"Where the hell were you!?"
"Sharee?"
"Your phone rang twenty times; where were you?"
"Right here, sleeping. How come you'd call me at this number, this time of night?
"l called upstairs and Bob said you were in the shop. He said he talked to you ten minutes ago".
"And Bob is an honest man. What's on your mind, at two:twenty-eight:forty-two AM on this fine tuesday? Where are you, by the way?"
"l'm in Escondera, Gid. At Garth's mom's place. While you were in Jamaica, he was diagnosed with a fast-growing cancer in his spleen. His mom wanted him to come here to be treated by a doctor she met at a fund-raiser who, she said, has had some successes with this kind of cancer and wanted to treat Garth. Chances for success are still very low; it's more likely that he'll die within 8 or 9 months".
"Oh, Shares, l'm so sorry. l hope that doctor can have success with him. And, you know, from what l read and hear and view, modern medicine is gaining on that disease in general. A doctor with a few successes behind him seems to me like a good place to start,too. You have plenty good reason to be on the optimistic side, don't you think?"
She agreed, but said she had some misgivings about the doctor. she didn't elaborate and l didn't press her for details. l told her to call me if she needed anything and asked for a phone number where l could reach her. She gave me her mother's phone as well as her address, "in the unlikely event that you want to visit", she said. l told her that l, and others at GofE, missed her and hoped she could soon be back among us. She said she missed us too,and was anxious to get back to us and to San Francisco. Even so, there was something about our goodbye that made me think it would be our last one.
After our miserable little talk, l went back to bed, but not back to sleep. ln a little while, l got up and took a walk to Alta Plaza Park. l sat on a bench there and fell asleep, to be awakened by the risen Sun. Sometime earlier, a park maintenance crew had arrived and begun their work. Unfortunately, their foreman was not my buddy, Sal, a park maintenance foreman l'd met at Alta Plaza my first visit there, nearly three years earlier. Had he been on duty that morning, the police would not have been called; he surely would have been surprised to see me sleeping on a bench, but he would have wakened me and asked if he could help. l was not happy to see the policeman walking, what looked like directly toward me. l picked myself off the bench and began a rapid exit from the park. l figured the cop gave up when he chose not to run after me. lt wasn't long before l knew why: as l was about to exit the park onto Clay St, a fast-moving black and white came to a screeching stop a foot in front of me. (lt's lucky l have the "always look both ways" habit.)
l know, when it comes to cops, anything less than complete co-operation can be interpreted as resistance or maybe even obstruction. And be careful not to touch the officer, lest you be charged with battery. Even what you say could get you in trouble. Anything that might be considered a threat could bring a charge of assaulting an officer. This comes to you as first-hand knowledge for l ignored what l knew that day and wound up being booked into SFJail on one count each of sleeping in the park,resisting arrest and assault and battery of a police officer. Of course, the police can make any charges they please, but without sufficient evidence the D.A. can't. So, l was allowed to plead guilty to one count of sleeping in the park and one count of creating a public nuisance. Considering the small degree of suffering that my "crime" caused my fellow citizens, l thought my sentence (six days) bordered on draconian. Having spent three nites and three days in the SFJail just the previous week, l was fit-to-be-tied going in, but wouldn't you know?, honest to Gid, some previous occupant had left, in the cell assigned to me, a copy of Lobsang Rampa's Guide to Astral Traveling! Check it out. For me, it was a very enjoyable three day read, followed by following the guide to and thru some amazing experiences over the next lightning-fast three days. lt's all in your head; but that doesn't make it any less real; no experience is until it reaches your head.
"Hey, it's the same cabby that picked me up here last week, Herman, isn't it?"
"Germain. Yeah, l do remember picking you up last Monday. You went to a..a place, was it a church?, in the Western Addition. No. lt was a bar. Clancey's on Divisadero, right?"
"You are exactly correct, Germain. Extremely good memory! Let's go there again".
"That's our next stop, reverend, just minutes away.(and after a minute-or-so) Seeing you come out of the jail, two Mondays in a row, l wonder if you might be among those spending weekends in jail to satisfy a DUI sentence".
"Hey, you even remembered my connection to that church; can you bring up the name of the church? But no, l'm not a DUI,just an idiot that didn't handle my parking tickets with any responsibility and a stupido who lost my temper all over a couple cops, about very nearly nothing, having already learned better. l came out of jail, last Monday at about 4:10pm and was booked in to SFJail the next day at 11:44am. Less than a full day! l hope l do better this time".
"ls it Garden Gate ?"
"You are amazing,Germain. lt's not Garden Gate. lt's Gates of Eden, but you got the gate, and garden is the word usually connected with Eden! What a memory!
"lt gets a lot of exercise in this work".
