June 27, 2015, Reno- I had breakfast at Kopper Kettle, then left Susanville, headed for my mid-journey anchor. In Reno, I would do things like see how my car was holding up, assess the state of my clean clothing supply and share my Alaska, British Columbia and Pacific Northwest stories with people who would actually listen for more than three minutes.
Truth told, I have people I consider family (both spiritual and biological) in many parts of the world: Massachusetts, Philadelphia, New Jersey, Atlanta, northwest Florida, Alabama, various parts of Texas, eastern Kentucky, southern Indiana, northern Illinois, northwest Oklahoma, Colorado, New Mexico, all over Arizona, southern California, western Oregon, southeast Alaska, France, Luxembourg, Luzon, South Korea, somewhere in Canada, and Reno.
That this could keep me in perpetual motion is plausible; that the list will grow, is probable, but I digress. I got in to the parking lot of the apartment complex, where the matriarch of my Reno family lives. I checked the oil dip stick on my Nissan, after giving it a two-hour rest: Nothing. NOTHING?? How long, with no oil light flashing on the dash? The consensus was: The temperature gauge was normal, no smoke was coming out of the tailpipe and no clanging, shaking and banging were being vocalized by the engine, so lucky Nissan, lucky me. Jiffy Lube, in Reno, opens at 9 A.M. on Sunday, so the rest of today could be, and was, spent doing things like sipping artisan iced tea at the Starbucks that lives in the House that Barnes & Noble built, whilst listening to my spiritual nephew speculate as to the possible virtues of a Hillary Presidency, and enjoy a 3:30 PM dinner, at Black Bear Diner. The day was well-capped by three of us going to see “Inside/Out” at a nearby multiplex. Given the heat, anything inside was best for my Reno family. I am almost impervious to heat; but most are not.
“Inside/Out” is, essentially, the depiction of a young child’s emotions, as she struggles with a move that was generated by her father’s quest for the Golden Egg. It is a fascinating take on the topic, and ought to be seen by every parent- and prospective parent. Too often, a child is expected to take one for the team. I know we moved far too often for my long-suffering son. He is a treasure, nonetheless, and handles life’s vicissitudes quite well, I’d say.
After the film, I was gratified to see that it was still light out, yet cooling off enough to briefly enjoy some fresh air. Then, another breath of fresh air showed up: Spiritual grand-niece.
There is no end to the joy this little one brings into a room, and into a heart.