July 13th, Yes Trek Day 3



How Yann awoke first, early and chipper, was beyond me. Just being vertical was beyond me. I did manage to stand and walk weaving down the stairs, passing the halfnaked frame of Yann who was happily packing up and humming warmly in his deep voice. Wincing I walked to the kitchen, hand on head, to get water for aspirin. When Yann singsong said good morning I momentarily left my queasiness to question how it was he could be his usual self while I was feeling so someone else entirely. I returned to the angel bed to await the affects of the aspirin.


It seemed as if vertigo and vomit were to be the distinguishing factors of the day for me. I refused to accept pity from anyone -- I'd done this to myself -- but I was in need of care. I wasn't to realize until the following morning, once the haze in my head had cleared, that, truly, the most prominent qualities of Day 3 would be those of the kindness and consideration lavished upon me by my new friends and traveling companions. Yann endeared himself to me by fulfilling a request to prepare an infusion of Feverfew flowers. I had some fresh herbs in the cooler, a few remedies, for headache (Feverfew), nausea (Peppermint), sleeplessness (Chamomile) and colds (Echinacea root). He brought my herb container, I snipped the flowers into his cupped palms and he returned soon after with the bitter-tasting, steaming liquid. Merci, mon ami. Bill Maddock, too, showed himself a considerate soul by running out to a drug store without my knowledge and returning to ceremoniously present no less than three heartfelt varieties of upset stomach medicines. Nothing but the passage of time, however, would spell R-E-L-I-E-F for me. His magnanimous gesture of going and getting and giving did elicit a groan of gratitude from me, and I hope he noticed. Thank you, Bill.


The aspirin and tea eventually made it possible for me to maneuver back and forth between van and house enough times to pack up. Jeff had to leave first to get to a family barbecue and gave me a tape of his music to play on our way west. Bill hugged us all goodbye -- long, long, hugs from a tall, tall guy -- and he asked that we deliver one to Wendy on his behalf. (Ours would not be nearly as tall, but they were equally long.) I surely fell short of expressing my vast amount of gratitude to him and Jeff , too, for coming all that way to meet us. I hope they had an exceedingly fine time and felt it was well worth their while. I would have been more demonstrative in parting with both of them, but my ability to walk around was fast being replaced by a need to stretch out horizontally and not move.


Just as we were leaving, Don Dunn returned with his wife, Alicia, and my nephew, Devin. I was very glad to get to see them, so that all my dallying that morning paid off. We briefly exchanged how-do's and explained our goal of meeting online friends in the flesh while celebrating our passion for Yesmusic. I thanked the Dunns for their incredible act of generosity, and apologized for any inconvenience. They wouldn't accept regrets for anything, though, insisting that our pleasure was their pleasure.


yann, chris, merry, devin, don, alicia


Devin is with his dad during the summer, and I wondered if the reason he kept hugging me was because of my resemblance to his mom, my sister. I have a son about his age and I missed all my kids terribly, so as we were leaving, I asked him if I could just hold him awhile. Neither of us wanted to let go. When the van door finally slammed shut I was in tears and wondered how well the single young men in my party could relate or understand.


Chris and Yann commandeered the Trek, demonstrating not only an adeptness at driving and navigating, respectively, but proving to me that they both were caring, sensitive and trustworthy kinds of guys. Music selection was always the first order of business and they chose to listen to Kathy's "mystery tape," an assortment of songs she'd sent to try to challenge and stump us on our travels. We guessed a few of them. We hopped on Interstate 40, where we would spend many miles over the next two days. I was supine in the back, holding Jon, Chris' stuffed panther, with a silk herbal pillow over my face. The one tune I recognized on Kathy's tape, an Eno/Cale song from their Wrong Way Up, caused me to leap up and shout, a reaction I instantly regretted. Chris was driving and I informed him more than once on our way to Little Rock, Arkansas, of a red alert situation, that if the request came, could he please pull over immediately. Sorry to have so inadequate a description of this leg of the journey. My stomach does remember every bump in the road in Arkansas.


The reason for our planned stay in Little Rock was that J. Derek Furstenwurth would be arriving at the airport there in the early morning to accompany the Yestrek to Oklahoma City. The plan was to get a hotel room near the airport, easy enough, and I was glad that my input was not needed in any decisions for the rest of the day. I was free to wallow in


sick feeling sick reasoning


hoping only to cozy up to a clean porcelain receptacle. The decision to stay at a Holiday Inn came not a moment too soon. I heard a mockingbird singing in the parking lot, a promising sign of the eventual return of well-being. Tenderly I was guided to a room in a dizzy daze by Yann while Chris lugged my stuff. They were so nurturing: thank you again, guys! They left me with Jon-the-panther in peace to sleep while they enjoyed dinner and played video games. The rest of the day's events manage somehow to elude my memory of them. Zzzzzz.


my merry tale **** Day 4