Chapter 4

The next few months were a whirl of activity for me. I had to let all my friends and family know about my big move. I did a lot of research on tax laws. I had to learn a new monetary system and try to be conversant with both the USA and metric systems. I got a thorough check up and a tetanus shot. Busy, busy.

I called and spoke to an immigration lawyer who told me my chances for citizenship were slim due to my rather advanced age, unless I got married or found a high-level job. Not many jobs in Whispering Springs but I still had a powerful feeling that this was what I was supposed to be doing. I had made a major investment and I would just have to wait and see how it worked out. All I wanted was to live surrounded by the glory of nature, with good friends close by, and have my ecological footprint be as small as possible to make up for all the resources I had used up in my life.

Meanwhile, another dire e-mail came from Chuck. He said he feared for his life. Bill had returned and was throwing him off the property. Bill was a cocaine dealer and evil. He and his ex-wife had tried to kill Chuck a few times. I should never, ever have anything to do with these people, in spite of the fact they were now my neighbors. I took that warning to heart.

  

Happily, Chuck soon found a new place to live, a tiny shack behind another house in town. He was making it work for himself. He was on welfare now so he had to live very frugally, but he was doing it. Our emails started ending with hearts or flowers. Now it was coming on Christmas.

I was ready to make my first road trip up with some belongings in my van. It was an 18-hour drive and thanks to friends and family I knew which side roads to take and which highways were the quickest. So it was a pleasant drive, lots of scenery and not much traffic for most of the time. I spent a night in a lovely resort hotel. I did lose a few hours at the border while my van was searched. But all my papers were in order, so no problemo.

Once, when we were chatting, Chuck had mentioned that his feet were so cold in his new place. So for Christmas I bought him a pair of handmade, sheepskin, wool-lined slippers. They weren't cheap. I also bought him a large, beautifully illustrated book about a homesteader who built a house all by himself and lived in the wilderness, A Sand County Almanac.

I arrived at my house when I told him I would, Christmas Eve around noon, but he wasn't there. So I unloaded everything all by myself. I discovered he had set up a bedroom for himself in the house. Well, that's okay. He was doing stuff around the place. The driveway was all shoveled out of some recent snow. He had added new counter space. He put in baseboard heaters which I like. The house had previously been heated by propane and I didn't want to stay with that. They have natural gas in town but it's not available out in the woods, so I had to settle for electric heat until I could get a wood stove.

I was, of course, billed by and had paid Chuck for all his work, twenty dollars an hour. I paid him with wire transfers instead of checks. He didn't want the welfare office to find out he was making any money. Not wanting to stir up trouble for myself, I had agreed to his wishes.

Finally I was finished unloading the van and I found my way over to his new place. He was delighted to see me and had a fridge full of beer. So we had a few and talked about this and that. I asked why he hadn't been there to help me unload. He explained that he wanted me to have some alone time with my new house, to really appreciate it. Well, okay, I could see that.

Then he told me he had a big surprise. We were going to a party. It was just across the street at a friend's whom he had known for some twenty years. I was quite pleased at the idea of meeting some new people.

We went over and I was delighted to meet such fine folks. Phil and his sister, Lizzy, had 10 other brothers and sisters and the night was a constant influx of people, all wonderfully nice. No one questioned where I had come from, they were just all happy to have me here. Friends and family kept walking in the door, without knocking, shouting “Merry Christmas!” It was one of the best times I ever had.

Around midnight all the guests had departed and it was just the four of us. There was no more beer. We all agreed one more would be nice and I said that there was some across the street. I asked Chuck if it would be alright if I went and got one more for each of us. He agreed it was a good idea.

So I went and was probably gone 2 minutes at the most. I walked back into Phil's and handed out the beers. Chuck looked at me for a minute, then screamed, yes screamed, “What the hell do you think you're doing, just walking in without knocking!!?”

