The future is exciting but scary.
July 3, 2011
What a restless night I had last night. Alex and I are in Idaho at our usual place in Sandpoint. Our pals Ray and Jeannie Lucia and Joe and Susan Lucia are visiting us. We went up to Priest Lake yesterday afternoon and, with the guidance of our pal, Tim Farmin, made our way up a very choppy Lower Priest Lake to the top, where there is a “Thoroughfare” that winds twistily (not a word) through complete wilderness to Upper Priest Lake. I mean, this place is truly uncharted territory. Immense fallen trees, waterfowl, forest so dense you cannot see into it more than a few feet. This is wilderness.
I had only been up there once before, with Craig Hill. On that trip, there was only one other person at Upper Priest, a windsurfer who had hiked in. There are no roads in or even well trodden paths.
However, yesterday there were about a dozen little boats and kayaks and maybe a dozen people to be seen making camp on the edge of the forest. Imagine that most of this nation was once forest like that. Pave paradise, put up a parking lot.
No, let me be honest. I find the forest frightening. I like parking lots. Especially if there are Chik-Fil-A shops nearby.
Anyway, we sped around the upper lake and then headed back to Hill’s Resort, where my boat is docked for the summer. There were hundreds of college age boys and girls calling my name and then shouting “Clear Eyes” and “Bueller, Bueller.”
A pretty girl with an amazing tan and tattoos on her side just below her bikini top came up to me and whispered urgently, “I think you are sooo sexy. Can we hang out later tonight?”
“You’re kidding,” I said. “I’m a fat old man.”
“No. I think you’re really sexy,” she hissed and hugged me while someone took a photo of her and me. “Can we hang out?”
“Not really,” I said. “I’m having dinner with these people,” and pointed at the Lucias and Tim. She winked and walked away. Then she came back and asked if she could text me. Then she walked away.
Still, I do love Hill’s.
Then, back to Sandpoint. I stopped at the Dairy Depot to pick up a huckleberry milkshake for my wife, whose throat is bothering her. After the counterman made my shake and took my tip, he asked, “Would you prefer I call you ‘Ben’ or ‘Mr. Stiller?’.”
“‘Mr. Stiller’ is fine,” I said.
Back to where my ailing wife was lying in bed waiting for the milkshake. Some nice chatter with the Lucias and then to bed. Strange, premonitory dreams of war. Of civil war.
When I awakened this morning, my wife was already on the phone.
Big, big news. Our son and his wife, the staggeringly beautiful Kitty, have had their baby. She is a spectacularly lovely 7 pound girl whom we are to call “Coco,” which is short for her real name, Alexis Cora Stein.
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