Road Trip

June completed the thought, "We don't see Kim and Ron nearly enough. They're always welcome and always loved when they're here. You will love the two of them."

June disappeared in mid-afternoon to retrieve Benjamin from his playgroup with some other two-year olds. After they returned the sun came out. June got me to take a walk with Benjamin and her for a couple of blocks to a playground where the tot played on swings, slides, and teeter-totters aimed at his age group. He basked in the attention and readily accepted me as another one of his daddies.

As we walked and watched Benjamin running around, I asked June about how she thought Benjamin would think about the circle, as he got older.

She responded, "Well, he's the most loved kid of any I know. We're all his loving parents – by choice. He'll have a sibling soon, although nothing's underway right now. The five of us talked about it. What one of us does affects all of us, so we're extra considerate of major steps like adding to the local population. We have family 'pow-wows' every now and then to talk about stuff like that."

When we got back from the playground, I tested the motorcycle again after all my work; however, the engine's roughness persisted, and seemed as bad as when it had first appeared. The carburetor and filters could not be the problem. I'd also checked the cams and timing, and all were right on specification. I even re-ran a couple of other checks.

I stood staring at the bike, wondering what to tackle next, when Bob appeared and declared a start to the cocktail hour. Glad to halt my frustration with the bike, I followed him into the doubly large back yard. Bob said that Jan, Jim, and Trish were all on their way to the house, and true to his word, three cars soon pulled into the driveway each about ten minutes apart, Jan and Jim from different Alperion offices and Trish from the Philadelphia airport.

While I'd seen Bob a few times over the past decade, I'd not seen Trish since their wedding. She gave me a twenty-four carat smile, and followed it up with a crackling kiss that curled my toes. By now, I'd figured out that was the family greeting for good friends.

Bob made sure everyone had refreshments, and that Benjamin had proper attention in a backyard sandbox. I watched his interaction with Benjamin, noting how he doted on the child just as a proud father would. Bob and Trish had married when Bob was halfway through his military stint; they started their family right away and had two children by the time Bob left the military and started college. Their two children were already out of the nest. I made a mental note to ask what their grown kids thought about the circle.

Soon, we were all seated at a large picnic table having dinner. Since I'd had little to do with preparation, I insisted on being on the cleanup crew. That request improved my status in the group.

Each person in their circle talked about what their day had been like. I noticed the emphasis on how they felt about what had happened, instead of just giving a status report. Feelings meant a lot to these people, and they wanted each other to feel good about life and each other. Much to my surprise, I had to report on my day, when I could express my frustration at not solving the motorcycle engine problem and express my gratitude for the attention and love that I felt with them, particularly from June that day as she visited with me for hours as I worked.

June looked exceptionally pleased that I singled out her keeping me company during the day. Everyone else also looked pleased that I'd gotten in the spirit of the circle. People went off in different directions to their projects after we ate. I helped Jim do the dishes and pans, and then I got to read four children's books to Benjamin as he sat on my lap in his PJs. June hovered nearby ready to put the toddler to bed.

Tears came to my eyes at one point; I had to blink them away. The situation in Benjamin's room with June, Benjamin, and me was so 'Family,' and it took me back to the plans that Karen and I had to be this way too. I had to pause a few seconds in my reading to blink away tears. June had caught my momentary mood and looked at me with compassion.

I got a goodnight hug from Benjamin, and helped June tuck-in the toddler.

As we came out of his room, June pulled me into a hug. She said, "I saw you tear up in there. Was that about Karen?"

I just nodded and allowed her to cushion my head into her shoulder.

She held me tightly until I felt better. I'd let a few tears flow down my cheeks, but they soon stopped. We parted, June kissed me tenderly, and then we went downstairs. Just that small interaction with June made me feel so loved by this group ... by June.

I logged on to the Internet with my small laptop. I had short 'How are you?' messages from both Anna and Lauren. I answered both emails with a travelogue on my trip. In the one to Anna, I omitted my sexual experiences with Lauren, figuring that might be TMI – too much information – to share with my sister. In my email to Lauren, I told her I recalled fondly all the 'time' we had spent together. I knew she wanted details about some sordid sexual encounter; however, I told her about my chaste journey since I'd left her.

