Family and Forests: Denver

With the swirling mess of activities that had gone on in my life in the last few months, last week's jaunt into Denver was essentially a mandatory holiday.  It's funny how you can pack your life into so many pieces of baggage and then at the same time with just the right amount of will power you can leave behind all the emotional ones.  That's exactly what I attempted to do though, and reflecting back on the last five days I can say with a fair amount of confidence that I was largely successful.  Life never really takes a holiday, so there were moments where I was faced with the challenges of my everyday existance, but I did my best to ignore them and enjoy the mountains and the company of my family. 

The night before our flight I wandered up to my parents' house to spend the night, since we figured it would be easier to drive down as a single unit then try to coordinate my arrival from the city on public transportation.

  Which worked out for the best, because I got to spend the whole night with Kaleb!  I really miss him.  The great thing about being there that night was how excited and happy he was to see me, which is completely outside of his normal character.  Typically he walks around with an aloof attitude, staring down his snout at me with that, "I tolerate your presence" glare Shiba Inus are so known for.  Not that night though, as he let out a little squeal of delight when I walked in to the house and he began to dance about on his hind legs as if performing some kind of drunken Irish jig.  He spent the rest of the night sitting underneath my legs where ever I was with a big smile on his face, and even managed to find a way to sleep with me on the couch, snuggled tightly against my chest.   Maybe it's a little silly of me, but it felt *good* to actually see him express some type of affection for me, especially since he's never done so before.  Then again, he's never been away from me for this long.  Absence makes the heart grow fonder, even with dogs apparently.

The journey to Denver was very uneventful, as we went through the standard motions of air travel.  The caravan of my brother, sister, and me plopped ourselves down at the curbside pick up for just a few moments before our beloved Uncle Steve came careening down the road and loaded us into his enormous pick-up truck, the entire time showering us with welcoming words and bursts of whatever song he was listening to on the radio.  That's just how Uncle Steve is though, a cyclone of thoughts and hilarity.   We jetted of toward the city, taking a moment to marvel at the absolutely hideous sculpture of a blue stallion with (I kid you not) flaming electric red eyes that welcomes travelers to the Denver International airport.  Apparently when it was being built it tipped over and crushed the artist.  This may have been a sign that it's construction and display was a bad idea, but apparently nothing stands in the way of Colorado showing off its hokey, tacky art prowess.

The first day was spent very casually, with some chit chat and catching up in Steve's gorgeously landscaped backyard.  This area became the center piece of our visit, the gathering spot for everyone in the house to converse, laugh, and bond.  We spent some time smoking (not me), climbing onto the roof to sun bathe, and generally making silly faces for the camera.

We did manage to make it up into the Rockies that afternoon, stopping off at a lake in the middle of a sprawling valley.  I was taken aback by how absolutely beautiful Colorado is.  I've been to a lot of cities and states in the US, but this place is by and far the most gorgeous strip of land I have yet to lay my eyes on.  The mountains spring into the air like defiant outstretched fingers of the Earth, tickling the belly of the sky as dainty puffs of cloud cover trickle through the jet stream.  You can't really do much but take a deep breath and do your best not to cry when you think about how puny human artistic talent is compared to what has been created around us.  The hand of God?  The will of Mother Nature?  It doesn't matter in the end.

For the 4th my Uncle threw a medium sized bash at his house, which was already overcrowded with all the inhabitants for the week.  There was my Uncle, his partner John, their friend Jim (who is living with them while house hunting), and my siblings and I.  Add on top of that all the party attendees and we had a full house, but a comfortably full house.  My Uncle's friends are an ecclectic gathering of folks, with everything from stable gay couples with adopted children to free spirited artists to beauty salon managers.  The potent level of personalities had the potential for disaster, but surprisingly everyone complimented each other fairly well and the party raged on into the night with plenty of merriment all around.   When the time came, we all caravaned to the private school my Uncle teaches at to find a prime location for fireworks watching.  My siblings,a few rowdy party participants, and I ended up in the extended bed of a giant pick-up truck, cruising through the warm Denver summer night under the stars with mountain wind in our hair.  The fireworks display was great, especially because we hopped the fence at the nearby country club and sat on top of a hill where we could see 3 fireworks displays completely unobstructed.  We sat on our blankets shrouded in holiday cheer as we marveled at the brillant bands of red, blue, and white that stained the sky in 360 degrees.

The two days following the fourth were very low key and calm.   We found ourselves walking through the Cherry Creek Art's Festival, which was a fairly large venue that showcased everything from paintings to fashion from around the world.  I'm pretty critical when it comes to art, so I'd say the majority of the work on display wasn't very impressive to me, but I did find a few artists that had genuienly interesting points of view.  I even found myself spending some money on two photographs.  The photographer focused mainly on unique architecture from around Europe, but their was a very small and limited photo series of a journey he took to India, and if you know anything about me you know that I absolutely love anything that deals with the Middle East, India, and Asia.  I bought two photos from that series that I thought were completely unrelated, but while I was making my purchase the photographer said, "It's funny that you chose these two, they were taken in the same location at the same time, though you wouldn't know it from looking. "  He also told me I was the first person who had purchased either of those two pictures.  Score one for having an original eye, eh?  After all the running around in the mountains and the art festival the previous days, we decided to cap off one night with a relaxing spin in the hot tub.

Monday arrived and was fairly bittersweet.  It's always good to be home, but at the same time when you're having so much fun in such a beautiful place, it breaks your heart to know you'll be leaving it all behind.  Before getting to the airport to fly back home, we managed to make one last trip up into the Rockies, this time determined to get as high and as far from civilization as we possibly could.  I won't drone on and on about how absolutely wonderful an experience it was, but it suffices to say that I can't recall a time in my life when I was that awestruck with how peaceful and beautiful life can be.

  

I was greatly blessed to be able to share this experience with my family members, and I think I've grown fundamentally closer to them after this journey.  Closer to my brother and sister as this was our first big "event" as adults.  As time rolls on I think the chances to do these kinds of things will become fewer and fewer, and being able to make memories such as the ones I've brought back with me will serve as the ultimate motivation to seize the opporunities when they do come.  I also feel infinitely closer to my Uncle Steve, who I've never really been able to connect with.  There was always an underlying fear that associating with or being too friendly with him would motivate my father to become angrier over my unspoken sexuality.

  What I realize now is that I fetted away some golden opportunities to learn fantastic life lessons about what it means to be a strong, independant, proud gay man.  He came out and lived his life in a time that was much more difficult then ours, and even though the door is now open for a shared dialogue, those years past will never be a commodity that I can buy back.  

I think it did wonders for my romantic outlook to spend my time with Steve and John, too.  They're going on their 18th year of coupling, and shared with me and my siblings an invitation to their planned wedding in 2 years.  John will turn 50, and it will be their 20th anniversary.  What better way to celebrate a life time together then saying "Fuck the establishment" and getting married?  It was extremely difficult not to break down and cry like a little child when on the last night of our trip John confessed how happy he was that we had come to visit them.  He fought back tears as he explained how much he loved our Uncle and how he honestly thought that our trip to Denver was going to help build a bridge between them and the rest of the family who has for years kept them at arms distance.  How can you not believe in love when it stares you in the face with tears streaming down it's face?  I'll be in Denver in two years for their wedding, and I know my brother and sister will be, too.

It's back to the daily grind today, but my vacation in Denver was life changing, in more then one way.