Tahoe
South Lake Tahoe looks ridiculous when you approach it via Highway
50 from either direction. It sits in a basin at the top of a very large
mountain. It is a very large natural lake. Everyone knows that it is nowhere
near the size of a great lake, or even the Great Salt Lake a few hundred miles
to the east, but when you are right there near the lake it really feels like an
inland ocean. It is impossibly blue and impossibly deep. Scientists estimate
that if Lake Tahoe were somehow drained, say to water crops in the fertile
valleys down either side of the Sierra Nevada range, it would take more than
seven hundred years for the lake to refill naturally. Lake Tahoe is easily the
most beautiful lake I have ever seen.
I was approaching Tahoe from the west, the cliff side. Highway
50 leaves Sacramento as a freeway, passes through outlying bedroom communities,
past historic Folsom and the posh El Dorado Hills and into the old mining town
of Placerville. There’s a stoplight there and once you pass it the highway
winds as a two lane road up, up, and up the Sierra Nevadas. In March the
snowline could be anywhere. Eventually you climb past that magical elevation
and the forest becomes a frozen wonderland. In this year of drought the snowline
was particularly high. It was warm and even the deepest of snows were melting,
first out of trees, then off deep-mulched soils, but clinging still to rocks
and anything in the shade. By the time I reached the edge of the cliff where
the highway begins a sharp zigzag down into the Tahoe basin the sun was high
and the view was breathtaking. It always is.
There was no snow in the basin this March save for a few
traces hidden in shadows behind the dumpsters of the restaurants, hotels, and
casinos which line the highway in the not-so-twin towns of South Lake Tahoe,
California and Stateline, Nevada, which occupy the flat land on the south side
of the enormous lake. The California side looks like any mountain lake resort
town in America might look, log buildings with dark green roofs, easy parking
and breathtaking views from any perspective. The Nevada side looks like Las
Vegas, but with far better views. Every time I drive through there I wonder why
anyone ever goes to Las Vegas, when they could be at Lake Tahoe instead. I suppose
it is easier to justify staying inside all day and night when you know there is
nothing worth looking at outside.
Twelve hours earlier I had been in Midtown Sacramento, as
usual, sitting on the porch at Carlyle’s, as usual, drinking beers with a couple
of my closest friends, as usual.
“Why are you going to Carson?” Mack asked me.
“It has to be done. For one thing my sister needs me. She is
all alone up there with her one-eyed dog and she doesn’t like to go out by
herself. She needs someone to show her a good time. She still isn’t over that
terrible breakup she had last year and she needs to see that the world is full
of good people and fun times.”
“Yes I recall hearing all about that breakup last time she
was here.”
“And for another thing, I need to get out of town. I just
need a change of scenery but also I need to start setting a precedent with my
kids, so they know I am not always available to fetch them what they want and
drive them where they want to go, particularly when it is supposed to be their
weekend with their mother. They can hassle me next weekend.”
Mack says “Dad of the year over here” as we clink our
half-empty pints together.
“Word.”
Mexican Gulch
When I arrived at Jaime’s place she and Mike were just
getting ready to leave for their regular Saturday walk. They had been waiting
for me to arrive. She knows I like to walk. The three of us climbed into her
new truck, a stark-white four-wheel drive model with big tires which, when
viewed directly from the front, looks remarkably similar to one of Lucas’ storm
troopers. Driving a truck like that is a good way to fit in when you live in a
place like Carson City.
“How are you not a lesbian?” I asked as we approached the
truck from the front, it was backed into a parking space. It looked to me like
it was showing off just sitting there.
“Shut-up asshole.” She laughed as she punched me on the arm.
Mike climbed into a little basket strapped about midway up
the back of the rear passenger side seat. That’s the side on which he also has
his eye. I suppose his basket might be on the driver’s side if his eye was on
that side of his head. Mike is small but he still likes to look out the window,
and apparently he prefers to be comfortable while he does.
“I’m so glad you are here” Jaime said to me as we drove
through town. “I don’t get many visitors. I have so many things I want to show
you. I mean things out here I think are cool, stuff I like to do, and I think
you will like them also. I really have been having a lot of fun trying new
things since last time you were here. Mike and I have a lot of time on our
hands.”
We pulled up a gravel road and parked near what looked like
a small house and stables. It was some kind of working museum. We dismounted
from the truck.
“This is all BLM land around here, this whole end of the
valley, and all of it is open to the public. Mike and I like to walk up to the
dam over here. Over there by the house you can sometimes see owls in the trees.
Wait it looks like there might be one up there now.”
We looked way up at the tops of the trees and instinctively
began walking toward them, owl hunting. Mike suddenly stopped to drop a load on
the gravel.
“Really Mike? Here?”
We paused and waited for him.
“We will pick that up on our way back out.” Jaime said, to
Mike, not to me. We never picked it up.