I heard a 'goodnight' or two from various combinations of people in the circle, so I headed off to my assigned guest room too. I remember chuckling to myself that Lauren would be disappointed that no one had jumped my bones during the week or so we'd been apart.

After a morning run with Bob and June, a meditation period, breakfast, and a play session with Benjamin before June took him to his playgroup, I sat in the garage studying the motorcycle. I made a mental list of the few things I could think of to try to stop the rough running engine.

Soon, I had the various wiring harnesses pulled off the bike. I put a meter to each wire, tested for loose connections, and replaced everything. Things did checkout, but in a short test drive the roughness remained.

About that time, June appeared with a glass of ice water for me. The morning temperature was rising rapidly. She held out the glass to me, and I stared at it with a look of awe.

Eureka!

I danced around the garage saying, "You solved it. You solved it. You fixed the bike."

June continued to hold the glass and wondered what she'd just done that made me react so wildly. I hugged her and planted a big kiss on her cheek, as I expressed my thanks for her remarkable insight.

I just knew I had bad gas in the tank, probably with some water in it. I guessed that as I rode, and the gas jostled around, some of the water would get into the gas line and give me the intermittent hesitation and rough running. June found me a five-gallon pail that I cleaned, and then drained the bike's gas into. When I studied the gas at the bottom of the bucket, I could see large bubbles of water. I'd gotten a dose of bad gas at my last stop. Now, why hadn't I thought of that?

I ran the bike dry to clear the fuel lines completely, siphoned off about a gallon of 'good' gas from the bucket, and put that back into the bike. I poured off most of the rest into a gas can Bob and Jim used for lawn mowers and such, and then dumped the small part with the water in it in a harmless location. I'd get more gas later. The bike ran smoothly again – finally!

I grabbed June as the bike sat outside the garage smoothly idling; I did a little dance of glee and happiness with her, and she laughed at my further antics with her. We both learned something about engines that morning.

June and I sat and talked over a leisurely lunch. Bob appeared, wolfed down some food, and then disappeared to his home office again. After lunch, I excused myself to find a legitimate gas station, buy some gas, and get some dry gas or other suitable fuel additive to further cleanse the gas lines and filters. Using June's directions, I found a gas station about three miles away where I put in some dry gas and topped off the gas tank.

With the lovely weather, I decided to run the bike on the back roads to test the bike and its new gasoline. I'd gone about five miles when a police car passed me with the siren and lights, going about ninety miles an hour. Soon, two fire trucks rushed past. Two miles further up the rural road, I caught a glimpse of the blinking emergency vehicle lights outside a house and barn across a field on my right. A heavy swirl of dark smoke rose from a top doorway on the barn. Without a thought, I headed straight for the house and barn.

The policemen and four firemen appeared torn with indecision when I ran up to them from where I'd parked the motorcycle. I asked, "What can I do to help? I'm trained in fire rescue." Some days, I think my Special Ops training covered everything in the universe.

They shrugged, except for one fireman who said, "This is old man Shubert's barn. He keeps his guns and ammo in the barn. Any minute some of that stuff will start going off."

I asked, "What else is in there?"

The cop said, "A bunch of horses, some sheep, and who knows what else?"

"Where's Shubert?"

"Probably drunk in the house or at O'Leary's Tavern," one of the firemen speculated.

My next question seemed to stop them cold; "Could he be in the barn?"

They all looked at each other and shrugged. I gathered that 'Old Man Shubert' did not rank high on their popularity list.

One of the firemen attached a hose and nozzle to a pumper truck so they could start to hose down the barn from a distance. They were skittish of the ammunition in the barn.

As they stood there watching the smoke billowing from the upper windows and doors on their side of the barn, I briskly walked around to the other side of the barn in a wide arc. The entire barn appeared wooden with few windows. Consistent with this part of the country, it had been painted red many years earlier.

