Post Script

I didn't think I'd miss Jack. 

I mean, I knew that I would feel his absence, but our time together had run it's course, and I was sure things would be fine.  They're not.  I'm not crying, but I just went on a road trip, and Jack may have been one of the best companions I have ever had the pleasure of spending time with.  I just got back from a four day trip to Southern Carolina, and -I hate to say this- my traveling companions were boring.

Think of it: open road for more than two thousand miles, stretching through some of the most beautiful landscapes, cresting mountains in National Forests.  All of it was nothing.  Ten thousand idiots behind the wheels of killing machines, gas stations manned by an army of locals, and there was no response.  The conversation consisted of the sound of my voice and minimal answers.  

Good Lord: what went wrong?

We had a car.  We had a direction.  We had music, caffeine, sugar, camera, and a common goal.  We even had a sharpie to make adolescent signs with sophomoric references to breasts or penises.  Why didn't we have a blast?

Jack and I would have.  He would have been as much conversation, but genuinely entertained by my wit.  He would have taken in the scenery.  He would have entertained other drivers.  These girls didn't do anything of the sort.  One dreamt of her (this is not a lie) goat farmer fiance.  The other seemed to be hypnotized or asleep at any given moment.  While I managed to wake the latter, the former only responded badly and went back to sleep.  I am horrified.

I will take this with a grain of salt.  I am, after all, an adventurer, and very experienced in the art of travel.  I cannot expect these two armatures to compare to me.  I can however be amazed.  Have we gone so far down the toilet that college girls can't figure out how to have a good time? Am I the last of my kind?  Is this the harbinger of days to come where the only aspirations of youth are to remain secure and sedated by their ordered lives?  Have we become so insipid that the geography of our great nation is dull compared to the high definition flashes of corporate controlled television?

It may be.  

I have been asked why I wish to go to Africa.  Why I would go to South America.  Why I withdraw from our society- a recoil of shock and near-disgust.  One need only sit in a car as it crests the smokey mountains, beginning decent, and see a bored young woman:  she is beautiful, facing a new world (today forever), and carrying the promise of untapped possibility.  You will know her: she is looking down into her phone as she types a message to someone equally bored in an equally beautiful place.  Once done, she will flip it closed and go to sleep, and the silence of the car will be complete. 

I hate to end it on a sad note, but there it is.  At least we know someone like Jack is still smiling, and that, at least, can give us hope. 

No end in sight...

This is the last day.   

I do not mean to imply the end, only the passing of a phase, and, the inevitability of a beginning of a new phase: passing on, is after all, the passing into.  This evening, a few hundred miles from my city, Jack will pass from what has been our time into a new time.   It is fitting that a moment from now Alaina will end her time in the desert.    Ah, change: the only constant.

It is hard for me to think of this apart from the rest of my life.  This, for me, is the year of change.  I will be leaving the service in January, turn thirty only days later, graduate college in May, and begin what I suppose should be termed my adult life.  I will need to work, or whatever, and think about how I am not getting any younger.  I will need a good wife, and a place for us to have children.  I will need to think about a decent car and the cost of insurance and property taxes.  I will need to be responsible for someone other than me, imparting unto the future the sum of my experiences and knowledge and how my children will get along once I am not there to guide them.  I will tell the stories of my life as parables and fables....and they will listen....and they will learn of a brief time when I had a partner named Jack.

Jack, I will say, lived with me for a while.  He was a good looking boy who had led a sheltered life and was a little timid.  At the time, I was living like a fugitive college student in a Mexican ghetto.  I will tell of our adventures, and how Jack learned about the ways of a proper adventurer.  About guns, booze, broads, and the pleasures of a bachelor's life.  And I will tell them of what I learned.

About how a little dog can teach you the value of company.  The worth of a trusted friend, even if you see each other for the briefest of moments.  Of comfort, spontaneous play, and the ever-present need to be loved and cared for.  About simple pleasures and forgiveness for wrongs which truly don't matter.  That floors can be cleaned in an instant, but feelings take time to heal.  Mostly, I will tell about how it is important to have someone to care for: that the act of giving care to those who need it will always trump our own needs.  That I suppose is the Tao of Jack: to be loved, you must love.  

Thanks for reading.

like sand through the hourglass

In three weeks (roughly) Jack will be finished with his training, and I will be sending him off to a future of solo adventure.  It's a big day, and important time, and he has no idea it's going to happen.  

Oh, I tried to tell him, but the elections are all he can think about.  Every time we talk, it's about girls and politics.  Needless to say, we disagree.  Our views are just not the same.  He sees everything from the bottom up, and I see it from the top down.  I have had more privileges, and have greater access to the top of society, but I have had to work.  Jack may be limited in access, but he has all of his needs taken care of by benefactors.  

We couldn't be more different.  

Personally, I just want it over.  This is a historical moment in American history, and I am very interested in what happens (I bet Jack $20 that McCain wins, and he has blown it on stupid shirts that say, "the guy on the other end of this leash is an idiot").  However, I am also interested in having discussions about other things.  Recently I was questioned about my take on fatherhood, and that merits some thought.  I have ex-lovers with children, good friends in marriage crisis, and this year has the potential to be the biggest yet.  But everyone wants to talk politics. 

Instead of questions on how my life is, or what is happening, I get conspiracy theory and other people's rhetoric.  Partisan dogma, unoriginal ideas, and a depressing lack of genuine passion seem to be the norm.  Do these people know I'm working on a couple of screenplays, or that I am about to end my tenure with the military?  Do they know my senior thesis is one of the most ambitious possible?  Do they know of my plans to walk across Africa and climb Kilimanjaro?  I think they are missing the important part of human conversation.

Really: for as much as people talk, we don't seem to say much.  Jack and I have an agreement on this.  So, what I am going to spend my time doing now, is enjoying Jack.  He leaves me soon, and while I will be glad I don't have to run home from an exciting time at work, or fear for my stuff, or have my little rubber balls covered in dog slobber every time I want to use them, I will miss the company.  

When I took Jack, it was a beautiful day in Chicago.  I had come down to the Paramount Room to meet Alaina, and pick the little guy up.  I didn't know what to expect, but I would do anything for Alaina, and I was looking for a change anyway.  What I didn't count on was seeing her cry.  

Watching her give me Jack -temporary though it might be - was heartbreaking.  I won't cry when I hand Jack over (at least not where I will be seen) but I understand why Alaina did.  He's a heck of a cool guy to know, and he's welcome at my house any time.