“There's a field of green and an old red barn
Deep in the valley of hearts
If you want to go riding
In the tall green grass
Try to not spook the horse”-Neil Young
Marriages.
I have seen many.
3 of them involved me as the groom.
But that’s not the story I am here to tell. Maybe another time, on another page.
My last marriage was coming apart at the seams for a handful of years. My partner was queer, and her sexuality was leaning away from being with a male.
There were other digressions and issues as with any couple. That is not this story either.
We had a virtual whiteboard that we imagined in our heads as we lay strewn in bed during the early days of discovering each other.
Her identity was one of the topics we had on our virtual white board when we first discussed throwing our 2 families into a blender together.
Another one noted on that whiteboard was we needed some commitment to longevity.
We had both had multiple relationships in our past, but this was the first time either of us was going to have 6 kids sprouting from this family tree.
Discussions are good, but they are not predictions.
I know we both went into that big love with big faith.
We did the best we could with what we had, and I have no regrets.
The stories shaped me as they always do.
Riding along with that pack of humans into the future has been a remarkable experience.
The pain of hanging on through 2018 had brought me to a new level of grief , fear and depression over what I could sense was the end of 15 years together. The Brady Bunch was going to be no longer.
We never did get a Gladys.
My eldest son was getting married in October and I felt that after that things were going to end.
You know when your gut tells you something, but you try to avoid it to keep the peace and hope it might just fix itself. Like that sound you hear when you change gears on your car, and you know it is a problem but you don’t hear it ALL the time.
Maybe it will just go away. I don’t really want to see a mechanic or part with the dollars.
The story seemed to be already written and now we had to live it.
The sound was not going away….click…click….whirrrrrr.
Down in Woolloomooloo one afternoon she told me she could not do THIS anymore.
My tear ducts were damaged from crying already and not a tear was shed that day. The fight to persuade and keep the gang together had ended.
Surrender. Raise the flag.
Tears and many other emotions would be wept and parsed over the months ahead. Grief has a funny old way of moving through your being with a jagged uncharted path.
Life is full of emotion and change.
Many other things, too.
Co-habitation, until we could work out the house and finances, seemed like it might work. We were sleeping in separate rooms, and we crossed paths and continued to eat together at times with the kids who were still at home.
You could feel the tension as if your head was wrapped in rubber bands. Every once in a while things snapped and harsh words were exchanged. This was not good. It was not good for digestion either.
In addition, my soon-to-be ex-wife had found a lover.
This minefield had to be avoided and this living situation had to cease. I had no desire to rent out a place and I was a bit pissed off that it was up to me to take off, but that is the way it went.
There is never a script or stage directions when you walk this path.
A gypsy I became and throughout 2019 I began housesitting wherever I could.
Funnily enough, I grew to like it. It gave me time on my own and I had no rent to pay. I got to stay in other people’s houses with other folks’ pets and plants and gardens.
It was an adventure. It was healing.
2018 and 2019 brought me some very good things that I will write about in another piece. Some good friends, some plant medicine assistance and some healing.
Alone. Not lonely.
Friends and family kept me grounded and I focused on the road ahead.
I flirted with Tinder and Bumble. Had a couple of dates but I felt like I was looking to get laid and really that is not the normal operating procedure for me.
Taking myself aside I gave myself a good talking to one day on the train station at Milson’s Point.
Seriously, I needed a break from being part of a couple. I had been coupled up most of my adult life.
My journey had to be mine and I had to find the story I wanted to live.
Sex would have been an enjoyable distraction. For a moment.
Without making a declaration I entered a period of being celibate and travelling solo for close to 18 months.
I deleted those dating apps on the platform in Milson’s Point that day.
It was enlightening and I discovered some pieces of me that I had forgotten.
Humpty Dumpty was being put back together again.
I was focused on the journey and not on any destination. I pushed through the depression that seeped in at times and moved from house to house with my doona, sheets, and clothes in the boot of my car.
2020 came along and New South Wales was on fire.
My daughter was in from America for a visit.
Tizza, a very good mate, had hit his head at home and left hundreds of friends and tales behind. The huge party held in his honour was held in Manly just before the virus came to town.
