Cross Country #38 ReMarkably Challenging Intimacy
or Barry and Goldie find themselves in unromantic situations.

Barry: The SurfRider Oceanfront Resort is perched on the cliffs about two miles north of Depoe Bay Oregon. Our room faces the ocean, and leads directly onto a lawn, with steps leading down to the beach a hundred feet below. In the distance are dozens of fishing boats and on the rocks to the left, about 30 sea lions are easily visible with our binoculars. There isn’t a cloud in the sky. The temperature is a comfortable 75 degrees. Unlike our previous hotel this resort is not in our book "The best places to kiss in the Northwest."

Romantic, except that I am with Mark, Goldie’s 13 year old son. This is about step father - son bonding and showing Mark a different way of traveling. For him, travel means visiting relatives in Florida or going skiing in Colorado or Vermont. For me travel is about experiences. Over the past three days, we’ve been to Mount St Helens and seen the still smoking volcano from as close as one can - just 6 miles, surrounded by thousands of dead tree trunks blown over by the eruption. We walked on the top of a dam hastily built to contain the flow of slush and logs and then we both fell asleep watching a movie of the big bang at the visitors center.

Here on the coast of Oregon, the impressive rock formations on the beaches are from lava flows originating hundreds of miles away. About 70 miles away offshore, is a major fault. There are warning notices advising us to take cover in the event of an earthquake, then to run like hell uphill to avoid the Tsunami that would follow. I think about weird signs I have seen elsewhere. In the Kruger National Park in South Africa near the Mozambique border there was a sign in our bedroom: "In event of armed insurrection take cover under the bed."

Evidence of volcanic activity abounds. Yesterday the radio reported that there was a 3.1 earthquake in Portland about 100 miles away. Today we walked on a beach composed of millions of black round stones the size of tennis or golf balls - the result of volcanic activity. Then, we climb a monster of a sand dune and the kid does somersaults down.

Mark is a sharp kid. We debate perpetual motion machines and philosophy. I show him how to analyze dreams and teach him to research deals on hotel rooms. He asks me about the stupidist invention ever created. "A solar flashlight." he tells me. Later I actually see one. It has a battery and isn’t so stupid after all!

Stopping for lunch in Newport we choose a spot overlooking the harbor where they are offloading and cleaning tubs of freshly caught fish. My appetite whetted, I order a fish grill and am surprised to see the thinnest, minuscule overcooked pieces of long dead fish that cannot even be revived by loads of tartar sauce. "What’s this" I ask of the waitress. With a straight face she tells me how difficult it is to get fresh fish these days.

Tired of junk food and bad meals at restaurants, and wanting to enjoy the ambience of our veranda with its view, we stop for Chinese take out. A meal is about $7 - reasonable I think. I then see soup is $7.50! What’s that all about? We brainstorm then decide that people call for takeout, get asked if they want Wonton soup, and say: "Why not." They then get hit with the surcharge. We skip this place and stock up with food at the supermarket. Later, we heat up our precooked chicken supper in the fireplace of our hotel room using a piece of drift wood as a skewer.

So Mark is getting a different kind of education and for the first time, I’m beginning to know and understand him. I wish we have a few more days alone together but the Kallah beckons. We say goodbye to the beautiful coast and I silently resolve to return within a year or two.

Goldie: Once again Barry and I part ways for a brief interval. We're experienced enough to know that.three months in a combination of mini-van and cruise ship cabin is quite a bit of compressed intimacy. White space is also good. This intentional five day break feels very well timed.

We've been married almost a year and three quarters and I recall with renewed amazement how one ritual (wedding) instantly added to my kin four new brother and sister-in-laws, three children, two grandchildren, a mother-in-law and umpteen cousins and nieces and nephews -in-law. I feel young and fortunate to be a grandmother at the age of 44.

I feel teary watching Barry discover the joy of relationship with my father and mother, as well as both of my sons.

Reclaiming the spirituality of family in the age of the dispersed nuclear family, feels so compelling to me. When I went through divorce I was mostly conscious of letting go of a husband and didn’t realize all of the systems that are disrupted in one’s life.....couples one hung out with, the anger and distancing of in-laws and their children, etc. I have noticed among lesbian friends that they often maintain close family-like relationships with former lovers and the families of former partners. This reframed my attitude on the matter. One of my favorite events this past year was making seder with Barry's exwife Fran, their kids, my kids, her partner Frank, some mutual friends.....new kinds of families are emerging, also holy.

Before marrying Barry, I entered another type of enduring relationship, a "committed friendship." My friend Tzepples and I formed an agreement that if ever anything that could rupture our friendship would arise between us, that we would stay present and work it out. When once in our decade together this happened, the clause was invoked and we are closer than ever. Often I have reflected on the security the simple act of commitment can engender.

While the rain has it’s place on stage and beach I’m imagining that Mark and Barry are having the incredible gift of private time together. It seems to me that Barry is a rare step-dad to take on five days alone with his new wife's thirteen year old son. While he and Mark are prowling the byways of Oregon, I will meet my buddy Shefa Gold at the Oregonian coastal paradise between the towns of Yachats and Florence for a few days of girl talk and r&r before joining a teachers' weekend for the upcoming Kallah.

Two days into this adventure I call Barry on the cell phone to check in. He's on a mountain with Mark, they are having a great time. "Hang on," he says....then I hear, "oops, Mark, grab onto that bank...over there, ...don't worry you'll dry." I try to imagine he's fallen into a very small stream and not a raging river...not to think about soggy sneakers, his only pair. Then I hear peals of laugher: "Mom. We're fine, having a GREAT time."

Ohhhhhhh...without me?