Wednesday, October 31, 2018
Saturday, October 27, 2018
He Rode Into the Sunset
Jon Long was a man who wished things were different. There was plenty of blame to go around, very little seemed to find its way back to him - that is just the way it was.
I met Jon late in his life, I imagine he was in his late sixties. I wasn't interested in the seasons that had passed and I think that was why we got along. We did share a similar ideology when it came to how the government should be ran, which amounted to - ran out of town. He genuinely took a liking to my kids, like old people trying to get into heaven often do. The kids, having lost their Papa recently, adopted Papa Jon... and that is what he became to friends and acquaintances alike.
Somewhere in these twilight years, Papa Jon decided that he needed to get out of the big city and hatched a plan to escape to an isolated mountain-top. He remembered a cave, found scouting for gold and a stream that ran year around. While this piqued interest in a devil-may-care, romantic sense, I couldn't support this abandonment of civilization entirely. Not at his age. I had property in the Eastern side of the state, not too far removed from the world and there is even a country store eight miles down the hill. Now, I had suffered some loss from pilfering while I was away from the property and he was in need of a place to be away from it all. This was his life-long dream and we came to an agreement right then that he would be there to keep opportunists away and be in a safer environment than his original plan.
We had plenty of disagreements, found our differences of opinion and learned to keep those to ourselves. Compromise and cooperation formed a workable relationship and he became comfortable enough to pursue his individualism and self-imposed feeling of isolation - he was living his dream. I marked off a space and told him - This is Papa Jon's corner, you may do with it as you like until you decide to move on or die. There were many times that I would offer suggestions, but didn't want to intrude into the rugged individualism he was fostering in his mind. Sometimes, you build the dignity you see in others. Sometimes you go buy them a fireplace so they do not freeze to death in the Winter. It is a tough line to walk, but somehow he absorbed the changes just like it was his idea and would even comment on the poor quality of wood I purchased... and never forgot to let me know when the wood pile was running low.
He often spoke of the years he had dreamed of finding a piece of property, scratching out a homestead and having his piece of heaven, but somehow life got in the way. He appreciated having this place, Papa Jon's corner - just like he had done it all along and it was the most natural thing that could have ever occurred. He always wanted to help out, when he could, moving concrete blocks or feeding the animals, getting the mail. I only recently collected my mail for the first time in four years.
Age and infirmity walked side by side during those years until Papa Jon could no longer participate in most of these tasks but watched from the comfort of a chair when he could. Recently, he suffered from kidney stones, one of which required surgery and the placement of an in-dwelling catheter. That was the slide that he got on, the last denial that all things are permanent. He returned home from the hospital, not allowing anyone to drive him there or home, to recover and rest.
A few weeks passed and I would notice his truck being started at three in the morning and then hear it driving off. Usually, after returning from the bus stop, his truck would be sitting outside his cabin, like it had never left. This continued, off and on, for a week and then one evening he didn't come home at all. The next morning I received a call from Papa Jon, he needed a jump for his truck. He said that he was down by Bo's old property, had fallen asleep with the lights on and the battery was dead. I drove the road, looking down each crossroad as I neared the property and then the next few beyond without any sight of Papa Jon or his truck. My son thought we should check on Bo's property, which we did and found Papa Jon down the driveway and hidden from the road. I jump started his truck, cleaned the battery terminals and suggested that he get the battery looked at because of the corrosion.
During the next couple of weeks, I would find Papa Jon parked on the side of the road at various places. I always stopped and he was always fine, just resting. Then, He stopped coming home altogether. While going about the daily routine, I would find Papa Jon parked again on the side of the road. He said that he wasn't able to sleep much, but was doing OK. I thought he should see his doctor, possibly get something to help him sleep. It sounded like a good idea and he promised to think about just that. The next evening, I would find him in a different location and he thought he would go see a doctor the next day. It went along like that for a few days, I suggested he see someone and him thinking that was a good idea. I found him once sleeping and didn't wake him.
One Thursday, as I was getting ready to leave town for the weekend. Having bought a dog feeder and locating my own key to the mailbox, I had tied up all the loose ends between Papa Jon and myself. I was at peace and hoping that he would be too. To my surprise, he drove down the driveway and parked in front of his cabin. He said that he was feeling much better, more rested than he had been and was doing better. I called a neighbor and asked him to check on Papa Jon if he saw him sitting on the side of the road, or if he was driving by to stop in at the cabin.
On Monday morning, I found Papa Jon's truck parked down at the bus stop. No Papa Jon.
