IV. Getting Ready

IV. Getting Ready

Several seemingly positive things happened right after she got back from Eagle. First off, she seemed to have a renewed interest in me, particularly in sex; we had many lovely romantic encounters in the basement, my room, with  an expanded repertoire of Kama Sutra positions, including blow jobs and rear entry, treatments she normally reserved for my birthday; I was delighted with this new development, never thinking for a moment that it was a symptom of the manic phase of a bipolar episode which was soon to plunge her into a suicidal depression.  We also received incredible news that she had received a Howard fellowship, a distinguished literary fellowship which came with $20,000 grant, $10,000 now, $10,000 in January;  my first thought, was that we might be able to use this money to get us out of some of our and credit-card debt, which was the most  overwhelming financial burden we had to bear--it was not to work out this way.  But the most critical news, even more important than the Howard Foundation Fellowship, was that she had received a Steinbeck Fellowship; an invitation to fulfill a nine month residency at the University of California, San Jose.  

The Steinbeck Fellowship was an opportunity to spend nine months in Southern California, very near with where Tina's ancestor had spent a good portion will of her life  before moving to Alaska.  Accepting the fellowship would mean not only that she could add to to her already impressive list of credentials, that she could do specialized research on details of her ancestors life in San Francisco, garner more recognition from the literary elite in that major metropolitan area (including famous writers and agents, work in a concentrated block of time  on her book, and, coincidentally, spend more time away from me.  The money part of the fellowship and was a paltry $7,000  barely enough to pay rent for nine months, but we thought she could take care of any extra expenses out of the Howard money.  It was a blow to me to think of being separated from her for practically an entire additional year, after being separated from her for such a long time this past year, but I was supportive and excited by the prospect that she would really get it together and  write her book, which we both thought would be the beginning of a whole new future for us.   This all came down at the beginning of June.

One of the things we liked about our place in  Idaho, was that our house was a block and a half away from the edge of town.  We had a little nature walk, that we took  routinely for exercise, (and to deal with the dog), that included a pleasant  passage through trees, and a long path on a Hillside above the road into the surrounding countryside;  city planners would call this area  a buffer, because it separated the neighborhood from  a strip of city buildings including the sewage plant and the dog pound. Beyond this strip were numerous cow pastures on which we often saw roaming herds of deer and an occasional Coyote.  We had three routes:  the short route, through the trees and around the  hillside;  the medium route, down the hill through a sparsely populated neighborhood of three or four houses with many barking dogs; and the long route,  that led down the road into the farm  country, the lentil and wheat fields, past the enclosures of cattle, horses, and llamas, who observed our passage with the most intense interest for the full five minutes it took to walk past them, sometimes strolling up to the  barbwire fence to get a closer look.  

These walks were our favorite time of day: they not only allowed us to partake of the pastoral bliss for which we had given up big city life, but they allowed us to talk together, and be together without the intrusion of music, or children, or money.  Oh, how cherished these talks! It may not be apparent from the text of this book, but I'm not much of a talker; when it comes to matters of Music and Art I have much to say, and take a long time to say it, but in all other matters, political, social, local, personal, I'm fairly tight-lipped.  It is Tina who has so many interesting things to say about all these issues, and I adore her when she goes off into a tangent attacking George Bush, or ranting about environmental issues, or family matters.  She is an an encyclopedic fount of knowledge, and can chatter gaily, or animatedly on many subjects, for many minutes at a time; and, although many of these issues are not of deep interest to me, to listen to my dearest love speak, elucidate, tirade, and wander through random verbal terrain's was the most intense  pleasure to me.  

It was on these walks, that we began to discuss plans for the coming year, and to review the past year, often dwelling upon her time in Eagle.  She was very enamored of Eagle; she had had such a deeply satisfying, and peaceful experience there, she began to speak of moving there as a dream that the publication of her book might make come true.  We had spoken often of how much we liked being separated for short periods of time during the year, and she once broached the subject of whether I thought I could ever share her--share her with a place, she  meant.  I told her how much I had  missed her during the year, but, yes, I supposed we could continue quite successfully with the pattern we have initiated this year of having periods of separation followed by a joyful sex filled returns.  I told her in a jocular manner that I did not think I could ever share her with another man; little did I know what a wrong answer that  was.  

About that time the Alaska forest fires, which were a typical feature of far northern summers, began to ignite, and the news told of how Eagle in particular was threatened by one of these fires.   Tina seemed inordinately worried by this development; she justified her anxiety to me, by telling me she had become so attached to the town that the thought of any of it being burned was distressful to her.  She kept in constant touch with Dan Tucker over this, and I even spoke to him one time on the phone when he called to tell her that all was well.  I thanked him for the call.  Hindsight reveals these two events, the  introduction of the idea of sharing, and the  many calls  to and from Dan Tucker, as significant; but with my aspergers blind spot firmly in place, I had no clue that a conspiracy was developing up around me, and before my very  blind stupid eyes. 

All this interest in Alaska  motivated Tina to do more research into the possibilities of my involvement with that state.  She knew that many villages in Alaska were cut off from any kind of  big city culture, and that there were a certain number of grants available to fund plane trips, by itinerant artists, into the backwoods (we say “the bush”) to give short seminar-like presentations and activities in music, art, and writing, etc.  Consequently,  one night she did an internet search for " itinerant music teacher ." She came up with a hit from the Bear Creek School District advertising for, of all things, an itinerant music teacher.  

Now, one of the professional possibilities that I had considered closed to me, because of my inability to get any kind of institutional employment, was the idea of teaching music in the public schools.  The fact is that I had held a job in a San Jose school district for a semester, when we lived in Santa Cruz; it was an emergency situation, and I had been hired as a " consultant. " I was a huge hit, and had actually begun the process of getting my teaching credential, when I learned that the school district had  had its budget cut by $1,000,000, and my music program had evaporated into thin air.  I also once applied for a job in our town in Idaho, but the small-town gossip had prepared my way, and I had no chance.  

Therefore, because of the thought of: wasting my time going to college for another two years to get a teaching credential, so that I could be disappointed once again by the news that no one would hire me; I never considered this to be a real possibility. Imagine my surprise when the Bear Creek School District not only expressed an interest in me, knew of a way I could come on board right away without a teaching credential, but were also willing to pay half my air fare to come up and interview for the job.  I told them right up front about my aspergers condition, and not to waste my time and money if they had a problem with it; the superintendent told me that not only was it not a problem, but they would be in violation of the law to hold such a disability against me in the hiring process.  This phone conversation took place on Tuesday; by Friday I had the job, and everything was changed, and events were set in motion which would roll over us like a storm, like a tidal wave, like a holocaust.