Winter, 2010 - Minneapolis to LA

Driving from mpls to Tucson was pretty easy, since I waited for the roads to clear a little after the big xmas snow. I got an early start, and made it all the way to Ottawa KS – about 50 miles west of KC by six – about nine hours, which I did not find particularly tiring. (partly due to my cds and partly due to the car. I have to admit – however grudgingly – that my Sosucky is quite comfortable for long distances). So, I went to bed and got up early and made it to Tucumcari the next day.

The only thing memorable the whole way was in Dalhart, the northernmost city of TX (because it’s in the panhandle.) now, I loathe TX, and I was cursing it all the way along, but I had a nice encounter at a gas station, with a very friendly geezer, who reminded me of Willy nelson. Long pony tail, beard, tooth missing. Tx accent quite appealing. we were comparing notes on the performance of ethanol gas. He observed that it might be good for the farmers, but allot of people thought that “Bush oughta be horse-whipped” for forcing it on us. I told him that I couldn’t argue with that, and not only because of ethanol. So this TX is not so loathsome. After all, the panhandle is also the home of buddy holly.



t-ri is motel city, making the small most that it can from the route 66 mystique. I’m spoiled, so I did not choose any of the 578 vintage motels, and opted instead for a new La

Quinta & some kfc in front of the tv. While it would have been possible to get to Tucson in one more long day, I stopped over in Truth or Consequences for a bath.

I recommend the La Paloma spa. For $60 you geta room in the old, refurbished adobe-court motel and bathing privileges. The housekeeping rooms have open ceilings and old furniture. The bath house has six rooms with water at various temperatures. You sign in to a free one and find a couple of massage-table couches and the bath at the end of the narrow room. It is sunk chin deep into the floor. There are stone steps and two finished-wooden pilings rising to the roof out of the water. Between them hangs a knotted rope, allowing you to hold on and float prone in the hot water.

The water flows constantly through the baths, so they are always clean without the addition
of chemicals. This is accomplished by the original municipal system, which pipes hot spring water to properties with the rights to it. Then it empties into a tributary of the canal leading to the Rio Grande. A most relaxing evening. Massage of various kinds is available, as are lectures in the course of miracles, which is fairly innocuous, if dully sewage in flavor (a re-reading of scripture and church history to conform to the philosophic preening – unfortunately, the ascended masters who channeled the teaching delivered amusingly defective communiqués about church history, which seem somehow to conform mostly to current popular fads a la Dan Brown: Constantine chose the content of the new testament, Jesus was married to Mary Magdalene, priests all had to be celibate after the 11 c, &c. ) the ascended masters need to do more research.

In the room was a discount coupon for the Happy Belly Deli, where I had breakfast the next day. Also commendable. The owner wore a t-shirt saying “Truth or Consequences – we’re all here because we’re not all there.” Which seems to be true enough. When the now-revived spa industry fell off after WWII they sold naming rights to the radio quiz show. Then later, as I hear, they kept the economy alive by accepting lots of people who could no longer be institutionalized against their will, just because they were weird, but were no danger to themselves or others. Lots of trailer parks. And a feel much like an Altman movie.

Just stayed around Nancy’s in Tucson, and then to Palm Springs for two lovely days with David Burgdorf – old church friend, fellow priest. One of the few I could watch Into the Great Silence with, as we did.
An easy drive west on I-10 to Ontario for the flight to Seattle. This was a great experience, as flying goes. The airport is small – just two short concourses – and not far to walk to the gates. Parked Sosucky in a remote lot for cheap and flew Alaska airlines, which was very pleasant. It is almost as far as from MSP NYC, but it felt like less.
The weekend itself was a wonderful relaxation with good, old friends from the Yale Russian Chorus. We have lots of common agreements – musically, politically, morally – and it was really a pleasure. This is one of the joys of old age: people to share the memories and rejoice. My hosts had a dinner party with Chorus alums in town. One is a retired foreign aid worker (and probably spook – he also writes thrillers), who spent allot of time working in Siberia out of Alaska. I floated my idea of the Chicago, Minneapolis, and Irkutsk High Speed Railroad. He said Russians were always proposing that. Must be a good idea.

