Slice of Good Ol Boy Life

The Oregon coast is a spectacular site. Massive jagged rocks protrude from the sea. It’s where the blue waters of the Pacific Ocean meet the rugged mainland lined with green Douglas firs. The smooth sound of the waves washing over the rocks is tranquilizing to the soul, especially for those who come here as a respite from city life.

On this day, it worked wonders for me.

Overcome by emotion, I could not stop crying on our drive out of the valley and over the mountains. It had been a hard journey out of the warehouse and into the airport and now I was back to square one, drained by the experience, with not a clue as to what lies ahead.

On the way, I sent a text to my TSA trainer, Tyler, thanking him for doing what he could for me.

“Enjoyed our time working together, John,” he replied. “I am sorry it did not work out for you. I hope your future entails new promising opportunities.”

It was a kind expression, not typical of security guards. My union representative also noted I was fortunate to have worked in Oregon and “not someplace like New Jersey” where my exit would not had been so graceful.

So here I was, staring into the ocean with tears running down my cheeks. Totally devasted.

David pulled me closer, wrapping his arms around me as if to shield me from the world.

He was still with me, standing by my side despite all we had been through. The cross country move to a new life and the car accident that nearly claimed it. And then there was my very public affair with T that no doubt hurt him more than he showed.

And yet his loyalty was unyeilding. He kissed me on the forehead and squeezed tight still exhibiting a calmness that I had come to respect deeply. That’s what I have always marveled about David — his ability to stay cool and collected under intense pressure and misfortune. Lord knows, we have had our share of struggles.

We had lunch at a restaurant in Depoe Bay, where the sunlight pierced through the large windows of the dining room, shining bright on our table. It was late January and sunlight was scarce so we soaked it up and ordered more wine.

David tried to cheer me up by playing photographer with cheesy comments.

“Ok, give me that sad look again,” he said, snapping pictures from across our table. I began to grin, snapping out of my pity party with each click of the camera until eventually, I was smiling in the sunlight and releasing some of the pain from the last year.

A fresh start awaited, whatever that looked like was still a mystery. On our ride back to Portland, I got a call from a California number that I did not recognize. Were the circumstances different, I likely would not have taken it, but something told me to answer and thank God I did.

It was Daniel, my friend from the Florida political circuit. His story had changed quite significantly since we last saw each other. His passion had not.

“John, let me show you the border,” he said.