Clancey's had no dining room but had five or six items on their dinner menu every day, which were served at the bar. That day, the corned-beef and cabbage was the special. After just about ten days of jailhouse food l was so ready for whatever they had. And usually the specials there, really were. That time was no exception: l emptied and polished my plate so well and so quickly that a second helping was served to me "on the house". When l mentioned that my voracity was the result of mostly refusing to eat what was served in jail, Ron,the bar-tender offered a third, saying l needed to replenish lost nutrients. l asked if it would be all right for me to come back tomorrow for it and he, and those nearby, laughed.
On my way out of Clancey's, l tried Laurie May's number, but got no answer. l began walking home. As l neared home, l saw the GofE van, parked at our front steps with parking lights, emergency flashers and interior lights all on and the curb-side doors open. As l reached it and looked in, it was apparent that some moving was taking place (or was about to). Packed boxes, a few musical instruments, in their cases and a few pieces of furniture were present. My thought was to wonder who was moving in and which flat would they move into. lt didn't occur that someone might be moving out. After nosing around the van for another minute or two, l started up the stairs to flat#1 and almost immediately met Bob and his lady friend with their arms full of their own stuff, heading for the van.
Just in the nick of time, some necessary background on the GofE Van. Right, it really was special enough to be capitalized (at least once). lt's working life began the day it left Keystone Ford in Apple Creek, Ca. lt started out as a 1970 E300, long wheelbase with 302v8 engine and 4 sp. auto trans. Bob and Carmen (his lady friend) had purchased it with a down payment of $2,000 that they had won together at the Thunderbird in Las Vegas. With very few changes they put together a pretty comfortable little rolling home in which they traveled about northern California for several months before they found their way to GofE. At the time of their arrival, we had many needs for a truck like their van, especially if it could be improved. ln a few days GofE and Bob and Carmen came to an agreement which allowed that Bob and l would make the improvements to the van:Raise the roof 18",add a few easily-removable seats, some adjustable shelving and some overload springs. GofE treasury would pay the monthly payment so long as the van was made available to us. Either party could, with three days advance notice, terminate the agreement. Or immediately, really. None of it was written down, since it wasn't meant to be enforced in any legal way. lt was just meant to inform the parties what was expected of them.
l soon realized that l'd had it backwards; lt was Bob and Carmen doing the move and they certainly weren't moving in. Very little prompting on my part provoked Bob to a complete explanation for their move. l'll spare you most of the details and save us both some time:
One of the three nites l spent in SFJail for the unpaid parking tickets, Bob and Carmen stayed late at the dinner table to talk to Roena about her life at GofE. lt was a pumping up the ego session to see what she might spill while she was brimming with self-esteem. it turned out that Carmen had worked a few years in banking before she and Bob took to the road. Something about our treasurery or the way it was used by Roena and Sharee aroused Carmen's suspicion. l never understood accounting but l thought our finances would be the simplest imaginable. But then, l never had anything to do with our accounts. (l never so much as looked at a statement; it was not part of my "job description") From the time Roena and l were first together, she had control of our family purse strings, so it was natural for her to assume that role when we started GofE. Before we met, she had worked as a book-keeper so there was no hesitation to accept her being in charge of the money. When Roena learned that Sharee taught business courses at the University she asked her to take over as Treasurer, so Roena could devote more time to her practice as a consulting Astrologer.
So, Bob and Carmen, being convinced that, either Roena or Sharee, seperately or the two together, had been paying for personal purchases with church funds. And Bob and Carmen figured that since l was married to one of them and had a "relationship" (as Bob said) with the other, l had to be part of it. l still don't understand how someone, not a signatory, could get transactions information on our account. Hell, l was the pastor of that church, but since my name was not on the account, my later attempt to have a look for myself,was denied. So, to this day, l don't know if there was any chicanery or if Bob and Carmen had suspicions that they talked themselves into believing. Whatever the case, they were both convinced and nothing l could say would persuade them to stay. l learned a couple of days later that what probably pushed them over the edge was my being missing for a few days just after talking on the phone with Sharee. He had answered the house phone when she called for me and told her l could be reached on the shop phone. (As you might recall.) When he didn't find me in the shop the next morning, he presented his suspicions to everyone at GofE who would listen and after l'd been missing a few more days, most of our "permanent" residents were considering leaving. (l didn't phone home to say l was in jail because l was not going to bail and l couldn't bring myself to admit that l was back in jail after being out less than a day, l thought that if anyone did wonder where l was, they'd probably figure l was at Sharee's--at that time, l often was--and l had no idea what Bob was up to. My encounter with Lobsang Rampa's Guide to Astral Traveling also added to my not being circumspect.)
Maybe not with the same words in the same order, but l explained my position to them as completely as l have for you. But they were of firm resolve and in less than an hour of back-and-forth, they got in the van, Bob said he'd be in touch and they drove off, never to be seen, or heard from,(by me) again.
When they had gone, l went into the shop to maybe listen to some music and watch a light-box. lt crossed my mind to call Sharee. l called the number she had given me (unless l wrote it down wrong) and got a "number not in service" recording. l carefully dialed again and got the same recording.
end of Visit with Rastas in Jamaica part 13
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