Last Chance Texaco

If this were a blog about flying (which it could be, I've been on enough planes or will be to justify some sort of flying-related title), I might title this blog "Turbulence." But I just did Rough Road the other day, so that wouldn't do. But "Last Chance Texaco" seems as a propos as "Turbulence" anyway.

We just got back from Detroit this morning and my daughter leaves for California tomorrow morning at the crack of dawn, and so these are our last hours together in Minneapolis--when she comes back in a week I'll be on the next leg of my journey: Cambodia. It's strange for both of us to be suddenly at the end of our time here together. She loves Minneapolis, has expressed many times how she wishes we lived here; tonight she wished we could just continue on doing what we're doing, living in a small one-bedroom apartment in mid-town, shopping at the Seward Co-op, riding our bikes over to St. Paul, going to yoga at the YWCA down the street. Our needs are actually pretty simple. Except that I have a job to return to and she's got a school to attend. But first, our respective journeys.

For our last few hours in Minneapolis together my daughter wanted to do a couple of favorite outings--the co-op for a banana/peanut butter/soy milk smoothie and some homeopathic medicine for her hip injury; dinner at the Mill Valley Kitchen; a stop at the bookstore. She's been amazingly pulled together today given the big transitions that are ahead of her in the next few weeks.

I have been holding it together as well, but I'm definitely feeling the wear and tear of the week. I have had the great experience of being present for my daughter in her skating (she had a pretty pivotal experience--difficult, but ultimately helpful for her I think). I also had (on the same day) a dear dear friend in the hospital undergoing brain surgery for a malignant tumor. Happily the surgery went as well as it could have gone. All the prayers did not hurt I'm sure. So many thanks to a network of friends for responding to the call.

And yesterday an old friend, kindred spirit and bandmate died after surviving over a year with ovarian cancer.  I won't do justice to her life here, but I can take a moment to say she lived life the way she played guitar--with heart and with guts. She was an open and alive spirit and one of those people with whom you could have a wonderful, wide-ranging, and crazy conversation.  And she was a generous spirit who did so much good in her life, it has been both humbling and inspiring. Happily, her legacy and her light will live on in so many ways, including in her work as a doctor, her work making the Pomona Community Clinic happen, and in her music. She approached all things in her life with passion and commitment--and she was artful with all she did. I carry you in a song in my heart. Go in peace.

I snagged this from Rin Lennon's web page--shows us all back in our band days. Jamie and I exchanged clothes for the video these photos came from.