We walked a small arc from the truck around near the house
and stared up at the tops of the trees which someone no doubt carefully and
lovingly planted in the front yard of the farmhouse a long time ago. There were
no other trees like these around. The high Nevada desert does not produce a lot
of trees, and the trees it does sustain naturally do not grow this tall. These
cottonwoods were probably a hundred feet tall. Their roots had found the well.
“Do you see it? Up there in the center near the top, it
looks like a little clump of dead mistletoe, like a disease.”
I saw it. There was definitely an owl up there. It was a gray
one, with a white beard and brows.
“It seems like it should be all white this time of year.
It’s rare to see an owl during the day. I always come here hoping to see one. I
think it is good luck. I always feel like if I see an owl out here I am going
to have a good week.”
I didn’t mention that in almost every world culture that has
known them, owls have been interpreted as a foreboding omen of some kind. I
didn’t see the point. Jaime’s owl was good luck.
We walked away down a gravel path that turned to a dirt
road. The road followed an irrigation ditch. A couple miles down there was a
pedestal holding a plaque. The plaque held a story. It was an historical marker
describing historic Mexican Gulch.
“This is all historic out here. These gulches and dams were
designed and built by the miners in the 1800s. They irrigated this whole valley
so they could grow crops.”
“Yes I think I have read all about it. Mark Twain spent a
significant amount of time in this area. He had mining interests all through
here when he was a young man. He was the editor of the paper in Virginia City.
He wrote volumes about his adventures around here. I just finished reading the
first half of his autobiography.”
“Oh yeah I was going to tell you that when Mike and I were
out walking in town the other day we passed an old house that had a sign on it
saying Mark Twain lived here.”
“I believe it. He wrote about renting a number of different
rooms. He was the kind of guy who liked to move around a lot anyway. Sort of
like us, like the way Mom and Dad always wanted to move someplace new every few
years, and they raised us to feel that urge.”
“Do you really think this place is cool or are you just
fucking with me?”
“No I really do think it is cool. I like to walk. I am
always interested in history, and Mexican gulches are some of my favorite types
of gulches.”
“You are such a nerd. Did Mark Twain really write volumes
about this area?”
“One of my favorite of his novels chronicles his adventures
here in Carson City, Virginia City, trips to Sacramento and Tahoe. He even has
a chapter about passing through Salt Lake City on his way out here in the 1860s
which is really hilarious. His brother was secretary of the Nevada Territory
appointed by President Lincoln. Twain came west with him just for the fuck of
it. He lived here several years.”
“Is it a true story? You called it a novel.”
“Well I guess like anything Twain wrote it is largely
autobiographical. But there are definitely elements of fiction. My favorite
passage is one where he describes watching a buffalo climb a tree. He swears it
happened but that’s what I love so much about Twain. Clearly that part is
fiction. The book is called Roughing It
and it has been in and out of print over the years, I think because it is
insanely racist against American Indians, but there are copies around.”
“A buffalo climbing a tree?”
“Yeah, it’s pretty funny.”
My phone rang. Caller ID suggested it was my teenage son
Langston. It wasn’t.
“Hello? You need what? I can’t do it. No I can’t do it. I am
not in town. I am not even in the state. Tomorrow afternoon. That’s the best I
can do. Whatever.”
Mike, Jaime and I walked on.
“Is everything ok? Does Langston need you?”
“That wasn’t Langston. That was a ruse intended to get me to
answer my phone. But everything is fine.
People just seem to have a problem
with me not being around, even for a little while.”
“Oh. Man that sucks that you have to deal with that all the
time. Still I am glad that you are here. So is Mike.”
Mike didn’t give a shit.
“So Mom and Dad are still talking about moving.”
“I know” I laughed “I don’t think they are just thinking
about it, though that’s what they keep saying. They have decided. They are just
trying to bring the rest of us along.”
“They are cleaning stuff out of the house to get ready for
moving. Mom says she wants to have a kids’ day for us to all come over and get
our stuff. Apparently we all still have a bunch of stuff at their house. I
think you are right, they have definitely decided. They even went to church in
the new place, to see what it is like.”
“When Mom and Dad go to church in a new place it means they
are moving there.”
“I wish they would move here. They could buy such a nice
house, and I could drive them to all their appointments. And they love Mike.
But Mom doesn’t like it here. She says it’s not green enough.”
“Yeah I think that’s why they want to move south to the
Delta. It’s a lower cost of living and still green. Though it won’t help Mom’s
fear of flood. Dad tells me he is pretty sure they can sell the big house for
enough money to pay cash for a smaller place down there. That’s what he is
worried about now that he is retired. He still has five years left on the
mortgage. “
“It’s crazy to move away
from your children when you are their age.”
“That’s a really good point.”
“I wish they would come here. They could buy a really nice
house here for cash and still have plenty of money in the bank.”
“That’s true. And it isn’t so far away that the rest of us
wouldn’t see them nearly as much as we do now. I know my kids would love an
excuse to drive over the mountains to see Grandma and Grandpa. I think all the grandkids would.”