Another set of doors in the rear opened to a paddock. I ran up to the doors and pulled them open. Inside, I could see several pens of animals. Two horses were rearing and carrying on as the smoke-filled air panicked them. I opened each stall, and shooed each animal out of the barn to the large paddock. A half dozen sheep were next, and then some goats.

I heard a shot above me. "Crap," I thought. The heat had fired off at least one round of ammunition this farmer kept up there. The thought had just passed through my mind, when two more rounds went off.

I ran through the barn holding my breath. I could barely see, but I discerned there were no more animals on the ground level. As I ran back to the doors I'd entered, I saw a ladder going up to a loft. Something told me I had to have a look up there, even at the risk of some stray bullet hitting me as things heated up.

I took a great gulp of clean air outside the barn, ran back into the smoky inferno, and raced up the ladder. At the top, I had to breathe again, but I kept near the floor and got a good breath. I looked around.

An elderly man in jean overalls lay unconscious on the floor. Ten feet away further away from him flames had started to consume several bales of hay; beyond them the entire upper floor raged in flames.

Coughing now, I got the heavy man over my shoulder and headed back to the ladder. I got us down, not helped as two of the rungs broke under the weight of the farmer and me. I held on, and we didn't fall. Still coughing, I ran out the back door of the barn and into the paddock carrying the man over my shoulder. As I burst out of the door, several animals that had remained close to the barn scattered further away.

I gave a yell for help, as I carefully lowered the man onto a safe patch of ground. I yelled again with more force, and then started CPR on the farmer. I recalled some more of my Special Ops training: we each had to take a basic course as a field medic, and I'd used those skills more than once.

The farmer had a weak pulse, but good skin color. After a couple of minutes, a policeman and an EMS tech raced up to us with a respirator. As I backed away and sat on my haunches, I let the EMS crew take over. A two-man television news crew had arrived and started to video the scene. The reporter came up to me as I left the paddock and as the cameraman continued to film; he asked my name, my background, how I happened to be there, and other details about the rescue I'd just made.

As we spoke, the entire barn became a huge inferno inside and out. More and more pops of ammunition indicated we remained in a dangerous area. At the urging of another fireman, the news crew and I moved behind the nearby house for some protection from the heat and ammo. The fire crew was now in full force and doing their thing to knock down the fire and minimize damage.

I watched as the ambulance crew loaded the barely conscious man I'd rescued into it, and then speed away. Another policeman thanked me, and told me I'd probably saved the man's life – Old Man Shubert. I shrugged and for five more minutes continued to watch the fire consume the barn from behind one of the fire trucks.

After watching for a while, I realized I couldn't help any further, so I got on my motorcycle and rode away. The motorcycle continued to run smoothly, a point that made me exceptionally happy after poking at the problem for a day and a half. I headed back to Bob's home.

June yelled at me as I started to come inside the house; "NO! You smell like a bonfire. Go out! Go out! Take those clothes off, put them in this plastic bag, and I'll wash them. Here, you can put this towel around you; go shower. Ugh, you stink! Where did you go? What have you been doing?"

I explained in one brief sentence that I'd helped at the scene of a barn fire, as I stripped my clothing away. June left the garage and reappeared just as I wrapped the towel around myself.

I scrubbed and scrubbed in the shower until I got the smoky odor off my body. Because I traveled light, I had to sit around with a towel around me while my jeans and other clothes went through the washer and dryer. June also declared my shoes had to remain outside the rest of my visit; she found me a pair of Bob's clogs I could wear meanwhile. I tried to wash my shoes outside in the backyard with a strong solution of detergent; the odor abated but didn't disappear. I guess they'd be 'outside shoes' for a while. It took two cycles through the washing machine with lots of detergent and softener before June declared my clothes to be odor-free.

While the wash had been going through, June and I had sat outside and chatted some more. We both seemed to successfully ignore the fact that I sat naked except for a bath towel tucked around my waist.

I remained fascinated with the idea of the Circle, so asked whether June could tell me more about it.

