Leaving, And Returning: A Personal Saga

IN 1989, I turned thirty four, and having lost three teaching jobs in three years because f my apparent inability to keep my fat trap shut when administrators did made decisions which to me seemed idiotic, decided to head west, young man, and try something new, start over. A friend and I loaded up his pick up truck with with our meager belongings and his huskie-Shepherd mix, a bong, and a coffee can full of high grade marijuana< had ninety dollars in my pocket, amazingly unprepared. I recall celebrating our early morning departure from western Arkansas by taking a swig of bong water, which revolted my buddy, and perhaps caused him to call into question my suitability for the adventure. Our ultimate destination was Aspen, where we planned to find a place to live, set up shop, get jobs, and live large. We wer in no hurry, and took a month to get there, camping out along the way in western Texas and new mexico. Our early may departure guaranteed us good camping weather. In New Mexico, we hunted rattle snakes. Actually, he did. my job was to carry the gasoline can. I kept asking myself: why? I aspen, we found a trailer in an old KOA campground, and immediately got jobs, which in Aspen in the late eighties was no trick. You could work at Mickey Dees for eight an hour, an enormous wage in those days. I worked at a Day Care center, the first man to have ever done so in Aspen, and I got a gig teaching western civ at Colorado Mountain college, to Real Estate wives. I lost the job at the day care because to many parents were nervous about my gender; not the only time I have face discrimination of one type or another. The barren Rockies around Aspen eventually had me longing for the cool, green, rolling Ozarks, and after a year I was pulled back home. i only went skiing once, never made it above the bunny slope, because I played a mean game of tennis, and joined a millionaires tennis club, poverty stricken though i was. I fit in well there, due to my intellectual and education, and high level tennis game, if not my personal wealth. It seemed fair to me. My fondest memory is of being behind the register at the only grocery store in town, "The Grocery", lat at night, when in walks Goldie Hahn. I giggled like a kid. she busted me, asked if anything was the matter. Busted, I opted for the truth, and told her hwo wonderful I thought she was. Honest to God, she told me i was cute. that mad my year in Aspen worthwhile.