“Right?”
“But then again, I don’t know how many chances in life
parents ever get to move away from their kids. I can’t say for sure I wouldn’t
do the same thing if I had the opportunity.”
“You are such a nerd.”
We finished walking to the dam. Then we walked back to her
truck.
The Archer in the
Hills
“We need to go find my friend George. He loaned me some
trail maps and I need to get them back to him. He is a really cool guy. He took
me out bow shooting a couple weeks ago. He’s Indian and I don’t know what it
is, but he is very mellow. He has what I think is this very Indian way about
him.”
“Right on. Where do we find him?”
“I know he is up in these hills over here somewhere shooting
today. So we will just go off-road for a while and find him. I think I know
where he will be. I love driving around up here. There’s hardly anyone else
around.”
We left the paved road for a gravel one. Soon the gravel
gave way to soft, clean, beige dirt. It looked like it had been recently placed
to cover the erosion of the winter just barely past. We stopped and shifted the
truck into four-wheel-drive. We continued.
“It was so good for me to get out shooting with him. I
really needed to get out with new people and try new things and he convinced
me. I think you will like him. He works in Indian affairs. He meets with all the
local tribes and bands. He knows all the history of all the native peoples in
this area. He showed me all around and explained everything and told me all
these great stories, some really sad stories. Do you know a lot about the
history of Native Americans?”
“I took a couple courses in college, one on Native American
History, and one on Native Californian History. And I have watched a lot of
documentaries. I know more about California Indians than I do about others.”
“It’s really sad. Anyway I told him I wanted to explore all
these hills around here in my truck and he has all these maps of trails and
different historic sites and things around here. It was really cool of him to
lend them to me. I have had them for a while. I need to return them today.”
“Ok. I am up for whatever. I don’t have any particular
agenda today. I am interested though at some point going to get some food and
some beers.”
“Do you want to go back to the place we went last time?”
“No let’s try something new while I am out here. I am sure
there are other places in town with good beer. And I can more or less always
find something to eat.”
“Oh we can go to that Eastern Sierra place. That’s right
downtown.”
“Sounds good.”
We crawled and bumped along over the soft dirt, some large
boulders, up hills and down, looking for an Indian named George. We found him.
“There he is. Oh good. Don’t you think it is funny that I
can just go four-wheeling through the hills to find a friend of mine? I think
that’s funny.”
“It is definitely something new for me. I have never driven
around off-road in the hills of the desert to find a friend.”
We pulled in front of a red pickup. It was a full-size
longbed model. Jaime let Mike out. She walked to where George was standing with
his bow in hand, hay-bale targets set up slightly downhill in the distance
behind him. He had watched us approach.
“Hey there!” He said to Jaime. He did not seem surprised to
see her. He petted Mike, who was already at his feet.
“How’s the shooting going?” She asked him. He told her.
Apparently it was not as well as he had hoped.
“This is my brother. He is out visiting from Sacramento.”
He shook my hand. “Good to know you. Getting away for the
weekend?”
“You could say that. It’s always fun to come to Carson and
hang out with my big sister.”
“I have your maps. We came to return them. Thanks again for
loaning them to me.”
He dropped the maps on the open tailgate of his truck, among
bags of gear, some loose arrows, binoculars, a thermos and a coffee cup. He was
drinking the coffee. We made some more small talk. They talked about work. He
asked me about my job. I told him about it. After just a few minutes we were on
our way again, over the hills and far away. The maps had been safely delivered.
“He seems like a nice guy. Has he invited you out to church
yet?”
“What? What do you mean?”
“If he hasn’t I think he will soon.”
“I don’t think he’s religious. But I don’t know actually. When
he first wanted to take me out shooting I freaked out a little. I mean he is
married, he is higher up than me at work, he knows about my break-up, and he
was taking me essentially out to the wilderness.”
“Those all seem like reasonable concerns.”
“But he is very nice. After a while I realized that it was
nothing like that. He just wants to be my friend.”
“That’s how they get you. They find the vulnerable people
dealing with tragedy and heartache and they offer them a sense of purpose and
something greater. I think the mannerisms you read as being Indian are really
just conservative Christian mannerisms. That’s how he immediately came across
to me. Everything about him screams conservative Christian, probably
evangelical.”
“I guess I do know he goes to church regularly. But I really
don’t think that’s it. I think we have similar interests and he wants to be my
friend. That’s all.”
“Maybe he wants to bang you but he is still working up to
it.”
“No. He is happily married. I do know that much.”
“It’s cute that you think that makes a difference.”
“What do you mean?”
“It doesn’t. I am pretty sure his motivations are either to
bang you or to bring you into the fold. In fact you should be more suspicious
if you find out they are anything else. Those two things would be normal.”
“You are nuts.”
“Yeah. And maybe I am wrong also.”
“I think you are.”
We made it back to paved roads.
“I just want to grab a quick shower before we go to the
restaurant. I don’t go out very often and this is a small town. I want to look
at least a little presentable.”