June thought for a minute, "Well, we're deeply attached to each other. As you know, Bob and Trish have two grown children, so Bob and Trish opted not to have any more children. Jan's the 'old lady' of this circle; she's seven years older than Bob, but so young in how she acts and thinks. Jim and I wanted children, and all of us love having them around, so Benjamin came along as a joyful addition to our Circle. Now, he has five parents. I told you yesterday; we planned on having another."

"Do Bob and Trish's children know about your arrangement?"

"Oh, yes. Bob and Trish were very open with them about our life style. They didn't blink an eye, and just accepted it as if everyone lived this way."

I briefly thought about the adaptability of youth.

June continued, "Oh, you'll find this interesting: until Jan met Bob four years ago, she was a virgin." Now, that comment made my mind hiccup and realize how candid she was being with me. I hoped Jan wouldn't mind the intimate sharing of her love life – or lack thereof.

June went on, "Jan had been driven by her career so never married or had children, and barely had any boyfriends – certainly none that passed the intimate sex test. She told us she had a difficult childhood and had come to think of herself as unlovable. She made all kinds of decisions on that basis: no openness to love, no boyfriend or husband, and no kids. And then, Bob came along and everything changed. He showed her what love was all about and helped her become a more rounded person. As she let go of the tension she'd held about getting ahead at Alperion, she got promoted to vice-president. She had to let go of that big goal in order to get it. She's really happy now – career, love life, family, kids around."

I asked, "What about Jim and you?"

June almost giggled, "I couldn't be happier. I have ... well, two wonderful husbands and two intimate girlfriends and even more when Kim and Ron are here; all of whom I love with all my heart. I have family; I have Benjamin who is so precious. I have an interesting part time job and work with a great group of people."

"Do the people at your work – or Jan or Jim's work – know about your life style?"

June thought a moment, "Not really ... one or two might have figured it out. For instance, both Jim and Bob have come with me to social events – like a Christmas party or barbeque at work – and each has acted spouse-like. No one said anything; they are great partners at a party event. If someone asked, I'd tell them, but I really don't think anyone cares. Probably they're too wrapped up in their own lives."

I reminded her, "People do like to gossip."

June shrugged. I felt she didn't care if people knew about the Circle. She'd deal with that when and if it became controversial.

"But four of you are married?"

June responded, "Yes, but marriage doesn't mean ownership or the right of possession. I guess many people think it does, but to us that's unhealthy. Commitment shouldn't mean ownership, it means helping your partner or partners grow and evolve, to be more of a whole person in every dimension, to help each other become more loving, compassionate, tolerant, kind, and joyful."

I shook my head; "You blow me away with this stuff." I thought a moment and asked, "But sex changes the whole dynamic of a relationship and commitment."

"Sure, but you have the choice to decide what you want the relationship to be like afterwards; you always have and always will."

"So what about jealousy?" I asked, "Don't you get jealous of each other? I would think Trish would wonder what was going on when she's up in Boston and the four of you are down here in Pennsylvania."

June said, "We're particularly on guard for that green monster. We test for it frequently, and never let even the suggestion of it remain unaddressed around our circle. A couple of times, we tried to expand the circle with others; however, they weren't ready to be so open about this one issue. If some one of us gets possessive, it's not a good thing around here."

June continued, "Jealousy is a learned emotion, and it reflects your spiritual view of the world. If you believe in that life is a zero-sum game and you have to fight for what you get, then you'll probably think that there's a limited supply of love and you've got to be suspicious, untrusting, domineering, and combative to get your share. If I get something, that means you don't get it; or from a jealous point of view, if you are getting love from someone then my opportunity to get the same thing is reduced. However, if you think life is kind and loving, you seek opportunities to give away the love you have knowing that it'll come back to you a hundred fold. Some people call this the Law of Circulation or 'what goes around, comes around,' or karma. So, when we feel ourselves getting green – or we see one of the others getting that way – we call a sort of truce, and get things out on the table, in the open, and talk about it. The rest of us give our love away, so to speak. So far, we haven't had a bad experience although from time to time one of us needs to have a 'talk session' with everyone else to keep things in balance."