The world was shaking.
Housesitting became impossible because no one could leave their houses.
The borders were about to be closed.
My daughter, Freya, had to make a choice of staying in Australia or going back to her life in California.
She chose to return to the USA and we were separated for over 2 years.
I had a son not talking to me which brought me great sadness. Someday I hope this will heal.
Things were a bit fucked up and my heart was taking hits.
I spent a good 6 weeks with my brother from another mother in his studio apartment in Redfern. 2 dudes in their 60s sequestered in a small space with one bed and a mattress on the floor.
I recall Nello going out on St.Patrick’s Day to have a few beers and I told him he was crazy and I doubted many people would be in the bars. People were getting scared.
Sounds dire, huh?
It was a remarkable time with Nello, my friend, and we solidified the friendship that had been growing over the years. We shared everything. We watched a whole bunch of YouTube projected on the wall of the studio, drank a bit, and laughed a bunch.
The COVID-19 period had commenced.
My finger was on the pulse with the news locally and around the world. Quite possibly it would have driven another soul crazy, but Nello appreciated the daily news updates.
Well, he did not complain about them. He knew as well as I that this would be over soon.
Surely?
Toward the middle of those 6 weeks, my niece and her husband offered me their huge beach house in Barwon Heads to rest my head. I love them and their 4 kids and I thought a trip to Victoria to ride out this short viral interruptus would be a sweet change.
A few weeks down along the Bellarine Peninsula sounded like a good way to shake things up. My office was closed and working remotely made it easy.
Anzac Day weekend I bid farewell to Nello and made the hike down to Victoria in my trusty VW EOS. I was looking forward to seeing Hamish and Charlie and their parents and the older boys Jacko and Lachlan. Social bubbles were not quite enforced yet. There were rumours and hearsay of harder lockdowns but I kept a positive outlook.
The Hume Highway was empty. It was downright eerie. But it made for fast driving as even the cops were nowhere to be seen. It was a quick and enjoyable drive down the Ghost Highway.
I spent some time in Moonee Ponds at the McDonald residence and then shot off to Barwon Heads where I spent a number of weeks working and hanging around the Peninsula seeing the sights, running into the odd seal, and enjoying the ocean.
The highlight was sleeping in a fucking bed again. I can sleep anywhere but my spine enjoyed the comfort of a mattress elevated off the floor.
Craziness was coming for all of us in the form of hard lockdowns and remote learning was enforced for a much longer time.
The Maccas were going to take over the beach house and they invited me to stay. That was a beautiful offer, but I did not want to impose on their family life.
Returning to the hood in Redfern after my beachside respite did not sound fantastic, but spending time with Nello is always good.
Alas, the Maccas said I could stay in their house in Moonee Ponds. It did not take me long to take them up on the offer. My thoughts were based on the idea that this Covid thing would not go on too long. Maybe I would even run into Dame Edna visiting her old hometown or Bill Shorten who lived nearby.
This was all new territory for everyone on the planet. No one could make plans and things looked dire in other parts of the world. My thoughts were we were on a big ass island isolated from most of the world and things would shift quickly back to some sort of normalcy.
Incorrect.
I was now alone in Moonee Ponds.
July 7th came along, and Dan Andrews announced that Victoria would be going into a hard lockdown from the 9th of July. This was going to be for 6 weeks. That did not sound too bad, but we all know this went on and off for many more months.
I knew no one down here except my relatives and one of my ex-wives. I had not seen or spoken to her in some time.
And of course, we were going to be locked up in our homes and seeing anyone unless they were on Zoom was not allowed.
Maybe I should go on Bumble, a dating website, to see if I could find someone to talk to or go for socially distant walks with.
The thought percolated and brewed and so I turned my account back on again.
I was hungry.
Being served food at a table by someone you don’t know was about to stop for some time. I wandered down to My Little Bento in Moonee Ponds to have some Japanese Food.
I ordered a salad, sashimi, gyoza, sake and a beer. 美味しい or delicious in my common tongue.
As I waited on my order, I looked at Bumble and swiped left on a number of people and right on some others.
Things were about to explode.
End of Part 1