“Ok. I don’t suffer from that same affliction.”
The outlying casinos and strip-malls began to appear to the
left and right of us. We were back in town.
“Did you know Mom and Dad think the Earth is made from
pieces of other planets? Mom was telling me this recently. They think Jesus
just picked up chunks from older dead planets and put them together to create
this one, and that’s where all the fossils of dinosaurs and things come from. They
are the remains of creatures who lived on other planets before they were mashed
together to make Earth.”
I laughed. “I did know that. I think I first heard it when I
was about twelve, and since then it has been my favorite story to tell my
friends about our parents. I love it because it is so absolutely crazy…”
We finished the sentence at the same time, both of us
laughing “but still so absolutely true!”
“They really believe that Dinosaurs never existed on this
planet.”
“It’s like how Mom thinks playing cards have evil spirits in
them, and that’s why we never had them in the house growing up, not because of
the implied reference to gambling, which is a sin, but because she literally
believes there are evil spirits in the cards. My kids love to tease Grandma
about that one.”
“She swears now she never said that. But I remember it too.”
“Well, they have learned a lot from us over the years.”
When we arrived back at Jaime’s place, she went to shower,
and I decided to just relax in silence. It had already been a long day for me.
I sunk into one of the familiar gold chairs that had been in our formal living
room growing up. It felt like home. Mike climbed onto my lap. As soon as I closed
my eyes my phone began working obscenely to get my attention. My kids were
texting. I finally finished responding to the last one when I saw Jaime again.
“Everything ok? Do you need to go or something?” She asked,
having seen me texting furiously and fully understanding my situation.
“It’s fine. My kids are nags. I didn’t exactly tell them
where I was going, just that I was in Nevada. They assumed I was in Vegas, and
they must be having quite a conversation about it amongst themselves because
they were texting me to ask how I can afford to go to Vegas when I can’t afford
other things they want.”
“Jesus Christ. Are you serious?”
“Dead serious. That’s what I am up against with all these
teenagers.”
“Could you imagine ever saying something like that to Mom
and Dad when we were their age? I never would have!”
“I might have, but I would have been an asshole for doing
it.”
“Isn’t it funny how we grew up in the same family but when
we talk about it now we seem to have had completely different parents from each
other?”
“I finally just told them I was in Carson visiting my sister
and they need to back off. They did. Langston says to say hi to you for him.”
“That’s cute.”
“Yeah I guess they are still a little cute. Hopefully they
will leave me alone now. I told them the same thing I told their mom. I will be
back tomorrow afternoon and I will entertain requests then.”
Eastern Sierra
Brewing Company
“I know it is walking distance from here but we need to
drive to the bar. I did my hair and put makeup on and I don’t want to look like
a mess by the time we get there.”
“Fine with me.”
We parked her truck about a block away. She handed me the
keys. As we approached we could hear loud music and see people coming in and
out of what turned out to be a side door through which one enters directly onto
the dance floor in front of the stage. We worked our way to the bar. The place
was about half full of families and singles, a real nice mix. The band was
covering Styx, it was Too Much Time on My Hands, one of my favorites. We found
two empty stools in the ideal location at the bar. I looked first at the tap
handles and when I found them indecipherable I turned to the chalk board
listing the beers brewed on site. Jaime just looked around the bar sizing up
the room. I could see that they were understaffed so I joined her.
The regulars appeared to be hovered around the center of the
bar, that’s where the regulars usually are. They were an odd mix of aging men, mostly
bikers with head bandanas and leather vests, children, and a number of similar
looking women of widely varying ages. Most of them were a type, the brand of well-worn,
working-class White women who like to have a good time, often referred to as “skanks”
but whom my friends and I describe as “just used enough to be a keeper.”
On the dance floor were a number of additional women also
fitting the description above, a couple of older men mixed among them, two
children, and three or four gentlemen with Down syndrome dancing in a circle.
Everyone loves classic rock.
Behind the bar was the largest leprechaun I have ever seen. He
was a grown man, almost six feet tall, with bright red hair and a matching
bushy beard. He was dressed head to toe in an elaborate green outfit complete
with red and white striped stockings, a hat with a buckle, and pointy shoes
with the tips curled up. He was clearly having a better time than the rest of
us.
“What can I get you folks?”
“Is it really St. Patrick’s Day?” I asked him.
“Monday, but we are celebrating here all weekend.”
Jaime ordered their raspberry beer and I had their IPA. She
loved hers. Mine was just ok.
“This is the place Jaime. This is immediately the coolest
place I have been in Carson. This is where you should be hanging out and
meeting new people.”
“You think? Yeah I like it here. And this beer is so good. I
normally don’t like beer.”
“Definitely”
“I think I know some of these guys over here, the bikers. I
am sure I know those two over there. I am going to wait for them to recognize
me. I think they will.”
“So many skanks here. I love skanks.”
“You are such a nerd.”
