The weeks and months leading up to my cast-off from San Francisco were filled with many beautiful gifts. As have the weeks since arriving here on GIN. And they keep coming...
Though we're talking about a time period widely associated with traditional holidays... With the exception of getting funky with Donnie Davis on New Year's Eve, none of these gifts have had anything to do with a traditional holiday... The gifts of hospitality and friendship and human spirit have meant a great deal to me. For sure. Like, all the way... For Sure. As have all the nice voicemails and emails.
And there have been ceremonial-ish, thoughtful, and meditated gifts as well. Some of these keep giving on a very physical level each day. Like the camera Mister and Missus Stiltskin gifted me... Which let me gift my other camera to someone who needed it more than i would.
Another example... A few days before my departure, Mister and Missus Noe had me over for a nice, home-cooked evening meal with their household. This was somewhat ceremonial, but very casual... If you count my furry-armed sport coat and bonobo monkey necktie with a curt brown faux felt hat, as casual. Which, for ceremonial purposes of my own, i wore to the Seventeenth Street entrance of my local police station, and burned a ceremonial "thank you and happy trails" bud, on my walk to their house. A true salutatory puff... Several really. Face on to the camera. With each toke, i was totally wondering if anybody was (or would) ever watching these cameras... Wondering what they would think when they saw a goofy-dressed guy with a big grin converting cannabis to ash, right in front of them.
i was definitely overdressed when i arrived at the Noe's. But i'm all good with being the only wrongly-dressed person, in pretty much any situation. Since it was my very last Monday Nite living in San Francisco, i figured i could easily take advantage of it in numerous places on my way home later. But that was not to be... Not because there weren't places to go, mind you... Because i had my hands and my heart full when i left. Following a family dinner with great conversation and many laughs, a big reusable shopping bag appeared. Great! i totally need shopping bags! (Side Note: One of the things i treasured about living with Miss E was our incredible canvas shopping bag collection.)
Inside the big black bag was a cascade of very intentional gifts. Whoa! Another Bryson. Sweet! Individually handwrapped fly fishing tackle specifically for my section of the river... Well planned... Very nice! And a Leatherman. Where all my other mult-tools are bulky, with numerous functions, this one is slim and has just two functions. A knife and a pair of pliers. This tool has proven to be the third most important tool i have on Gilligan's Island North. In terms of importance in my daily life, it ranks behind only my self and my coffee cup. In use constantly. At least twenty times a day, i pull it from its place on the corner of my pocket, and think of you each time. Thanks a bazillion, you guys!
And there have been many other unexpected, impromptu gifts... Like today. At the Post Office. If you don't know where i am, there's a reason for that. If you do know where i am, that, too, has a reason... Today was Day Sixteen here. Monday. This was my fourth trip to the Post Office in that time. On the third visit, i had picked up an application for a PO Box. This time, i was there to turn the application into an address.
i had met Post Mistress #1 on my first visit. i was dropping off a letter to be mailed. i went inside to scope out what would soon become my quaint, mountain community Post Office. i made small talk with her... General pleasantries... But didn't introduce or talk about myself at all. She had no idea who i was, or anything about me, when i left. Other than she probably thought i was a pleasant guy. Which was exactly the way i wanted it at that point. Today (i have no idea whether she recognized me or not), as soon as i put my completed application on the counter, she exclaimed, "You're Skip Towne"? No sooner did i reply that i was, and she disappeared to the darker corners of the building, telling me over her shoulder, "I was wondering who Skip Towne was... I might have sent some back already... Didn't know who Skip Towne was." Our Post Office is just a tad bigger than Shackteau, so there was no problem hearing her.
She returned with a handful of cards and letters, all addressed to me. In this little non-town with a post office. Some had the name of the community on them. One had just me and a zip code for an address. Not one piece of junk mail. Perfect!
When you have a name like Skip Towne, sometimes it's difficult to earn credibility in a new community. Everyone pauses for at least a moment when they meet you and find out your name for the first time. People raise their eyebrows at you... Some take half a step back and look off to the side for a moment. i've even had people get confrontational on occasion. In order to prevent this slight discomfort on the part of others, if at all possible, i generally only use my first name when making introductions. Hey, unless they're making a check out to me, they probably don't usually to know my last name. And i don't take checks. The Post Office sort of short-circuits this first-name-only practice, though.
In a little place like this, the Post Mistress will know your business like nobody else does. i had been wondering how it was going to go at the Post Office, since before i even got to GIN. i knew that one of the critical pieces to getting established in this community, was going to be my relationship with the Post Mistresses (there are two here).
