July 17, 2014
I was thinking this morning about “opportunities lost” and
thought about all the decisions I made that could have turned my life in a
completely different direction. There are several events that were, at the
time, life changing. But I followed a very different path.
When I was in high school the only line to find out about
colleges was the one that snaked up to the administration office and
information provided by a rep of San Diego State. That’s where I applied,
unaware of the dozens of alternatives available for my bachelor’s degree. I was
the time receiving about $ 600 a month from veteran’s benefits after my
stepfather passed, and his Social Security. He left me with an incredible
legacy, something I didn’t appreciate until many years later. The amount of
money would probably been at least $1,500 in today’s dollars. I also had the
advantage of getting scholarships based on my background, a father who had
served in the military to leave my mother with three children.
If I had known about another opportunity, what would my life
be like today?
I was working in an Italian deli when I left very late and
was waiting for a bus. A guy stopped his car near where I was sitting and asked
if I’d like a ride. I looked in his car. There was no one there. He looked like
a pleasant enough looking guy, and he did have a pretty sporty car, that I took
his offer. He drove me to my house in North Park, where I was sharing it with
some friends while I was at SDSU. His name was Joel and we talked in his car
for a few minutes. It made me very nervous. He asked if he could call me
sometime to get together and I thought, sure, here’s my number. A week later he
invited me to see Jesus Christ Superstar, a musical in downtown San Diego. I
had never been to a musical, and I said yes. After this he invited me to the
Unitarian Church in Hillcrest, with an open house arranged at his nearby home.
I had never attended a Unitarian Church, or for what matter, been treated so
well and generously by any man.
Several people at the open house introduced themselves to me.
I can only recall one woman smiling, shaking my hand, and telling her I had met
Jay a month or so prior to that. I was in well ironed brown slacks and a shirt.
He drove me home after the event and said how much he
enjoyed having met me, and coming with him to the play and church and open
house. While he talked he put his hand on my left knee. I was terrified and
pulled my knee away. I realized, and how could I not see, that he was gay? It
completely threw me. But because I was confused about my orientation, I feared
it terribly. He asked if he could see me again and I said no.
If I had become more than a friend, and gone out with him a
few more times, would it have helped me to accept my inclinations?
In Hawaii I was a newspaper reporter for a weekly
publication in Oahu that was distributed in Kaimuki, Kahala, and Hawaii Kai. At
one point during my short tenure I presented my portfolio to an editor at the
Honolulu Star Bulletin. I had an impressive resume and writing samples. He
said, “Your writing is really good,” he said across his desk. “The only job I
would offer is to serve at least two years as a reporter for our Guam
newspaper. When you finished there I can promise you a position at any Gannett
newspaper in the country.”
Of course, I was astounded. All I knew about Guam is that
there are hundreds of snakes that somehow climb into a plane’s wheel well and
arrive at a foreign destination where the snakes are not indigenous. I learned
later that it is a tiny island the most southern of islands in Micronesia, a
two hour flight to the Philippines or Australia.
When I came home and discussed it with my (then) wife she
said she was as far away from Oregon, and her parents, as she wanted to be. So,
no Guam.
And if I had taken that job in Guam?
I had never met my birth father, so I was surprised one day
from a call from Aunt Phoebe, who said that he would like to meet me. I was 18
and of age to make that decision. He waited until then to contact me.
Coincidentally I was going to be in the Bay Area with my friend Peter Jepsen,
so I agreed to meet him. I went to his apartment on Green Street in San
Franciso. He greeted me at the door and introduced me to his wife of 20 years, Muriel.
They were both in their late 70’s at least, which isn’t a surprise because my
father was 50 when I was born. (My mom had been a student in his typing school.
I knew what that meant, as Mom was in her mid thirtys. A dalliance, perhaps?
We visited for a
while and went to a nearby vegetarian restaurant. The next day Muriel made us
an early lunch. Stew and I rode out to his prune plumb ranch in Gerber, about a
three hour drive northeast. I was astounded by all the acreage devoted to
fruit. Everything was planted on a slight incline, so I was careful walking
into it. I mistakenly ate at least 10 plumbs…spending most of my time the next
day on the throne.
Which was annually picked and sold commercially by people he
hired. There was a nicely appointed, small cottage on the property. It was
sweating warm, and really nothing for miles. Then he asked me if I would like
to have the orchard. I was dumbfounded. But after I said I might he said I
would have to live on the farm as its caretaker. I thought about school and
other commitments and I declined.
And if I had accepted the orchard?
A friend of several months had his home in Cape Town, South
Africa. As he walked around the
living room He told me about his life growing up there, the apartheid
at the time, what the weather was like, all the scenic wonders and the ocean.