“I might just see if I can bring one home with us.”
“You do that. I don’t care. You are driving. I am getting
drunk. Just promise me you will make sure I get home.”
“I got you.”
“I am serious. You have to promise me.”
“It’s fine. I will drink slow enough to stay sober. I
promise I will make sure you get home tonight.”
Her attention was already somewhere else.
“Oh that girl over there with the tattoos, she is a waitress
at the Bread Box. I think that one is also.”
Just then those two young women walked up to each other and
kissed. It was not a friendly kiss. It was a passionate kiss. It went on and
on. These two hot women were making out in the middle of the bar. Everyone was
watching. No one was complaining.
“Oh this is fun!” Jaime swung around to tell me. “I rarely
see anything like that in Carson.”
I couldn’t possibly have agreed more. Jaime took my phone,
she texted my kid.
-
Hi Langston this is your aunt Jaime. How are
you?
-
Hi. I am good.
-
That’s good. Thanks for sharing your dad with
me. I really needed a friend.
Harley
As the evening wore on more and more people filed in off the
streets and the place began to fill. As the band began its second set I noticed
that each of the gentlemen with Down syndrome had a sexy new partner. There are
good people in Carson. A couple guys joined us at the far end of the bar, and
then a woman who had been on the dance floor since we arrived took the seat
between me and them.
She was a nice looking woman, about forty, slender,
obviously a dancer. She seemed to be there by herself and she was not wearing a
ring. The guys on her right wasted no time in striking up a conversation with
her. I couldn’t hear what they were saying. The band was covering Wild Cherry.
Jaime had been recognized by her bikers. She was busy with them. I could feel
my buzz turning to a drunk. I remembered my promise and ordered water with my
last beer.
The two guys to my right quickly turned into one guy. More
specifically I now had a couple to my right. They were sitting and speaking
closely enough that personal space was no longer a consideration. That’s how it
works in bars as the night goes on. He was drunk. Somehow I don’t think she
was.
The dance floor was crowded again. The guys were back at it.
The skanks continued to entertain them. Good for them, I thought. By the time I
glanced left again the male member of the couple was gone, not even an empty
glass remained where he was. The woman and I were now alone at our end of the
bar. It wouldn’t last long.
“Did that guy just miss an opportunity?” I asked her.
She smiled. “I don’t think so. He was pretty wasted.”
“As a people watcher, I would have predicted you two leaving
together.”
“Nah he isn’t really my type. I like big buff guys. I work
for the forest service and spend a lot of time with loggers and firefighters.”
“That’s interesting. You are into lumberjacks. Is it a
flannel shirt thing or a beard thing?”
“It’s a rough sex thing. But beards are nice.”
I stroked my beard. “Everyone likes rough sex.”
“Yes, but I can get it any time I want. That’s what I Iove
about being divorced.”
“Hell yes you can. I am divorced also. We should drink to
that.”
We clinked our pints. The giant leprechaun appeared with a
tiny green drink. He set it down in front of her.
“The gentleman at the end of the bar asked me to send this
your way.”
“Is that a midori sour?” She asked him. “And which guy
bought it?”
“Yes it is. And it was that guy down at the other corner,
with the black shirt and the Nascar hat.”
I was too deep to resist leaning forward to peer past Jaime
and the bikers in time to see the guy nod and tip his hat. He had another
midori sour in his other hand. The leprechaun was gone again.
“Shit now I am going to be wasted. I better order some
food.” She was clearly a sensible woman.
“I love this band” she continued. “I came here tonight
just to see them.”
“Do you know them?”
“No. I am not from around here.”
“Neither am I. I am from Sacramento. I am here visiting my
sister.”
“I live in Petaluma.”
“You drove to Carson City from Petaluma just to see this
band?”
“Rode, and yes. I saw them here once before and I really
liked them. I like this place. I checked their website and saw that my favorite
band was playing tonight and decided to come see them. I am trying to get out
and do new things as often as possible.”
“Word.”
“I am Harley, by the way.” She held out her hand. I took it.
“Nice to meet you Harley.”
Suddenly the guy with the Nascar hat was sitting on Harley’s
other side. She turned toward him and shook his hand, began the obligatory
small talk. Jaime was also back.
“I think I might be a little drunk. What’s going on over
here?”
“This is my new friend Harley. And this is some guy who
bought her a drink.”
They both looked over. Introductions were made all around.
The conversation continued as a group for a while. Eventually Jaime became
interested in something Nascar was saying and she moved to his left. We were
slowly creeping further down the bar. Harley and I were left to continue our
conversation.
“They seem to be hitting it off.” I offered.
“That’s fine with me. He’s not my type anyway.”
“Right you like lumberjacks.”
“I think most men are intimidated by me. I see it a lot. I
know what I want. I know what I don’t want. And more importantly, I know what I
like.”
“Yes men are often intimidated by strong women. They see
them as a threat to their imagined authority. So what do you like, besides
rough sex with lumberjacks?”
