Roots exposed

Even though three months have passed since I met Daniel, I didn't know him completely until last weekend.

Late last Friday afternoon, we set out to visit his folks in Milton-Freewater. The sun was bright, but behind us as we headed east along I-84. Funny thing how two people with good communication share even more once in the car. What about facing forward on the open road, while sitting side-by-side, opens the heart and causes us to reveal ourselves more than usual?

We talked about life, past love, broken hearts, proud moments, our hopes and dreams as mile-markers passed us and the wheels hummed a low tone. I am at a loss for words when he reaches for my hand, or places it on his knee. It's a bizarre sense, but hand holding seems to be the wired version of high bandwidth love, where normal affection happens on a more broadband level. (Yes, thats a geek expressing love.)

After four hours or so, we exited I-84 and started weaving through the highways that tie together Oregon's smaller communities. First was Pendleton, then we passed the road to Athena. A short while after we entered Milton-Freewater. I know because of the large frog glowing green on the side of the building just as you crest the hill and are lowered into the valley. You see, Milton-Freewater is the home of "The Muddy Frogwater Country Classic Festival (and Corn Roast)" -- a festival full of food, sporting competitions, and other community-oriented events. http://www.muddyfrogwaterfestival.com/

We pulled off the road and into the driveway of his Parent's house. Orchards are the most popular landscape in Milton-Freewater, and the Christian house is no different. Rows of apple trees hide the house from view, except when standing in the driveway.

The first to greet us was Jack, Bob's hunting dog. He's a medium-sized Vizsla. Jack is a sweet boy who stands guard and lets no one pass who isn't of kind heart, or packing a pocket full of treats. Truth is, he's quite protective of the place when it comes to male passers-by.

Next was Marilyn, Danny's Mom. She's an incredibly kind woman who focuses her complete attention on you when you're speaking, something that's rare these days. Her love for Danny is very apparent -- big smiles and hugs for him, the same for me. That was reassuring given we were now on her turf, not at the Hillsboro Stadium surrounded by Gay softball players, or in my backyard.

We entered the house and dropped our bags in the middle of the front room. Danny's Father sat in his chair, but rose to greet his only Son. Bob is a quiet guy, like most of his generation. He's a broad shouldered man, with hands that prove he's hardworking, but a smile that can be seen by the entire room, despite his best efforts to hold it back.

Then came Clancy, Daniel's 6 year-old Yorkshire terrier. This dog is as cute as he sounds, even if he was given his "summer cut" and looked more like a miniature lion than a dog. Danny's sister Nicole (one of two sisters; Kim was at home with baby and husband) was visiting from her home nearby. She was busy researching something on the internet, but stopped to say hi.

I'd be lying if I said that touring the house and seeing his childhood bedroom didn't remind me that there are near eight years between us. His room is nearly perfectly preserved; the glow-in-the-dark stars and planets still decorate the ceiling of his room. He asked his friends to name their favorite star or planet, and then pinned the names on the ceiling. The drawers of Danny's desk are full of photos he took as a kid -- bus trips to cities far away, birthday parties, sleepovers, and even a trip to Costa Rica. In most of the photos, Danny is dressed in popular 90s fashions; a contrast to photos of me near the same age in popular 80s fashions. His soul is the same age as mine, or mine the same age as his, it really doesn't matter which way you look at it.

I slept hard the first night, I guess because it was so quiet and dark. True, the three dogs (two resident and one visiting Pit Bull) in the backyard occasionally barked at what I assume were woodland creatures passing in the dark, but for the most part it was very quiet.

We got up Saturday and sat in the front room slowing collecting ourselves and getting ready for the day. Bob, Marilyn, Danny and I set out to get some shopping out of the way. It was one of the hottest weekends of the year in MF, so we kept our errands to mostly air-conditioned locations. The Christian family has the super-saver gene, which allows them to sense a good-buy from miles away. I was along for the ride, directed to one clearance aisle after another. Slowly my bags started to outnumber those of the Christian Family. (They were good buys, stop laughing!)