Waiting for the bus, I called Bo and asked if he had seen Papa Jon over the weekend, he said that he had not. I informed him that Papa Jon's truck was at the bus stop. He said, "Is that his truck? Yeah, I saw that parked there on Saturday." Then he asked what I intended to do, which was go to the hospital and check to see if he was there. Bo said he would ride down with me to check. The hospital did not have Papa Jon registered as a patient. Driving back home, Bo wondered what to do next. I thought I would check around his truck and the surrounding wilderness to see if he had wandered away from his truck and was under a tree. Still no Papa Jon. Bo then thought I should call the Sheriff and report a missing person. I wasn't so sure of that, the police fill out paperwork - sure, someone enters the information into a computer, but that is the extent of their job. I felt I was better prepared to actually investigate this a little further.
My next stop was to the country store. That rural gossip and information hub for most small towns across the nation. Something that is missing when your corner store is a Circle K and no one knows you. I asked the proprietor if he had recently seen Papa Jon. He had not, however, he had received a call from Papa Jon on Saturday saying that he felt he was in trouble. The store owner called the local fire / paramedics to check on Papa Jon. He had an email from the state adult protective service, that Papa Jon had been taken first to the local hospital and then transferred to a hospital in Phoenix. I was relieved that he was in good hands, figured that he was probably not going to be coming back and was back at peace about the whole matter.
Tuesday morning, Payton asked if she could walk to the library after school instead of riding the bus home, since Sterling would be staying at school late that day. I told her that would be fine and that since I was working on the gas lines at home, I may not be at the library until it was closer to the time I picked up Sterling and Afton. Around mid-afternoon, I received a call from Rich of the local fire / paramedics asking if I had heard from Papa Jon and that the state was looking for him or couldn't locate him. I told him that I would get back to him as soon as I found out anything. I ran into town to get the final parts to finish the gas line and was headed back when a voice told me to stop at the bus stop. Now, Payton is very responsible and would have called if there had been a change in her plans, so I was not expecting anyone to be on the bus that I needed to pick up. Being more inclined to listen to my inner voice, I went to the bus stop and sat waiting for the bus to arrive.
A group of mothers picking up their children were gathered and talking, I paid little attention. But as the bus turned off the main road, I noticed they were pointing toward Papa Jon's truck. Two of the women and a younger man walked back and talked to another neighbor parked behind me. As the bus was pulling up, the group headed to my window. The older lady asked if I knew Jon Long, she was his daughter and informed me that Papa Jon had passed the day before. She also wanted to know where he lived. I let her know that she could follow me as soon as the bus left, I would lead her up to the property, get her a light and that I would be picking up my kids. I left her my number and left them to sort through Papa Jon's effects.
After picking up the kids, we headed to the local pizza place - not quite open yet, but willing to cook us a couple of pizzas. I called Rich and informed him that Papa Jon had passed the day before. He said he would let the state know.
It may not have been like riding off into the sunset, leaving behind a tearful admirer or a handful of proud folks... but it never is.
I met Jon late in his life, I imagine he was in his late sixties. I wasn't interested in the seasons that had passed and I think that was why we got along. We did share a similar ideology when it came to how the government should be ran, which amounted to - ran out of town. He genuinely took a liking to my kids, like old people trying to get into heaven often do. The kids, having lost their Papa recently, adopted Papa Jon... and that is what he became to friends and acquaintances alike.
Somewhere in these twilight years, Papa Jon decided that he needed to get out of the big city and hatched a plan to escape to an isolated mountain-top. He remembered a cave, found scouting for gold and a stream that ran year around. While this piqued interest in a devil-may-care, romantic sense, I couldn't support this abandonment of civilization entirely. Not at his age. I had property in the Eastern side of the state, not too far removed from the world and there is even a country store eight miles down the hill. Now, I had suffered some loss from pilfering while I was away from the property and he was in need of a place to be away from it all. This was his life-long dream and we came to an agreement right then that he would be there to keep opportunists away and be in a safer environment than his original plan.
We had plenty of disagreements, found our differences of opinion and learned to keep those to ourselves. Compromise and cooperation formed a workable relationship and he became comfortable enough to pursue his individualism and self-imposed feeling of isolation - he was living his dream. I marked off a space and told him - This is Papa Jon's corner, you may do with it as you like until you decide to move on or die. There were many times that I would offer suggestions, but didn't want to intrude into the rugged individualism he was fostering in his mind. Sometimes, you build the dignity you see in others. Sometimes you go buy them a fireplace so they do not freeze to death in the Winter. It is a tough line to walk, but somehow he absorbed the changes just like it was his idea and would even comment on the poor quality of wood I purchased... and never forgot to let me know when the wood pile was running low.