“I like a lot of things. But I really like sex. I only just
learned how much. I feel like I have really missed out for many years.”
We continued this line of conversation for some time. Then Jaime
and Nascar were gone. I looked around. Harley noticed and without a word she
pointed to the front door, they were standing outside, just beyond the glass.
“Should we check on them?” She asked. “I think your sister
is a little drunk.”
“I know she is a little drunk. But I think they are fine as
long as we can see them. Her purse is here at my feet. She won’t leave without
it. And I have her keys.”
“As long as we can see them” she repeated.
“That’s the thing about marriage.” I offered, returning to
our previous topic. “The sexual desert I mean. I get it. You also strike me as
a woman in love with a few favorite toys.”
“I don’t believe in vibrators.”
“You don’t believe in vibratos? Like you don’t believe they
exist? I feel confident in assuring you that they do exist. I have seen them.”
“No silly I don’t believe in using vibrators. I think they
cause women to become insensitive to a real penis.”
“I believe that most women can be a little insensitive where
penises are concerned.” I smiled and laughed just a little. “But this is
definitely the first time I have heard this theory.”
“Desensitized. Shit. I should stop drinking.”
“Me too.”
“We can’t see them anymore.”
I spun around. She was right. Jaime and Nascar were gone.
“I am going to go take a peek outside to see if I can spot
them. Would you mind keeping an eye on her purse while I do?”
“I’ll tell you what” She picked up the purse. “I will just
come with you. I will carry this so you don’t have to.“
“I appreciate that more than you know. As a divorced man I
swore I would never hold anyone’s purse for them again.”
“I get it.”
We walked outside. The streets were empty, dark, and quiet.
It was a stark contrast to the noisy bar. My foggy mind had some trouble
processing the scene. We looked around. We walked toward the rear of the
building where most people parked.
“I don’t see them anywhere.” Harley sounded more worried
than me.
“Me neither. She couldn’t have gone far.”
“But he could have. And she could have gone with him.”
“Oh I know. I can find her on my phone. My dad convinced us
all to join a family network on this location tracking app. I should be able to
see where she is.”
I pulled my phone from my pocket and opened the app. As
convenient as smartphones are, in a pinch, they never work as fast as you want
them to. Two dots appeared on the screen, a map of Carson City in the
background. Over one dot hovered a bubble with my photo. The other photo was
Jaime’s. The dots were not close together.
“It looks like she is several blocks from here, maybe a
couple miles. I don’t know Carson very well. I have no idea where this is.”
“We should go find her.”
“I don’t know. She is a big girl. She would call or text if
she had a problem. Maybe it’s better to leave it alone and wait here. She has
to come back eventually.”
“I don’t trust that guy. I really think we need to go find
her.”
“I am going to trust your instinct on creepy guys. Let’s go
find her. I can drive. We can just drive toward the dot.”
“Okay but promise me you won’t try anything in the car.”
“I promise.”
“Let me just grab my jacket.”
She walked across the street and retrieved a small leather
jacket from the storage compartment on the back of a motorcycle. It was a
Harley.
We drove Jaime’s truck toward the red dot. Suddenly we were
at Jaime’s place.
“This is her place. Let’s just go in and check on them. We
don’t need to stay. I can drive you back to the bar, or wherever.”
“She will want her purse, and I could use a recommendation
for a nice motel.”
We approached the door slowly and quietly. We were
whispering.
“I don’t know which key it is. I will just try every key
that looks like a house key.”
Harley stood closest to the door. “I can hear someone in
there, but they aren’t talking.”
The third key did it. By the time I got the door open Mike
was very happy to see me. He was also happy to meet Harley. The place was dark.
Mike was alone.
“This is one-eye Mike. I don’t think anyone is here. Let me
just look around.”
Harley petted Mike. Everyone likes Mike.
By the time I reached the back bedroom I could see Jaime’s
phone sitting on the bed. She’d never even had it with her. I was suddenly
worried.
“She left her phone here. So I now have no idea where she
is. Let’s drive back to the bar so she at least knows where to find us.”
“Okay. Bye Mike. It was nice to meet you.”
We when found our way back to the bar we approached from the
other side. Jaime and Nascar were standing out front. They were waiting for us.
We parked on the street.
“I wondered what happened to you two.” Jaime said with a
smile and more than a little suggestion that we had been up to something. “I
noticed my truck was gone so we just decided to wait until you came back.”
Harley handed Jaime her purse. The three of them talked
while I read some new texts from my kids.
“No it’s J-E-N-N-I-E.” This was the first thing I heard as I
wandered back to the group. Jaime was trying not to give Nascar her number.
“I thought you said your name was Jamie?” Nascar was
confused.
“No I said Jennie.” She looked at Harley. Harley nodded.
“I have always known her as Jennie” she said.
“Wait that’s not enough numbers.”
“Let me look. She has had a lot to drink. I know her
number.”