We did make it to one estate sale, which was interesting. The house was a beautiful white home on a large lot with a huge duck pond in the backyard. It smelled old, but comforting at the same time. Something strange happened there -- I realized that someday someone will likely walk through my house, see my dress clothes and winter jackets hung on a rod in the middle of my bedroom, and giggle about how dated the style is. People will point at the vase my brother gave for my 27^th birthday, the framed picture of my Grandparents, or my salt 'n pepper shakers, and not understand what they meant to me. They'll ask if my belongings can be sold half-price, or if they can have my set of Superman mugs for a discount due to chips in their enamel.

Note to self: be buried with vase, picture of Grandparents, salt 'n pepper shakers and Superman mugs.

Saturday afternoon we stopped by to visit Dick and Ducky, Danny's Grandparents. We sat in folding chairs in the near 100 degree heat, but our visit was made less scorching by a can of soda and freshly picked apricots. I was completely distracted by the wise partial founders of this family. Although elderly and frail in all the usual ways, these two are full of stories of hard work, childhood follies, wise or unwise investments and life lessons. After an hour or so, we said goodbye and set off to buy groceries for dinner.

Dinner was incredible! Besides marinating and grilling salmon, fresh sweet corn and chilled "pink salad" were served. Don't stick your nose up at the pink salad -- it is GOOD. I could have made a meal outta that alone. Our bellies crammed full of food, Danny and I went into town to meet his friend Josh at his Father's highway market. Josh is a lot like Danny -- same height, big smile, dark hair and very personable. Josh was just one of four to five friends who spent afternoons and weekend nights playing video games together. We went back to Josh's house and arranged the furniture around the TV in preparation for a Smash Bros. battle between the two guys who can actually play the game. Luckily, we'd stopped by a friend's house on the way and picked up the equipment for Donkey Kongo, a game more suited to my utter lack of gaming skill or sense. Not that I am terribly uncoordinated, but this game didn't make me nauseous as my eyes tried to track the lightening-fast characters bouncing all over the screen, lasers blasting and bits of exploding character flying to unseen depths of the TV.

Sunday was our last morning. We passed the early morning hours watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer as a family. The front room is arranged to accommodate as many family and friends and possible. Central to the room is the large TV, where the family enjoys sporting events or Sci-Fi series together. Family-time and imagination are key themes in this house which has produced straight-A students, national sports stars, and a new Mom.

The love his family has for Danny was never more apparent than when we started loading up the car. Crates of peaches, cherries, berries, bananas, onions, water, snacks, large bottles of juice, boxed goods, handmade gifts, and leftovers; you name it, his Mom sent it with us. One gains intense perspective when looking in the direction of a large city from a smaller, more rural location. Few in MF fear Portland; in fact they love to visit. They simply choose to live in a location that is more comfortable for them. Some leave for school and work, only to return years later. Others drive up the hill and out of the valley, never to return again.

There was less conversation on the way home, I suspect as most topics had been explored during the first stretch. This drive was spent listening to music and catching glimpses of windsurfers on the Columbia River. One side note: there were brush fires just west of Hood River which forced the closure of the westbound lanes of I-84. We drove up the on-ramp (with about 40 other cars) and crossed the Hood River Bridge into Washington. We drove along Hwy. 14 until the Bridge of the Gods, and then we crossed back over. If you normally drive on the Oregon side and havent ever crossed over to the Washington side, do it. It's crazy beautiful.

We got home near 6:30 p.m. on Sunday. We were hungry and tired (what about sitting on your ass for four hours makes you so tired?) and spent the night watching more Buffy, while I unpacked, did laundry, and Danny played Neverwinter Nights (RPG on his laptop.)

I love Danny for all the contrast that exists inside him. He's the younger brother to two sisters, so he loved by every woman he meets. He's a strong man, an athlete and quite fit, but his touch is as gentle as any I've ever known. He's an indoor game'er, but wouldn't miss the chance to head outside for an intense softball game, complete with cracking bats and sliding. He's an accomplished student and quite smart, but can easily lose himself in a good work of science-fiction. He suits up in slacks, a dress shirt and a white lab coat for work, but roams the house in comfortably worn t-shirts and gym shorts. He giggles like a kid, but has tackled many challenges on his own, far away from home, far away from his family's guidance and immediate support. He's a man in his own right, but a son, a brother, and a goofy playmate for the children of his friends. He also happens to be the man I love, for these reasons and many more.