The Ribbon of Road Ahead

Getting hit in the face by a flying object:  a good way to get to know someone.

 A wonderful array of camping type hor d’oeuvres was spread across the picnic table.  Prosciutto, crackers, rye bread, smoked salmon, cheese, fruit and even foie gras! (although I don’t think we got into it) Beer and wine was available.  Special plastic wine glasses with the note “some assembly required” on the package incited conversation on the taste of wine influenced by what it is served in.  The beer drinkers tipped their bottles in agreement…glass is best.

Charlie and I were seated at the appropriate social distance of 6 feet with our new friends Laura and Paul.  The Deschutes River provided a wonderful backdrop for our meeting place; the entire park a luscious green with families of geese floating by on the river.

Laura and I became acquainted as one of us started commenting on the other’s blog.  We both have Parkinson’s disease, memory can be an issue, and neither of us could remember.  We found in each other many commonalities in addition to the blogging.  Travel, camping, music, backpacking…there was a world of things to talk about outside of Parkinson’s.  Laura was intrigued by my unique blogs.  I liked her humor and the accurate information she provided.

The wind picked up a little.   Engaged in conversation we did not notice it was becoming gusty, until WHAM!  Something had smacked me right in the face. Glad it wasn’t a wine glass or a beer  bottle, I pealed  off a corner to see Charlie working to get it off me, too.  Paul was attempting to save the prosciutto from the spilled wine.  Laura joined the action to grab part of the item covering my face.   She realized it was the new tent she had put up earlier to practice for an upcoming backpacking trip. The force of the gust of wind against her tent pulled the stakes right out of the ground.    She needs snow anchors I thought to myself.  The incident alarmed her but she handled it well.

“Well, Laura, that’s the first time I have ever been hit by a tent during cocktail hour.  I will never forget this.”

I took a good look at myself to assure I wasn’t hurt.  For having been hit in my face by a flying tent I was in good condition.

To provide humor and distract from the awkwardness of the event I told the story of hitting Sr Mary Ellen in the face with a boys size 13 basketball shoe.    I am saving the rest of that story for another time!

The Goulds and the Clupnys parted ways the next morning. We left the Deschutes River knowing we have new friends and a wild story about a tent flying into my face.