Over Donner to Frigid San Francisco. And home.

Hello from San Francisco.

My final leg of the trip was a brief 200 miles from Reno to San Francisco. I'm not sure I need to do anymore consecutive 12- hour, 550 mile days of driving anytime soon. And, please, I mean this with absolutely no disrespect, but I don't feel an urgency to drive anywhere between Pennsylvania and Wyoming. I LOVE the east coast, love the wild and mountainous west, and the beautiful Pacific Coast. Sure, I've had the odd, fun time in Chicago, (some odder than others), but I just feel a need to be near a coast. I get all sorts of claustrophobic mid-country, pining for the fjords of Cape Cod, the willows of San Pedro.

The day was off to a questionable start with snows accumulating in Reno (kind of unusual) and talk of high winds in Truckee. Luckily, I'm not nervous about driving in snow. Now, driving rains and assholes continuing to drive 85 mph while hydroplaning and talking on the cell phone, now THAT freaks me out. Snow, go slow. Rain? Big assed pain.

Lex, David's 13 year old Siberian Husky foster, and spry 10 year old Nomad came out to see me off. David had gone to an appointment, so I said I might be seeing him if Truckee was having a chain rule in effect. Budget doesn't allow you to put chains on their trucks and will give you extra free days if you need them.

I looked forward to getting snowed in at Donner Pass. I figured I was all set--Fugee was good for a month of delicious Weimar brisket and ears salad. Turns out I didn't need to chow the pooch; the sun came out at Donner Summit, so I could see the Sierras in all their pines and gloryhole splendor.

Stopped in Sacramento to have a lunch with my dear friend from Virgin days, Dana. We were compatriots and commiserators at Virgin, a little bemused and amused that we had been hired into the positions of importance at a major tastemaker brand. Many a lunch was spent over salads, scratch our heads and thinking, "What the fuck and how the hell did we end up doing this??!""

Dana is working for an amazing not-for-profit in Sacramento which provides essential services to the homeless population. More than anything else, the dignity and respect for the clients really shown through. Dana works for a group which helps homeless men and women in getting clean and sober. Hey if you wanna find out more, go to http://clean-and-sober.org/. Maybe send them some money in a check form—you know money & the mail. And say, “Howdy, Dana!”

You may think, “Wow, good cause, but that couldn’t really happen to me…” Any one of us could end up in a homeless situation, it's deluded to think that "it could never happen to me." It could.

I remember my mom relating the agony of losing my brother Bruce in a house fire shortly before his second birthday. She had said she always thought that those things were the kind of tragedies that "happened to other people." I still very clearly remember her turning to me while she was driving, and looking me in the eyes for emphasis.

"There are no 'other people' that these things happen to. There are just people."

This story came back to me often as I was wandering through the devastation of losing my mom to cancer at 53. How could she be sick? Cancer?! She taught aerobics classes, water exercises, bellydancing. Took New Age jogging classes (way before New Age—in the ‘70s!) where you were instructed to run with “soft eyes” “to have sponges for knees” and to hug trees on Boston Common. She performed, volunteered, became spiritual, sold Shaklee vitamins, made drastic changes to hers (and our) diets, by adopting horrific healthy ingredients, swearing off sugar, making us eat “cookies” made from sawdust, wren poop and brewer’s yeast, “because they’re good for you!” Nothing struck terror into our minds and hearts like hearing Mom say, “Ohh, I just made these delicious, nutritious brownies!”

“Great, Mom! But I think I’ll need a big glass of stone ground whole wheat flour to wash them down and slake my thirst!”

Cancer. Mom? How? She was probably the single most compassionate, giving, strong person I have ever known.

There are no “other people”. Just us. People. Compassion is the glue of humanity.

I often think, "How the HELL did I get so lucky to have such a wonderful family? Such extraordinary friends?" Truly blessed in every regard.

Okay, enough of Uncle Craig’s Golden Nostalgia Tent Revival and Dog Wash.
I left Sacramento around 3:30, a little later than I intended, as I was hoping to avoid rush hour traffic. Wasn’t really a concern. With California’s big, flat, bazillion laned-, comfy freeways, it was smooth sailing.

Sun was just starting to set as I crossed the Bay Bridge, feeling a warm nostalgia at the beauty of this little dense pocket of buildings by the Bay. Was it an “I’m home!” feeling? No, not really. I don’t know that my restless soul feels at home anywhere. In my emails from India, I remember relating that I felt right at home in bustling Mumbai, not knowing a soul or Hindi, and had felt extremely foreign at a party of my friends in Silverlake.

Isn’t it fun reading my saga of self-absorption? I am of the mindset (today—probably different tomorrow) that one does need to attain a level of self-absorption in order to let go of it and have any chance at attaining awakeness. That would be awake-ness as in enlightenment or understanding, not awakeness as in Starbuck’s venti quad nonfat latte, my heart-attack-in-a-cup drink of choice on this trip.

Sabrina was waiting to greet me and help me joyfully unload the truck and get situated with my apartment and storage. Funny and fitting, as she was at my 18th Street place at 1 AM on a school night, helping me load the truck for CT. Life is all a perfect circle.

Had a nice surprise in returning the truck on Friday. I assumed I would have to pay an extra day since I had overrun my allotted time. I got to Budget and there was no charge because I had rented at 11:00 AM on the 31st, it wasn’t due to Budget until 10:59 AM of the 12TH. A nice, $99 savings from Budget.

Turned in the truck and Fugee and I walked back to the hotel from way down by the original Sports Basement. It was a beautiful, crystal clear day and a good 4 mile walk. Fugee pulled me hard right up to the SPCA’s door. Still remembers going to work with David there.

Aside from Fugee’s usual game of “Don’t let me eat the chicken bones or human poop” in the Mission, a refreshing, welcoming return to the Bay. Passed a sign which made me chuckle to be amongst the freaks in the Bay.

Elle, Sabrina’s mom, and my new boss, created a fantastic living space for me and Fugee. What a kind soul she is. I am very much looking forward to the new adventure and to the developing friendship.

I’ll update in a few days. I have a warren of boxes which makes movement through my apartment like an intricate tango of passion. Should probably unpack and stay a while.

Namaste/Peace
Craig