OK. Here we go.

Once, when driving home from Montana after that first summer in Glacier Park. The Summer I met Cole and the Jesus freaks, and Steph, who saw me in the bar just off the south end of the reservation and claimed me despite clear instability. The summer Joe and I pulled up to the park concessioners with no plan and no prior contact at the apex of where we ran out of gas, money, food and ideas. The summer, after driving clear to Phoenix straight out of New Brunswick immediately following my final written exam. After sleeping on park benches roadside with a can of mace and an 18” blade under a pillow of balled up underwear. The summer after driving highway 1 clear from LA up through the Olympic peninsula, stopping only to camp or visit the bars and play pool in search of a sign. After repairing the piece of shit Escort in 118 degree heat right out of the gates in Phoenix, after Joe’s far more reliable vehicle had been repo’d despite valiant efforts to mask its location and identity. Back in the summer when I collected the address of every acquaintance fully intending to maintain consistent personal relationships with each of them as the years passed. The summer Cole and I hiked clear through hole-in-the-wall pass, camped in the valley some 12 miles below with failed cooking gear, lack of warmth and general unpreparedness, re-ascending in the heat of the northern summer sun over permanent snow fields and deep streams on blistered feet, ankles swollen from mosquito bites, clear out running the final 4 miles in the rain unannounced into Canada, Cole’s virgin trip to foreign soil. That Summer when driving east between Billings and the North Dakota Badlands I picked up a hitchhiker along route 90, dropped him off at the following exit after sensing a madness and continued the remainder of the way silent, alternating the radio between pop, metal and AM talk as the signal took.

Barend (Big B) called back. He always calls twice. He’ll ring the cell, I don’t answer, the phone stops ringing, two minutes later the voice mail buzzes, I click to acknowledge, immediately he tries again, the phone buzzes four times or so and I answer. “Barend, how are you?” “Hi Daniel, I’m well. How’s the weather there? How’s the weather there in Rochester?” This is how my grandmother used to answer, “How’s the weather there in X?” “Oh, it’s beautiful here. It went from winter to fecund and gorgeous and it’s been just beautiful for about two weeks now.” “So what’s happening with your case?” “I’m a born again Christian now.” Uh oh. “Oh yea?!” “That’s good, you find some folks to talk to then?” “Do you remember that guy Leigh?” “He used to hit me and be angry with me and I never said anything to anyone about that and I think I got angry because I never said anything about that.” Leigh and Barend showed up unannounced one day in Jackson Hole. It was an awkward time, I had just moved into a rented room in a cabin in Wilson on the road out to the mountain village after my girlfriend had left and was uncomfortable about everything. Those guys stayed the night, Leigh puked in the bathroom. The next morning I sent them off and scrubbed the house down from fear. That Leigh guy was definitely not right. I felt so bad that when Jane returned (the owner, well the girlfriend of the owner, Becky, who was in school in Boulder at the time) I told her and we weren’t right after that. Way to start a new life. “Yea, like one time I told Leigh not to pick the pine nuts and to stay in the car and he went and picked the pine nuts and I told him not to but he just never listened and he picked the pine nuts and then he got caught and yelled at and he just walloped me one for no reason.” “I mean I told him to just stay in the car but he got out anyway and I didn’t deserve to get hit for that.” “No way. No one deserves to get hit Barend unless you both agree to fight.” “Do you pray?” he asks. “Yes I pray,” I tell him. “I go to church sometimes but not always, but I pray.” “Well, I pray now and I ask for help from Jesus.” Demons hit my mind. Despite this, I couldn’t for the life of me be anything but supportive. “That’s good.” “We have fellowship after church and I go down there and not everyone stays but I stay and we have fellowship after.” “Well that’s good Barend. It sounds like you have some new friends to talk to and you are working things out.” “Yea, I’m just looking forward now.” “She dropped the assault charge but I can’t leave the state for two years so I won’t be going anywhere.” “Are you coming out here anytime soon?” I go through my usual roundabout to the tune of I want to and may be but I won’t know because I could be back in Florence in the fall and I’ve got a bunch to work out but I want to. So I could be out there within the year but it depends on how things work out here. I felt depressed. “You know if I come out we are going to have to spend a few days, maybe hike or something, have a few beers.” “Yea,” Barend says laughing. “Well, it sounds like you are on your way to something new. Talking about things. You gotta keep doing that.” Then we shoot the shit for a while, run over the same ground. “Well, I shouldn’t keep you from what you were doing.” He always says this when it’s time to go. “It’s Ok Barend. We’ll talk again soon so.” Then we hung up.