Harley took his phone and started entering numbers. Nascar
looked at me. I looked at Harley. Then I looked at the sky. Just as I was
noticing how clear it was, Jaime was standing next to me.
“I like her. I think she would be such a good friend. We
have similar jobs and everything.”
Nascar eventually walked off in a huff. His dignity should
have sent him away fifteen minutes earlier. Now it was just me and the girls. I
looked inside the bar, it was nearly empty. The night was chilly and beautiful.
I was sober.
“I think I need to go home” Jaime said. “Do you still want
to go gambling?”
“I don’t need to go gambling”
“Ok because I think I need to go home.”
Jaime turned to Harley. “You should come with us back to my
place! Or we could go to a casino.”
“We’ve just come from your place. I met your dog.”
“Awww my little Mike. I love my dog so much. I miss him.”
“I think I am going to go there.” Harley pointed to a cigar
bar across the street. She turned and hugged Jaime.
“It was so much fun meeting you. I will look you up next
time I am in town.”
She let go. She looked my way. “And this guy…” She put both
her arms around my neck and hugged me hard. “I think this is a pretty great
guy.” She said it in my ear, but loud enough for Jaime to hear.
“I assure you it is a ruse. Ask anyone.”
“My brother would never drive around with a stranger looking
for me. He wouldn’t give a shit.”
“Maybe he can give me lessons.”
We watched her walk across the street.
“Do you want me to take that bitch out for you?”
“Harley? No she isn’t even my type. I never had a chance.”
“Not Harley dork. Aww I love Harley. I want her to be my new
best friend. You know who I mean.”
“I don’t think that’s really necessary.”
“Okay but you know I would.”
I was a little overcome. I hugged her. I had to. It was too
sweet and too pathetic all at the same time.
“I know you would.”
Horses and Steel
We went to the Bread Box for breakfast. We were among the
first to arrive. It was just after seven.
“Mom and Dad were all excited about some new discoveries of
ancient artifacts in Mexico when I was in Sacramento last month. Dad was trying
to tell me all about it. He was showing me videos. He was all fired up. I
didn’t really understand but it was interesting. Have you talked to them about
that stuff?”
“Yes I know about that stuff. They know I am skeptical. So
they temper their reactions with me.”
“What did you think about it?”
“Well it is interesting. I watched a number of videos about
it and read a couple other articles on my own. What has happened is the ruins
of an ancient city were discovered recently in Southern Mexico. This is not a
big deal by itself. Ancient cities are always being discovered in Mesoamerica.
Scholars and Archaeologists expect there are still hundreds of undiscovered
cities down there.”
“So why are Mom and Dad all excited about this one?”
“Because it happens to contain some writing which suggest it
has the same name as a city described in the Book of Mormon. It also happens to
be located, according to at least one school of thought on the location in the
modern world where the Book of Mormon stories took place, right where the book
of Mormon says it was.”
“That’s pretty heavy.”
“It’s basically Mormon apologetics.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“Have you ever read the Book of Mormon?”
“I never have. I always meant to. I know I was supposed to.
But I never did.”
A young, familiar-looking waitress with a single full-sleeve
of tattoos came to pour us some coffee. She
smiled warmly and walked away. If she recognized us she didn’t let on.
“I told you she worked here. But I don’t see the other one.”
“You were correct.”
“I think it’s cool that the cute young girls who were making
out in the bar last night work here. I love this place. I love Carson City.”
“It’s definitely growing on me.”
“Whatever dork. You know you like it here.”
She was back to take our orders. Jaime ordered the local
favorite using what sounded like secret code to me. It is tough to be an
outsider. Neither of us had opened a menu.
“And what can I get you?”
“I haven’ looked at the menu, but I will tell you what
sounds good, and hopefully you we can work something out.”
“Ok”
“I would like a pile of hash browns…”
She interrupted me. “We don’t have hash browns.”
I just stopped and stared. We all did. I wasn’t sure where
to go next. What kind of breakfast restaurant doesn’t have hash browns?
“Potatoes.” It was Jaime who said it.
“Yes potatoes.” I said
“We definitely have potatoes.”
“Great. I would like a pile of potatoes, some wheat toast,
and do you maybe have some avocado slices?
“Sure.”
“That would be perfect, no butter on the toast, oh and a
bottle of Cholula if you have some.”
“You don’t want any eggs or meat or anything?”
“No thanks.”
“You are definitely not from around here.” Jaime reminded
me. We continued where we left off.
“Anyway the Book of Mormon describes all the events which it
chronicles as having happened on two different land masses which were connected
by a narrow strip of land. It was clearly designed to be recognizable to the
ignorant as North, Central and South America. Only Joseph Smith apparently didn’t
realize that no one could possibly have travelled the distances the stories
describe in the time frames they describe if those bodies of land were really continents.”
“You think Joseph Smith wrote the book of Mormon?”