Let me tell you... When you surface for the first time at a new Post Office - There is absolutely NOTHING like having a stack of love waiting for you to give you instant cred with the Post Mistress. Nothing! There's also nothing like this for making you feel at home... Welcome. And loved.
i cannot begin to tell each of you who sent me things, how deeply touched i am that you did. Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! If you get a Return To Sender in your mailbox... Sorry. i'm touched that you tried... Please resend or, for better service, deliver in person... :) It will definitely get to me either way now...
And there was another gift at the Post Office... i got to choose my PO Box. i made it easy to remember... 269. (Thought i wouldn't?) All you have to remember is Skip Towne To Sixty Nine. Post Mistress #1 was somewhat surprised that i chose a box that cost eight bucks more than the tiny one every six months. "Just 'cause i'm retired don't mean i'm cheap..." The number is significant to me. Can't buy a domain and hosting for sixteen bucks a year, and this is so much more personal than a browser... "Yep. This one's for me..."
Thirty dollars later i was holding two pieces of paper to start my fire with, and two keys. And my stack of mail. The rent on the box was twenty eight buck for six months, and there was a two dollar deposit for the keys. It's been many, many years since i opened an actual PO Box at a Post Office... Had to make sure the keys worked and go touch my new mailbox. Wanted to take a minute and think about how many times i might open it between now and then... How many times will i open that front door, step inside to the left, kneel down, put the key in the lock, and open the little box to see what's inside... "It's probably dusty... Haven't rented those in a long time," i heard from behind the boxes.
Which is so NOT a problem to me! i actually live here now... With dirt on my floor. i sure don't care about a little dust in the mailbox. Key number one worked precisely. So did key number two. i savored the precision of the little lock. One short, firm counterclockwise turn... The pushback of the spring... Always ready to latch my box securely closed until the next time i opened it. The door didn't squeak, as i opened it for the first time in who knows how long. i ran my hands over the front and back of the door. And the edges. Felt the bronze. Studied the cast-work. And i was grateful. Grateful that this place is here. Grateful that i can put down roots here. i turned my attention to the inside. Dust was right! Instinctively i reached inside and began wiping the dust into my cupped left hand. It crossed my mind to ask how long it had been since this box belonged to anybody, but didn't. It didn't really matter. It was mine now.
Another unique gift i've gotten showed up on my doorstep... Literally. On Saturday. After one of the most spiritual dejavu sessions of my life. Our Vision Building party went on a walk to survey some terrain and water-related features of the property here. Two of our guests and i detoured later in the walk to take in some extra details. This entire walk was an incredible dejavu. i haven't walked this part of the property since i landed. But i have walked it before.
i walked it once when Miss E and i were here a few years ago. Much of it several times, in fact. We spent two and a half days walking and crawling and surveying and measuring just about every foot of this place. The images that were imprinted then were many... And covered several senses...
The ones you would guess are visual and maybe smell. And you would be right. But there are a few things about this place that make others stand out, too. Notably sound. You can hear the river from all over the property. It sounds different from place to place, of course, but it's always there. White noise in the background. Touch is another. This place feels unique. The air and the ground and the trees and the water... And last, but definitely not least, that extra sensory sense, spirit. The combination of all these dimensions really affected me. In an extraordinarily positive and profound way.
Since being here with Miss E, i have walked these roads and woods and paths every day in my mind. In vivid detail. Some part of this place every single day... When i first arrived a couple weeks ago, i had many little dejavus... Which passed as i settled in and covered the more common areas frequently. But Saturday was a little different. For starters, it was a fairly long walk with many little stops along the way. It also happened to be in the forested areas. Where each of the senses is highly stimulated. It's also where i found myself walking most frequently in my mind for all those years.
The sensation of dejavu and wonderment went on for hours. Pumping my soul full of fresh air appreciation for the land. Appreciation for being here. Again. Let's just say it was familiar and spiritually rejuvenating and at least a little bit trippy.
Shackteau is alongside the road which everybody walked out of the backcountry on. The main group had walked out earlier than my Portlander companions and i. When i got to Shackteau, there was a giant knife on my front step. Pointed at my door. i wondered if it was a sign... And, if it was a sign, was it friendly or threatening? I picked it up, studied it, then set it back down on the step. Off to the side of the door. Where it has stayed. Until today.
When i got home with my letters, the spirit of the knife called out to me... "i am your letter opener. Use me..." And so i did. i still don't know where my new letter opener came from, or if it came in peace or war. i do know that, whatever spirit it came with, the spirits of Shackteau and Gilligan's Island North have transformed it into a peace and beauty loving letter opener that just can't wait to open more letters!
A GIANTASTIC HEARTFELT THANK YOU to everybody!
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