capable of highs and lows and we both have been recovering from traumatic life issues through most of our existence. Through our talks over many months I have come to the realization we are alike in our fears, doubts, and insecurities. Our conversations have been soothing for me and Rae has developed a sense of self in regard to reaching out as well as expressing her need for space and time away from our regular calls. We agree this is so and I am happy that I’ve been a part of her gains over this time with our telephone relationship.

Driving in this part of the country can be gentle and sometimes I get bored with the interstate travel. This trip gives me a break from all that as I travel along state highway 29 through Dayton, Sale Creek, and Red Bank to Chattanooga. Chattanooga is not pronounced as it looks. Take if from me. I heard the most correct pronunciation from Mary Esther Shaw, Nicole’s mom. Most people say, “Chadda-nooga”. Go ahead, say it. Chadda-nooga. Wrong! Now listen to this; the correct way, from Polk County and from Monroe County is “Chat-n-ooga”. Go ahead, say it that way from now on. Chat-n-ooga.

To continue, I drove along Tennessee 29 down through Red Bank to Chattanooga. I stopped for a quick meet-up with Ashley Sloane whom I know from the Red Cup in Boothbay, Maine. She’s from Chattanooga and has moved here with her boyfriend who is a Mainer. We call her Sloane. Sloane paid for my orange juice and we sat outside in the sun and talked it up for 45 minutes or so until my ‘git up and go’ kicked in so we said goodbyes.

I left Chattanooga and after driving back and forth over the Tennessee River a few times I left the state and headed south on I 75. I’m looking forward to seeing Rae. It is going to be surreal. After building trust and sharing our experiences for so long we have become quite accustomed to the telephone and its built in security. No touching, no smells, no searching looks. Just a private sit or stand atmosphere of come as you please. We won’t have the convenience of not having to look interested and not be able to yawn or close our eyes in private while the other is speaking. But, what a great feeling it is to anticipate the actual presence and feel and smells and side eye looks at each other that we have not had before. I’m sure she is feeling as anxious and as excited as I.

Rae meets me at her house. The house is in a nice neighborhood just outside Marietta, a few blocks off a busy thoroughfare. She is just learning the lay of the land here and things are working well for her and her son Oliver. He is a delightful young boy and I make friends with him quickly. Rae and I decide to go out for dinner to a pizza place that seems popular. She has not been there yet so we have fun exploring the menu and dinner with a young boy is typically awkward and a minor battle. “Here, eat this.” “No, I don’t want to.” “Try it.” “I don’t like pizza.” Etc. and so forth. We get through the meal and Oliver eats his share later at home.

Our whole time together is a repeat of our phone. We talk easily and openly and quite frankly. There is only a touch of hesitation but that disappears soon as the trust is gained. I like Rae. She is an attractive young woman who is brilliant, capable, educated and fearless. Rae has had her share of limitations established by others. She has survived and is quietly establishing her place. I like her a great deal and I really like her abilities to survive. I don’t want to say more because what we share is private and the information is privileged.

Thank you, Rae for being a really lovely, true friend. I am proud of what we have achieved together and separately.

Rae and I share a few days together like this. We take pictures of each other and Oliver at the park the next day. We shop and get cranky and we open that up for each other and grit our way through it all. I could spend a lot of time in her company and be fully at ease with our similar incapacity for dealing with each other. We had fun. Our shared interest in making home-made hummus fell apart while we were shopping for the ingredients. No problem. We bought hummus and things to dip into it and left the store. Geniuses at work.

When we got home to her house it was decided that we ought to separate and say goodbye. I know I felt complete and I hope she did as well. We took selfies on the couch with Oliver for our friends to see and for our own keepsakes. Hugging Rae is to fall in love. Tall and strong and beautiful to hold. A great hugger! I leave.

We say goodbyes in the driveway. I slip into the SAAB and return to my quarters at the Air Force base nearby. Next day I leave for Montgomery, Alabama and another military installation where I have reservations for one night layover before going on to New Orleans. I’ll have a lot of time to reflect on this visit, its implications on my life and on Rae’s. I will reflect on how easy it is for me to love the people I meet and how easy I love them with no attachment. I am a lucky dog.

I’m tacking on a poem I wrote today after seeing a photograph of footprints in snow outside a shelter in NYC. The prints left by people mingling and searching for warmth and comfort so triggered me that this just jumped onto the page. I hope you like it.

FOOTPRINTS IN THE SNOW

At the Shelter

A pallet of chill

On a cement world,

Overspread with snow,

Fresh as a morning breeze,

That lowers the core

Temperature toward zero.

People shuffle, trudge along

Toward a gateway for heat,

Small steps, small hopes,

Edging away or toward,

Unsure, candles within

Struggle against desperation.

A story written with soles,

Prints in the snow,

One by one by two and three,

All mingle and mask to share

Their presence on record to

Pronounce our ignorance.

Where do they go and

Why do we let them,

Hold out the gift to these

Who press their signatures,

Hold them close and then

Closer.

G.M. Goodwin

10 February 2015