“Whether he wrote it or plagiarized it makes little
difference in my mind. There were several very similar stories published in the
northeast in the years prior to publication of the Book of Mormon. Plus he was
a known fraud. And it is a little convenient that the gold plates don’t exist
anymore, and that the method he supposedly used to translate them was purely
divine and can’t be duplicated.”
“It is a crazy story when you think about it.”
“So anyway much of the current thinking among Mormon
scholars about the actual locations of the events in the Book of Mormon centers
on southern Mexico and northern Guatemala. And that’s where they found this
city. Also the translation of the name of the city into modern languages is
very similar to the name of a city described in the Book of Mormon.”
“But you don’t believe it.”
“I don’t even believe in a magic man in the sky. But,
suspending that for a moment, it seems to me that if someone was going to use
this or any discovery of ancient civilizations to try and prove that the Book
of Mormon must be true they would be ignoring the most glaring archeological
deficiencies.”
“Which are?”
“Horses and steel.”
She laughed. “Horses and steel?”
“The Book of Mormon clearly describes the use of horses and
steel. It describes battles on horseback among huge populations of ancient
peoples who don’t exist anymore, with steel swords and breastplates. It mimics
the bible that way. The only problem is we know that horses didn’t exist in the
Americas during that time. And neither did steel. There is no archaeological
record anywhere of either horses or steel existing in the Americas before Europeans
arrived a few hundred years ago.”
“But the Book of Mormon stories take place a lot longer ago
than that.”
“This is true, but if they existed where did they go? Why
aren’t there any fossils? Why aren’t there any steel artifacts found in any of
the thousands of ancient sites discovered in the Americas?”
“That’s interesting. I didn’t realize that.”
“Most modern Mormons don’t, or if they do they consider it a
failing of archaeology, which is absurd. The burden of proof is on them. They
are the people making ridiculous claims. Joseph Smith was just like any other
American White guy in the nineteenth century. He hated Indians so he vilified
their ancestors in his stupid book. I might say he was a little like Twain that
way. But Twain wrote about Joseph Smith in his autobiography. He didn’t have very
nice things to say about him or his book.”
“You dislike the religion more than I do.”
“Word.”
Indian School
“I want to show you one last place before you go. Do you
have time?”
“Sure.”
We drove a little outside of town again, this time deeper
into the valley. Cutting through a neighborhood of five-acre farms we
approached a complex of old buildings in various stages of renovation and
disrepair. The sign said Stewart Indian School.
“George brought me here and told me all about it. Do you
know that a hundred years ago the government took Indian children away from
their parents and put them in boarding schools called Indian Schools?”
“I did know. It’s a heartbreaking piece of history.”
“Yeah. It’s totally fucked up. They thought by taking kids
away from their parents and teaching them to conform to White culture they
could eliminate Indian culture in a single generation. This was one of the
schools.”
“I had no idea this was here.”
We drove through the complex. It is quite large really.
There was plenty of room to damage a lot of children there. Jaime described the
various buildings to me as she understood them. They were all made from stone
quarried locally. There were yellow, red, brown and green chunks of rock stacked
on top of each other to create walls, the various colors spaced for uniformity.
Some buildings had been restored to their former “glory”, if such a word can
even be used to describe a place like this. The restored buildings were
beautiful. The grounds were well maintained. The ruins were fascinating. They
reminded us of a time when buildings were constructed with whatever materials
could be found nearby, before cities all looked the same. But an air of misery
hung over the place. It was the ghosts of thousands of families torn apart. I
asked Jaime to stop so I could take a photo. I chose a group of small buildings
which seemed to bridge the space between restoration and ruin. Some windows
were replaced, some were boarded. Some buildings had new shingles. The space
between them was occupied by brown weeds and leafless trees all barely clinging
to life. The sky above was deep blue, cloudless. It was spring but there was no
way to know it by looking.
“Just a short visit
this time?”
“Yeah. I need to get back to my real life.”
“I am really glad you came out.”
“I am also. These short trips are good for me.”
“Have you heard from Harley this morning?”
“No. I don’t expect to ever hear from Harley again.”
“I gave her my number.”
“She has mine as well.”
“Did you get her number?”
“No.”
“Still I hope she texts. She would be a fun friend.”
“I meet people like that in bars all the time. We exchange
numbers and promise to be friends but mostly we never talk to or see each other
again.”
“I wish Mom and Dad would move here, but Mom just doesn’t
like it here.”
“I think they should move wherever they want. They have
definitely earned that right. They’re good old shits.”
“Yeah they really are.”
“Keep taking good care of Mike.”
“I will.” She found him and petted his head playfully. “I
just love my little Mike. He is the best dog in the world. Aren’t you? Yes he
is. I just love him so much.”
Driving west over the eastern ridge into the Tahoe basin
produces spectacular views from almost any elevation. But I think the first
view of the lake is the best. As I wind down the mountain I can see the huge
casinos in the distance. They end abruptly where California begins. Past that I
can see Highway 50 rise against the cliff side. That’s where I am going. Over
those mountains is where I live.
