I don't know why I was driving down River Road... I suppose it was because, up until a couple of years before that, my best friend, Joni, lived in the little town of Rio Nido on the Russian River and that's where I always wound up seeking sanctuary after having an argument with my husband.
After storming out of the house in a distressed state that evening about five years ago and jumping into my old '72 Ford Econoline van, I suppose I'd momentarily forgotten that she didn't live there anymore and didn't realize it until after I'd turned onto River Road -- I don't know...
I do know that it was cold that night -- unbelievably cold for my home of Sonoma County in Northern California -- even for December.
I slowed down once the realization hit me that I didn't have anywhere to go and only a few dollars to get there.
Maybe I would drive out to the coast and camp overnight in my van. There were certainly more uncomfortable vehicles one could have for such a plan and my sleeping bag and pillow were in the back. One thing was certain: I didn't have sufficient funds to buy enough gas to get me to Lake County (about a hundred miles away) to Joni's new place.
That's when my headlights fell upon two figures. As I got closer, I could see they were both men, about my same age, dressed in slightly disheveled work clothes who were standing on the side of the road with their thumbs out, trying to hitch a ride. Judging from the backpack one of them was carrying, they were homeless.
No one's going to give these two a ride, I thought, and it's so cold out there.
I pulled off on the shoulder of road ahead of them. They dashed toward the passenger side door but demurred when they saw me in the driver's seat. I motioned for them to open the door since there was no way I could reach the door handle.
"Come on, get in," I beckoned, "It's cold out there."
Looking nervous, they climbed in.
"I only have one seat for passengers," I told them, "So one of you will have to sit on the floor in the back."
"That's fine," said the more gregarious one of the two, rubbing his hands together, "Gee, it's nice and warm in here."
"Yep, there's nothing wrong with the old Econoline's heater, that's for sure," I replied as I checked for cars in my rear view mirror and pulled out into the flow of traffic, "Where you guys headed?"
"We're trying to get to Monte Rio. By the way, I'm Jack and that's Will," the one in the passenger seat said as he extended his open hand across to me.
"I'm Jean," I said, shaking his hand.
"Well, thanks a lot for stopping for us, Jean," he replied, "We sure do appreciate it."
"It's too cold tonight for anybody to be stuck out there hitching," I said, shaking my head, "But, you know, Monte Rio's 'do-able'. I'll take you all the way there, if you want."
"Wow," Jack gushed, "That would be just great!"
"No problem," I countered, "I really wasn't headed anywhere in particular anyway."
"Just out for a drive, huh?" Jack queried in a friendly tone.
"Something like that," I answered, "Actually, I just had a fight with my husband and I really don't want to go back home for a while..."
"Oh," he responded, looking thoughtful, "That's too bad."
"Aw, no biggie," I reassured him, "We'll get over it -- we always do."
It turned out that Jack and his friend Will were headed to the little river town of Monte Rio to try and collect some wages owed to them by a man who lived there before they returned to the homeless encampment where they'd been living in the somewhat larger river town of Guerneville. They'd been trying to collect from the guy for about two weeks with no luck but thought they'd have a better chance during the evening hours when the man would most likely have returned home from work.
"If you want, I can take you to Monte Rio to the guy's house and then give you a ride back to Guerneville, too -- seeing as how my dance card is pretty empty this evening," I joked.
"Oh, you don't have to go to all that trouble," Jack responded.
"I know but, I hate to think of you guys out here in the freezing cold at night trying to get a ride -- especially since I don't have anything better to do anyway," I replied.
"You are a very kind lady," Jack responded, smiling.
The truth was that having this "mission" to accomplish gave me something to think about besides the unkind words that had passed between my husband and me earlier in the evening and the act of doing something nice for someone (who was even worse off than I was) was making me feel better.
After collecting a few dollars from the man in Monte Rio while I waited in the van, Jack and Will got back in and we set out for Guerneville.
"So where's the camp in Guerneville?" I inquired.
"It's down on the riverbank behind the Safeway," Jack replied, "But we were going to go to the 7-11 store and get some things first. Do you want anything from the store? Some chips or a beer or something? It'd be the least we could offer after you went out of your way and drove us around and everything..."
"You know, a beer sure sounds good," I responded, "I think I'll just take you up on that offer."