His family was there, which he would like me to meet, and it would be fun for
us to travel together. Again, I looked at all my obligations here, college, my
apartment and belongings. For some reason I thought that being gone two weeks
would interfere in several aspects of my life.
I had the money to travel. That really wasn’t a problem. But how could I be
gone for two weeks in the middle of everything? I couldn’t see it happening. I
said I couldn’t, not at this time, and it was the last time we met. Looking
back, I can imagine the courage it took to ask me, his hand wringing and pacing,
that it was an important step in his life to invite me to meet his family.
And if I had gone?
In Iowa while at the University completing my degree, I had
a phone call from a good friend from San Diego. Marci and I got along famously. She had accompanied me on several ministry
times when my church had me visit homes of needy parishoners. Marci was a
wonderful support and had a great deal of empathy for those we visited. Her
sister Melanie and friend Carol lived in a house not too far from where I lived
in San Diego, so a few of my college mates would visit and have dinner, playing
board games or conversing after our meal.
It was an extremely cold winter, reportedly 40 below, withou
the wind chill factor. I had driven to school and back that day after attending
classes that met Monday Wednesday and Friday. Tired from the day and the 20
mile drive, Marci asked me a question.
Have you thought about us getting married? I was
flabbergasted as you can imagine. I hadn’t thought of it but why is she asking? Well, she had a good friend in San Diego who
wanted to marry her and she wanted to make sure that it wasn’t something I
wanted. I kindly said no, that I was in the midst of studies, a weekend job,
and I had just bought a care for commuting.. Not until later did I realize what
a blow this was to Marci. She was, in her way, asking me to marry her. She was
Norwegian beautiful, outgoing, fun to be with, and we had laughed together many
times.
What would my life be like today if I had just said I wanted
to think about it, rather than saying giving her an outright no? I could discuss it with my college
friends so that more than a gut reaction, but common sense, that would possibly
have made a difference in my decision. Today I see her a beautiful as she was
then, a grown daughter in college... and divorced.
If I had said differently?
Mom calling aout the house
Griers offer to New Hampshere
I was to be married to a woman while a student in Iowa.
Among the family and friends was an attorney I had met on several other
occasions. He said he owned part of an island in the Pacific, had a home there,
with a servant, that I was welcome to honeymoon there. Our only expense would
be plane fare and incidentals, about $1,000. I told him I just didn’t think I
had the money for that, and passed on his offer. Instead we drove north to
Chicago, to Toronto, down to New York, the White House, Pennsylvania, and home.
We hadn’t asked for gifts at the wedding, so the attendees gave us money.
It was $1000.
If I had more faith in the generosity of those at the
wedding I would have accepted the island offer. But we had already made our
plans, reserved hotel rooms, planned out our trip. I was shocked that we now
had enough money to take his offer, but it was too late.
But if we had a more exotic honeymoon, what would have happe
Another call during the Iowa winter was from my mum. I had
moved out of the house when I was 18 in part because she refused to turn the tv
down while I was studying for college. It was also time for me to move out. By
then I was receiving VA benefits and my step-dad’s Social Security, so I had the
money for rent, and several friends from the anti-war movement were renting a
house on 40th street. There were several other places I rented until
I arrived in Iowa, where I lived for two years.
My sister Phoebe moved to Kauai where she attended a
community college. Mom was now alone in the three-bedroom house in University
City, where she lived for another year before her call to me. Again, midwinter,
and when I answered the phone my mum asked if there was anything I wanted from
the house because she was going to sell the house. In my haste and
thoughtlessness I said there wasn’t anything I wanted. At the time I was in my mid twenties and
really hadn’t developed a capacity for long-range thinking, something that really
blossomed in my 30’s.
If I had been thinking clearly, and not distracted by my
life in Iowa, I would have asked her to wait and I would get back to her. But I
didn’t and almost everything was sold, including all my personal belongings, a
beautiful desk my stepfather had made for me, dozens of comic books and Mad
Magazines, clothes, shoes, everything.
Years later I think of all the tools in the garage left by
my stepfather, everything he brought back from is trips abroad, the Paul Revere
silver…I’m heartsick remembering what I could have had.
What would my life be like now if I had said, yes, I want
everything in the house that she doesn’t want and I will return home to help
pack it all?
Bill Grier was a talented, charismatic pastor in the church
I was attending. I had visited his homes in San Diego and in Romana on many
occasions. I ministered with him, knew his family very well, and enjoyed his
wife’s cooking, happy to help wash dishes after any meal.
He said he was moving to a church in New Hampshire and would
I like to join him. His family was going, and another friend Nanette Timothy,
were moving to New Hampshire. It is a lovely state, with miles of forests in
every direction.
What if I had gone with the Griers to New Hampshire?
ww
There is also serendipity.
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