Everything On the Line

The fact that J's close friend and colleague, who is on our side of the fence, is named Heather is a funny coincidence because one of the only other people I know, among my old friends from long ago, who is also on our side is also named Heather.

And by coincidence as well, we had dinner recently with her at her home in Colorado. Her husband Randy is a very close friend of mine, going back to high school when we were on the high school newspaper together. We were both in the snotty high-achiever college-bound clique. He went on to become an architect and worked in Los Angeles for many years for a high-powered firm designing skyscrapers for clients in Southeast Asia. 

Randy is not a fan of Donald Trump, and almost certainly didn't vote for him, but he is among the rare class of people who can talk to people on both sides. But I was not really sure if he knew where I stood. 

He greeted us warmly as we drove up. I talked with him the kitchen of their cabin in the mountains near Estes Park as he prepared dinner. I mentioned that our visit to the YMCA camp this year was a bit stressful, partly because I had had almost no contact with my sisters, who segregated themselves from us in cabins on the opposite side of the main building, leaving us with the spectacular newly built one up on the ridge.

Randy was puzzled? Why didn't they want to talk to me. I blurted out the words I'd been building up to saying to him, dreading them, but knowing the time had come to make a clean breast of things.

"Because I'm voting for Donald Trump," I said, somewhat giddy from half a beer.

He burst out laughing. I knew things would be ok.

"Well you will like talking to my wife," he said, while mixing the salad. That told me everything.

Heather arrived about a half hour later. True to form, she was very enthusiastic about talking to me. I had suspected she was a Trump supporter, but until that evening, when we all laid our cards on the table, I had not dared broach the subject, and had been coy when put on the spot about politics in previous meetings. Now there was no holding back.

It's funny for me to think that of all people, it would be Heather who is now one of the people in the real Resistance Movement with our side. I would never have suspected that long ago.

I barely knew her in high school. She was two years younger, and I didn't pay much attention to her class by the time I was a senior. My first impression of her was a cute red-haired spark plug of a girl walking down the hallway in her candy stripers uniform from working at the hospital. I've brought up the candy striper thing to her in the past, and she has rolled her eyes and groaned. I get the feeling it doesn't bring back good memories, so I don't mention it anymore.

She and Randy didn't even date in high school. They met only years later when both of them lived in Los Angeles. They got married in 2003 in at the Peter Strauss Ranch in the Santa Monica Mountains. As part of their ceremony, they had their friends blindly pull white stones with words written on them from bag, and read the word aloud to the audience as part of the blessing. I went seventh and last. I reached in and pulled out the stone. It said "love".  I announced it aloud to the crowd. Heather didn't even believe it at the time. Wearing her bridal dress, she bent over and picked up the stone to verify that I hadn't faked it. Sadly the ranch itself was destroyed in fires a couple years back.

Now they have two sons and live in Fort Collins. True to form, Randy is gutting and redesigning their newly bought house in a section of the town with houses built in the 1960s, where many of my high school friends lived back in the day. For the time being they have to live in their cabin in Glen Haven, which is a hidden side canyon off the Big Thompson near Estes Park. They bought the property a couple years back but it burned down to the ground when they were in Europe, due to the explosion of their water heater.

Randy certainly didn't mind the challenge of rebuilding the cabin to his specs, but it turned out to be a nightmare. It happens that the property lines in their ancient private subdivision had been mis-surveyed years ago, leading to all manner of title conflicts. Moreover county regulations about building near running water, even the tiny stream through their property, caused all manner of headaches with inspectors. Worst of all, the county allowed rebuilding of the cabin only on the existing footprint of the property, which was awkward and confining. 

Randy got around this by building upwards. H/e described the repeated visits of county inspectors to make sure the second floor overhang didn't jut over the original foundation by even a few inches. Nevertheless, the result of his work is magnificent. We basked in the fruit of his labor, sitting out on the porch, which now faces a different direction from the old structure.

J and Heather hit off very well, given their mutual interest and training in natural medicine. In recent years Heather has become somewhat well-known in the local area because of her activism in personal health freedom issues. She has put herself on the line in public, giving speeches on the steps of the capitol, and writing op-eds for the newspapers. "Heather is a badass," said J to me, after reading one of the newspaper columns she has written.

This has put her at great odds with most of the circle of Randy (and my) circle friends from the old days. The biggest point of conflict, however, has that Heather and Randy put their sons into a charter school in Fort Collins. This was the final straw that caused our old friends to shun them entirely. Randy, ever the peacemaker, has put in the awkward middle, still politically liberal but defending his wife against the onslaught from the rest of the people we know.

It happens that at the time of our visit, they have a house guest staying in their spare room upstairs, an old friend of Heather's. She is thin reed of a woman, about ten years older than us. She is a natural medicine practitioner who lived many years in Hawaii. She was the last person in the world you would think would  exclaim "Heck YES!" and toast me with gusto when I said I was voting for Trump. But so bet it. 

I find almost no fellowship with my old friends, and mourn the loss of that companionship at times, thinking it will probably never come back, but in strangers I find connections. We are all outcasts. We are sick of it. We are not going to take it anymore, those of us who see things as they are without the delusions.

At the dinner table, I mention to Heather this curious fact, that of all people I went to high school with, she is the last and only one, with whom I find common cause in the world at moment, "even though we barely knew each other."

I then I remember, always a funny recollection to myself, "but of course we were in a play together."

Unlike the candy striper reference, she leaps to echo this one. "I was your daughter," she says proudly. 

Very true.  We were actually characters in a play within the play itself, performed beneath a circus bigtop. The play is a modern drama about a man who loses everything in life, and is left completely alone in despair, as a test of his faith in God. I have clear memory of being on stage with Heather, sitting at a dinner table under the circus canopy. Now we are having dinner again after all these years.

There is something about the way she says it that is refreshing,. There is no coy irony, no posture of blasé disaffection from giving someone too much ego attention by a happy recollection of companionship, that is so typical of people of my generation. It's a recollection she enjoys telling people about. It makes me feel proud of her in almost a paternal way.

After that evening, when we were still at the YMCA camp, she peppered me with texts asking about the election. It was flattering to have someone actually care what I thought. Then I figured I wouldn't hear from her until the next time we met, perhaps next summer, but last week I got another text from her, complaining about the new lockdown restrictions that the county wants to impose on them. She asked about the election. I told her it was going to be a massive landslide for Trump. She responded with one of the "praying hands" emojis.

After tonight I hope to text her back in celebration. Either my credibility is going to be destroyed after tonight, or I will come out smelling like roses. I wouldn't have it any other way.  How else could I live up to my stage daughter's expectations of me?