The hippies pulled out of town yesterday morning at 9:30 10:00 11:00 11:08. It’s hard to believe that they were only here sixteen weeks. If you use a day planner, that’s 112 days. All you math geniuses out there know that converts to three months, two weeks, six days, fourteen hours, nineteen minutes and fifty-nine seconds. If your name is Jonesy, you’ve aged 2.35 years.
Time flies.
The hazmat team arrives at 8:00 a.m. on Monday morning. Ruth plans to clean up a bit before they arrive. I suggested just sealing off the area, but she wants to make sure the team is clear to enter safely.
Rather than bill them our standard $100 a night friends and family fee, we’ve waived the entire $11,200.00. By the time we calculated the state and federal taxes, resort fee, cleaning fee, and booking fee the entire bill would have exceeded $16,000. They’re living on a budget, so we thought it best just to let it go.
I know what you’re thinking. We could have paid off the house. But we’re family and who knows when we might need to live with them for three months, two weeks, six days, fourteen hours, nineteen minutes, and fifty-nine seconds. (Ruth says, “When hell freezes over.”)
Elizabeth, Sutton and Jonesy came to Michigan last summer, arriving on June 30th. They bunked with us off and on for a couple of months before heading back west. They came to Florida last winter and lived near us for four months. They headed back to Jerome in early April and have been living with us ever since (three months, two weeks, six days, fourteen hours, nineteen minutes and fifty-nine seconds).
They’ve lived their lives in three to four month chunks since April of 2018. They’ve outlined another chunk that will take them through October. They left yesterday for a couple of weeks in northern Michigan. The first will be in the lower peninsula and then they’ll be in the U.P. for a week. Ruth and I will join up with them a couple of times to make sure that they’re still heading north. Mike and Kate are coming in from California to join us in Munising and Marquette. David and his crew are joining us there too. It will be a grand adventure.
After singing their way through the upper peninsula, they are heading west through Canada, down the west coast and across to Arizona before spending the first two weeks of October in Mexico. They’ll run around the southwest United States through the end of October before landing in San Diego. They have job offers there, and I expect that they’ll stay for a while.
I’ve confirmed some beliefs and learned a few new things while the three hippies have been hanging with us.
Sutton is a good man. He’s solid. He lives a lifestyle that I could never follow, but it works for him, and more importantly, my daughter. He loves his music, is creative, knows how to cook, and eats more than any human I have ever met without gaining an ounce. It’s a gift. He has a presence that makes others feel at ease.
He’s taught me a few things on the computer, shared stories about growing up in California, and let me continue to beat him in golf. (He hits the ball a long way but never is really sure where it’s headed.) I’ve taught him how to use power tools and to wear shoes, not sandals, when you climb a ladder to clean the gutters on a house.
Elizabeth is very much the same woman that left for California in the fall of 2001. I just know her better now. She has a strong set of beliefs, compassion for others, and is still trying to figure out what’s next. Her last couple of years of high school, and then college, we saw each other but seldom spoke about the important stuff in life. She was always on her way to or from something like most people her age. (And exactly like me during my high school and college years.) She never really landed long enough for a truly meaningful conversation.
We’ve had more time to connect over the past year, and most of the time, we agree. We’re also smart enough to avoid the topics that we know will bring about conflict. She’s who she is and I am who I am. We have common goals but have taken different paths to get where we’re going.
Jonesy is another story. He’s the same hair shedding, tail wagging, food snatching dog that he’s always been. Spoiler alert. Ruth plans to make Jonesy a throw pillow from the dog hair that she’s gathered in both Florida and Michigan. He’s getting it for Christmas.
We’ve left him alone more in Michigan so more food has gone missing. He’s gobbled a couple of loaves of bread, a half dozen donuts, and several cookies. He was bold enough to wolf down a couple of chicken legs while we still sat at the dining room table. He stealthily pawed them off the table as we sat and talked.
He wined a bit more whenever the kids left the house. I think that’s in large part because he wanted to go fishing. Last summer he wanted to chase ducks and squirrels. This summer he learned to fish. He fished for hours and had a “catch and eat” mentality. The boy loves his sushi.
Friday evening Sutton asked what my plans for Saturday were after they pulled out of town. I replied, “You mean after the dance?”
He looked at me quizzically. “Is Brady going to another dance?”
“No, I’m having a celebration dance.”
“What are you celebrating?”
“Your departure.”
The truth is, we’ll miss them. All three. Ruth and I have lived differently with them around. We’ve traveled to more bars and honkey-tonks than I can shake a stick at. We’ve memorized a couple of dozen songs, drank more than our fair share of craft beer, and enjoyed living vicariously through, and with, the three hippies.
My biggest surprise of their departure was they decided to let Jonesy drive the first leg of the trip north. I guess that’s just how hippies roll.