I was stunned. I said, “I was only gone for a minute. You knew I was coming right back. Besides, people have been walking in all night without knocking. Phil, is it okay with you that I did that?”

Phil assured me that it was, but Chuck kept on raving. He said I had no manners, that since I was from another country I obviously didn't understand proper behavior. He told me I would never survive here with that sort of attitude. Then he said he was going home and I could do whatever I wanted.

I asked Phil if it would be okay if I slept on his couch. He said, “Sure. Stay as long as you want. You're family now.”

Chuck then stormed out and I stayed to finish my beer. We talked about it a little bit and Phil said Chuck was just drunk and most likely wouldn't even remember any of it in the morning. But I could sleep there if I wanted. Heck, I could even share his bed.

I thanked him profusely but said I really needed to get back over to Chuck's, if I could get in. Phil said he would leave the door unlocked for me, but to be sure to knock first. We had a good laugh.

So I went back over and Chuck's door was unlocked; he was snoring loudly in his bed. I undressed and crawled in next to him, and we slept the night away.

We awoke Christmas morning around 8. I headed to the bathroom and Chuck headed to the fridge, to get a beer. He asked if I wanted one but I declined, saying I'd prefer coffee. He put some on and he was quite cheerful. No mention of the night before. He then made us some eggs and toast and it was all very nice.

Christmas is such an odd holiday. What other time of the year would we put a dead tree in our living room and then sit in front of it, eating candy out of our socks? Well, we actually had neither tree nor socks, but I told him I had a gift for him and he said he had one for me, too.

I was so delighted. I certainly wasn't expecting anything, what with him being on welfare and all. He insisted I open mine first. It was a set of 2 picture frames to hang on the wall. Each would hold 4 small pictures. Something for my new house. That was just so sweet of him.

Then he opened his. He looked at the house shoes and put them on. Then he stood up and looked down at them. “I wouldn't wear these. They're ugly!”

I said, “Excuse me? Those are exquisitely hand-made sheepskin. No additives, no preservatives. They are extremely warm and I thought you needed them.” He just huffed, tossed them aside, and opened the other present.

“I can't keep this. Look around, I have no room in here for books. Think about it, I'm always having to move in a hurry. This would just be one more thing I'd have to worry about.” Then he chugged another beer and said he was going back to bed.

I decided I might as well drive back to my house and put some things away, so I took the book and left. I hung some pictures and emptied a few boxes, meanwhile contemplating all the events of the past 24 hours. Had it just been 24 hours? It felt like a week. Being with Chuck was obviously going to require some adjustments on my part. But I reminded myself of all the good things about him; they far outweighed the bad. In for a penny, in for a pound, I've heard said.

A couple of hours later he called and asked what I was doing. I told him and he said I should come back to his place. It was Christmas, after all, and I shouldn't be working. Besides, I was only here for two more days. So I went and he was all happy again. He was making a big pot of homemade soup.

He put some music on; he wanted me to hear his special CD of his favorite songs that he had made off the internet. The first tune was Cyndi Lauper's “Time After Time.” I had always loved that and in time it became our song. Next was Jackson's “Man In the Mirror,” another favorite of mine. Then there was a 911 recording of a woman at McDonald's who was served the wrong burger. So she called the cops. It was very funny. Next was “All Out of Love” and “Thriller,” and then a George Carlin routine. That was it.

He told me he had so many albums years ago that had all been lost. First the ones he lost to his wife, then another bunch he had in a house he was renting with some other people. One day he had come home from a camping trip and the house was empty. The roommates had all vanished along with all his stuff. Wow, this guy has had some rough experiences. I told him I had hundreds of tapes and CDs and would be more than happy to share them with him once I got all moved in.

It was pretty chilly in his place at this point and he said we needed to get naked and get in bed, where it was warm. So we spent the next 18 hours playing, laughing, touching and learning all about each others' most intimate desires. When I drove back to my country the next day, I had an ear-to-ear grin on my face that wouldn't go away.