Charity Galore!

I arrived at Jessie's house a little earlier than Tim. I wasn't sure if Jessie's husband would be expecting guests or not, so I hesitated when I pulled up to the big yellow house, setting my bike down across the street, fiddling with some bungie cords, retying my shoes, looking left and right down the street half hoping to see Jessie or Tim approaching: an empty street. I collected what courage I had and knocked on the door. There was a bit of fumbling around inside and then Steve was in the door frame welcoming me. Jessie had called him earlier and he'd been expecting visitors, though he wasn't sure how many. I told him that another would be here soon enough, and that Tim had mentioned that he had a riding partner about a day behind him, but no one could say when she'd arrive.

Steve took me to the backyard and I helped him to move some things out of the way to make room. The yard had been allowed to grow naturally and wild. It was welcoming and comfortable for me. Steve and Jessie exuded an easy and humble kindness as if letting someone camp in your yard were commonplace and even expected.

Tim arrived after I had set up my tent and our conversation picked up about where we had left off. Jessie arrived home from work and later brought out two bowls of lentil and carrot stew which she had made for dinner. Unexpected home cooked cuisine and never ending hospitality! I rested, comforted, and watched as, to the west behind the hills and grids of streets the sky began to fade to darkness. The clouds were carried south on the wind, flowing just above the streetlights and the peaks of the houses and it was a peaceful night even among all this constructed nonsense.

The clouds passing just over the hills in Coos Bay

The next day began with oatmeal, followed by Steve's coffee, then a problem was found with Tim's brakes. Steve, Tim, and I combined our surprisingly small intellects and, after about two hours, we finally figured out the simple solution. Tim said it was nice to actually have some time to hang out with our hosts. Always being on the move allows you only a moment to get to know the people you meet, if it's even correct to say that you do “get to know them” in such a small span of time.

We lingered a bit, but by the time noon was approaching we pushed off and were pedaling down the street toward Highway 101. I followed behind Tim, his head bobbing side to side to the rhythm of the music in his headphones. We glided downhill toward an intersection, then through a four-way stop, and I heard a man yelling at us from his truck that stop signs were meant for us, too. Tim took no notice. I'm not sure if he hadn't heard or just didn't care. I kindly waved and smiled to the man. He responded with a disgruntled glare.

Tim rode faster and with fewer breaks than I was used to. I tend to get distracted easily and take a lot of pictures. He didn't really use his camera except to take pictures of what people he met. In contrast I only took pictures of scenery, being too timid to ask people if they'd mind a portrait. So we rode steadily through the forest and hills, taking only a single break. Tim stretched and I emptied myself of the morning's coffee and drank some water.

When we came into the next town, whose name I can't remember right now (and I am sorry, but just don't feel like pulling out and shuffling through my maps at the moment as I'm in a fairly comfortable position on the couch), the road led us by the town's health food store and Tim led us off of the road into its parking lot. He had mentioned to me the day before how he had acquired food stamps when he was in Portland. Immediately upon hearing the words "food stamps" I was unquestionably opposed. We shared a general disapproval of our government (and perhaps the institution as a whole) and so he explained his justification of accepting the government's money in this way: if the money was given to friendly, locally-run health food markets, such as this one, and put towards products made by companies following good ethical standards, then, quite simply, he was taking action to put the government's money to good use. Less money for making bombs, more money supporting conscientious people and practices. This was a totally foreign approach to something I had always considered morally black and white. I had spent the night scrutinizing this idea and surprisingly I found excitement welling up inside me, but going further into this thought would lead us to events which take place a few days later (and you can probably guess where they lead anyway), so for the sake of chronology we'll return to where we were: hopping off of our bicycles,and lying them against the tree which stood tall and proud in the center of a circle of bricks in the exact middle of the parking lot. Tim and I walked into the grocery store.

Tim sauntered about, wandering among the shelves, indecisive about what to get. I asked where the bathroom was. When I returned he was eating an apple and he explained that he'd gotten it by asking if they had any bruised produce. Why had I never thought of doing that?

I followed him around, walking through the aisles, feeling nostalgic. It had been a long time since I'd been in a nice market like this. My money had been whittled away a long while ago and I no longer had the privilege of choice. Since about halfway into Washington I'd generally had the routine of eating one packet of ramen for breakfast, two for lunch, and a pot of rice for dinner every night. Tim pulled a block of soft cheese from the arrangement in the dairy cooler, and then chose one from the many different bags of corn chips on an adjacent shelf. He grabbed a few apples and then went to the counter.

The man behind the register handed Tim a plastic bag filled with kiwis, peaches, and so many other fruits and vegetables and said with a smile and a kind look in his eyes, “Found these in the back, too. Feel free to take them.” Then out from the door frame behind him came his wife with some free samples they'd received. Raw flax seed crackers and bars, and a box of probably gluten-free wheat thins were added to the collection. Smiles stretched across both our faces. Appreciation doesn't fully describe it. Once again “thank you” felt totally insufficient.

We went out behind the store to eat and soon Tim felt that we needed to go back into the store and get a picture with these amazing people. It sounded like a good idea to me, and soon enough we were all in front of the store and someone walking by snapped a picture of four people who barely knew each other, resting their arms on each others' shoulders, happiness shown clearly on all their faces.