As I was packing to leave San Diego and return to Base Camp Linda handed me a box. I got back and opened it and it's my brother, his urn and him. I've been sitting here trying to figure out what to do with it. I can't set it on the shelf where I have my pee bottle to put on Jane Fonda's grave should I depart before her. That would be disrespectufl. I don't even know what to ask my own what to do with me when I'm gone.
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I suppose I could be buried out here. San Juan County is pretty cooperative about most things and then there would at least be a spot. Or I could have my butt bronzed four or five times and have a bicycle rack put out front and I could be the resting place for front tires and still be contributing even after I'm gone. Dustdevils are said to be those that have passed or perished out here, their spirits, still exploring the land. I could have them scatter my ashes in the next one that comes along and that way I would be out exploring forever. See those places out here that I never had time to visit. Meet the woman that jumped into the river years ago who's tracks I found leading to the cliffs above the river and never returned. Who haunted me in my dreams for so long and finally one night revealed herself. Maybe my brother would like to go along. We rode our bikes 25 miles out and back to the Great Salt Lake when we were nine and six years old.
Even the lizards are trying to get a breeze by hanging on the screen to the front door and getting a little breeze coming through the lodge back door and out front.
Guests are getting in the river to cool off and some kayaked extensively yesterday but still no beach but the river is still two feet deeper than it was on this day last year.
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