"Great!" Jack said as he flashed a broad smile to the very Saturnine Will in the back of the van.
As we waited in the van in the parking lot of the Guerneville 7-11 for Will to finish his shopping, I turned to Jack:
"What's up with Will? I mean, how come he never says anything?"
"Oh, it's because of the War," Jack replied, "Will's a Viet Nam Vet, you know... It really affected him."
"PTSD?" I asked.
"Yeah, he's still pretty messed up," Jack mumbled sadly.
"I know all about PTSD," I reassured him, "My husband is 100% disabled with it from being the door-gunner and crew chief of a Huey in the First Cav, '68-'69."
We grew suddenly silent as Will approached and got back into the van. Then, I started the van back up and drove across the street to the rear parking lot of the Safeway store.
"Hey!" Jack interjected, turning toward me, "You wanna come down to our camp and meet everybody? Maybe hang out for a little while with us?"
Seeming to read the apprehension I was feeling on my face, he added, "You don't have to worry about a thing. Will and I will defend you with our lives if need be. Won't we, Will?"
His expression never changing, the inscrutable Will nodded briefly -- twice.
"I guarantee that nobody's going to bother you down there while we're around. We'll make absolutely certain of it," Jack added.
I got the distinct impression that introducing me around to their friends at the encampment would give them some kind of elevated social status somehow -- and, besides, who was I to refuse their hospitality? The bottom line was that I was curious to see for myself what their homeless camp was like and didn't have anyplace else to go, really...
"Well, with you guys as my escorts, I guess it would be okay," I drawled slowly, "Sure! Why not?"
I parked, grabbed my jacket and locked up the van. Then, the three of us negotiated the narrow trail down the embankment to the river with Jack leading the way and the quiet Will behind. We passed by several small tents before finally arriving at a large, olive-drab, army-surplus, canvas tent that had a huge bonfire burning in front of it.
"Here it is!" Jack quipped, "Home sweet home! Dennis must've got the fire going before he took off for the evening and, boy, am I glad! It's been freezing cold these last few nights."
"I'll say," I agreed -- zipping my leather jacket up to my chin.
"Here," Jack offered, "Get right up here next to the fire and I'll get you something to sit on."
He returned a moment later rolling a tree-round in front of him.
"Here ya go!" he said as he positioned the small stump close to the fire, "You can sit on this and be warm."
Then, Will spoke for the first time during the evening's escapade.
"I'll go scare up some more firewood," he said flatly -- before disappearing into the dark tangle of brush surrounding the camp.
Jack and I passed the time talking about everything, and nothing, while drinking our beers and munching on Doritos from a shared sack. Every few minutes my behind would get so cold that I couldn't stand it anymore and I would start shivering uncontrollably. At those intervals, I'd turn my backside around to the fire to warm it up before turning back around to face the flames and Jack, on the other side of the bonfire, to continue our conversation.
Intermittently over the next few hours, several acquaintances of the men and other homeless campers whose "digs" were nearby came and went from the bonfire. Jack introduced each of them to me and I found them all -- without exception -- pleasant, polite and seemingly genuinely glad to make my acquaintance.
Will returned sometime later with more firewood and tossed much of it into the bonfire (an act for which I'm sure Jack was as grateful as I was).
It was nearly dawn when I decided that I simply couldn't stand the cold anymore and asked Jack and Will to walk me back up to my van in the Safeway parking lot.
"Why don't you both come inside and warm up before I have to go?" I asked them, "I'll let the motor idle with the heater on full blast," and we sat there for 15 or 20 minutes, listening to the radio.
Stretching out on the carpeting in the back of the van, Will spoke for only the second time that night:
"This van wouldn't be too bad to live in," he uttered in a low voice, "You know, for a while..."
The sun was up by the time I arrived back home. By then, I'd cooked up another "mission" for myself, went directly into the bedroom and started rummaging around in the closet.
"What are you doing?" my husband queried with a puzzled look on his face.
So, I told him all about Jack and Will and the homeless encampment...
"I'm going to go through all of my clothes and pull out every jacket, sweatshirt and sweater I own that I don't wear that often," I told him, "And, then, I'm going to drive immediately back to Guerneville and give them all to the people at the camp."
"Wait a minute," my husband replied, "I've got a couple of sweatshirts and jackets I don't wear all that much, either, anymore... I'll go with you."
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