He often spoke of the years he had dreamed of finding a piece of property, scratching out a homestead and having his piece of heaven, but somehow life got in the way. He appreciated having this place, Papa Jon's corner - just like he had done it all along and it was the most natural thing that could have ever occurred. He always wanted to help out, when he could, moving concrete blocks or feeding the animals, getting the mail. I only recently collected my mail for the first time in four years.
Age and infirmity walked side by side during those years until Papa Jon could no longer participate in most of these tasks but watched from the comfort of a chair when he could. Recently, he suffered from kidney stones, one of which required surgery and the placement of an in-dwelling catheter. That was the slide that he got on, the last denial that all things are permanent. He returned home from the hospital, not allowing anyone to drive him there or home, to recover and rest.
A few weeks passed and I would notice his truck being started at three in the morning and then hear it driving off. Usually, after returning from the bus stop, his truck would be sitting outside his cabin, like it had never left. This continued, off and on, for a week and then one evening he didn't come home at all. The next morning I received a call from Papa Jon, he needed a jump for his truck. He said that he was down by Bo's old property, had fallen asleep with the lights on and the battery was dead. I drove the road, looking down each crossroad as I neared the property and then the next few beyond without any sight of Papa Jon or his truck. My son thought we should check on Bo's property, which we did and found Papa Jon down the driveway and hidden from the road. I jump started his truck, cleaned the battery terminals and suggested that he get the battery looked at because of the corrosion.
During the next couple of weeks, I would find Papa Jon parked on the side of the road at various places. I always stopped and he was always fine, just resting. Then, He stopped coming home altogether. While going about the daily routine, I would find Papa Jon parked again on the side of the road. He said that he wasn't able to sleep much, but was doing OK. I thought he should see his doctor, possibly get something to help him sleep. It sounded like a good idea and he promised to think about just that. The next evening, I would find him in a different location and he thought he would go see a doctor the next day. It went along like that for a few days, I suggested he see someone and him thinking that was a good idea. I found him once sleeping and didn't wake him.
One Thursday, as I was getting ready to leave town for the weekend. Having bought a dog feeder and locating my own key to the mailbox, I had tied up all the loose ends between Papa Jon and myself. I was at peace and hoping that he would be too. To my surprise, he drove down the driveway and parked in front of his cabin. He said that he was feeling much better, more rested than he had been and was doing better. I called a neighbor and asked him to check on Papa Jon if he saw him sitting on the side of the road, or if he was driving by to stop in at the cabin.
MONDAY
Waiting for the bus, I called Bo and asked if he had seen Papa Jon over the weekend, he said that he had not. I informed him that Papa Jon's truck was at the bus stop. He said, "Is that his truck? Yeah, I saw that parked there on Saturday." Then he asked what I intended to do, which was go to the hospital and check to see if he was there. Bo said he would ride down with me to check. The hospital did not have Papa Jon registered as a patient. Driving back home, Bo wondered what to do next. I thought I would check around his truck and the surrounding wilderness to see if he had wandered away from his truck and was under a tree. Still no Papa Jon. Bo then thought I should call the Sheriff and report a missing person. I wasn't so sure of that, the police fill out paperwork - sure, someone enters the information into a computer, but that is the extent of their job. I felt I was better prepared to actually investigate this a little further.
My next stop was to the country store. That rural gossip and information hub for most small towns across the nation. Something that is missing when your corner store is a Circle K and no one knows you. I asked the proprietor if he had recently seen Papa Jon. He had not, however, he had received a call from Papa Jon on Saturday saying that he felt he was in trouble. The store owner called the local fire / paramedics to check on Papa Jon. He had an email from the state adult protective service, that Papa Jon had been taken first to the local hospital and then transferred to a hospital in Phoenix. I was relieved that he was in good hands, figured that he was probably not going to be coming back and was back at peace about the whole matter.
TUESDAY
A group of mothers picking up their children were gathered and talking, I paid little attention. But as the bus turned off the main road, I noticed they were pointing toward Papa Jon's truck. Two of the women and a younger man walked back and talked to another neighbor parked behind me. As the bus was pulling up, the group headed to my window. The older lady asked if I knew Jon Long, she was his daughter and informed me that Papa Jon had passed the day before. She also wanted to know where he lived. I let her know that she could follow me as soon as the bus left, I would lead her up to the property, get her a light and that I would be picking up my kids. I left her my number and left them to sort through Papa Jon's effects.
After picking up the kids, we headed to the local pizza place - not quite open yet, but willing to cook us a couple of pizzas. I called Rich and informed him that Papa Jon had passed the day before. He said he would let the state know.
PRESENT
It may not have been like riding off into the sunset, leaving behind a tearful admirer or a handful of proud folks... but it never is.
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