Dinner was a magnificent curry, which the lady of the house had learned in Africa. Three curries, actually – prawn, chicken, and beef – attended by literally dozens of what British colonials would have called “boys” (one server carried each one). These are chutneys, various pepper sauces, nuts and sliced fruits and vegetables, the most important of which are peanuts and bananas and coconut.

We watched the light change the color of The Mountain (which, as the residents say, was Out) for us. (This means that Mt. Takhoma, aka Ranier, was not obscured by clouds.) Its perfect Fuji-cone fills the view across Lake Washington from my friends’ terrace.


Margo is a retired journalism professor and Andy is an unretired psychology professor at U of W, who spends most of his time travelling the world for the Gates Foundation checking on projects they have funded and looking for more, he just got back from Bangladesh and a project he is especially enthusiastic about. By now he will be in Lithuania.
With us at dinner was Jamie Pedersen, a brilliant lawyer and promising politician. He one his State Senate race easily ( he is very charming and attractive), pretty much for the purpose of advancing gay rights. He and Eric were married in their Lutheran church, and they have fathered three children through a surrogate: one two-year old , Trygve; and triplets Anders, Eric, and Leif – now six months old. Their fathers both continue to work – Jamie adding responsibilities in the Legislature. Talk about role-models! I would say those are four lucky kids.
On returning to Ontario, I made my way to Lever Rukhin’s loft in South LA. Lever is the son of a Russian painter, whom I met when Lever was the triplets’ age in Leningrad, in the course of a Chorus tour. I met the son by accident nine years ago in Rome. (See below, account of two years ago).

Lever lives off 55th and Alameda, which is the section that has recently changed its name from “South Central” to “South LA”. It is definitely Easy Rawlins territory, but not at all scary. Crime is at a fifty-year low, and Lever and his friends have never had any trouble at all.
Lever is keeping my car while I’m in the East. He has plenty of room, because he lives in a very secure, razor-wire-fenced compound of six storage-unit-studios, most of which are also residences, informally. Very nice set-up. L. barbecued some fabulous steaks and chicken for me and his neighbors. Then he had to go out of town to help his mother in San Francisco. I will see more of him when I return.
As an international airport, LAX sucks. There were no restaurants or any other facilities except toilets beyond the security checkpoint. Singapore was operating out of a remote terminal, which meant a bus-ride to the remote boarding buildings. Maybe that’s why. Primitive. Surprising for such a huge, glitzy city.
Speaking of which, I had the pleasure of dining with two other old friends, Joseph Oppolds and David Norgard. AS far as I know, David was the first completely out and openly gay man to go through the ordination screening process in the Episcopal Church. (Late ‘70s). I presented him for ordination at the Church of the Holy Apostles in Manhattan. Ordained with him was (N) Glasspool, who is now Suffragan Bishop of New York.

After reviving Episcopal Community Services in MN, David moved to CA, more convenient to Joseph’s work as a travel company executive. David now has a consulting business and Joseph is very near the top of a company that serves celebrities. If Brad or Angelina or Sean or the Jonas boys need to go somewhere, they call Joseph’s outfit. He doesn’t deal with them, though, because he’s in management. So, no swanky parties in Beverley Hills, but they did get to go to the Grammies in J.’s new Jaguar. Lovely apartment just off Santa Monica in West Hollywood.
Chasing the sun west over the Aleutians. The lights just came on, so the ten-hour flight must be winding down. Singapore Airline really takes care of you. Two meals and a snack in between. Big fun awaits at Narita, where I have to find the train to Tokyo, and then a public phone to call my friend, Paul McCarthy, who sadly has to leave for MN tomorrow to say goodbye to his dying brother. Anyway, he will get to stay in my apartment. I will move into his and see if I can stand his cat, Dinah. He has arranged a whole committee of English-speaking Japanese to show me around.

There is this one advantage to being fat: in airports, they are happy to push you around in wheelchairs. Even the aristocrats of First Class don’t get that!